just-an-anon-reader

[just-an-anon-reader]

All I have to say...

The Crimson Pact | Part 11

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Explicit Smut / NSFW. Minors DNI (Do Not Interact), Fingering, Touching, Penetrative Sex (P in V), Breeding Kink / Creampie, Size Kink, Mild degradation / Dirty Talk, Bondage, Dominance, Mirror Sex, Overstimulation, Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance.

A/N: Here's chapter 11! I know a lot of you have been waiting for this one. This chapter is quite long, as there are a lot of plot points starting to roll and unveil. EXPLICIT SMUT people! You've been warned. Smut is at the end, though. Also catch the guest appearance for shits and giggles.

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The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

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Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery), Seungho (Baby)

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Part 11:

Unveiled

The house was silent—too silent. Not the kind of peaceful quiet that made a place feel safe, but the kind that made every sound feel sharp. Fragile. Like it might shatter the moment you dared to breathe too loudly.

Rumi crept along the edges of the hallway, her body low, steps light, heart hammering in her chest like it was trying to claw out. Her boots barely brushed the old wooden floorboards, each movement calculated, silent. The moonlight from the window behind her painted silver streaks along the walls—but they felt more like spotlights. Vulnerable. Exposing.

Celine isn’t home. She shouldn’t be here. But Rumi didn’t trust that. Not anymore.

She moved with the quiet grace of a trained hunter, each shadow a friend, every sound a threat. Her fingers were already curling instinctively, ready to summon her sword if needed—but tonight, stealth was her only weapon.

She slipped past the narrow hallway and ducked into the far guest room, breath held. The door clicked shut behind her.

The scent hit her first.

Wintergreen. Faint sandalwood. The dry scent of old wood and the barest echo of incense long extinguished. The smell wrapped around her like a memory, curling at the edges of her lungs. Her father’s scent. Her mother’s.

Her childhood.

For a second, it made her stomach twist. The room hadn’t changed. Not even a little. Dust still lined the corners of the shelves. The faded tapestry still hung uneven on the wall. It was like time had stopped the moment her parents left it behind.

How many times had Celine scolded her for entering this room as a child? It was almost forbidden, being here. But she let the familiar smells of nostalgia engulf her tonight. Too many times she’d been caught sneaking in here. That wouldn’t be the case this time. 

She crouched down beside the bed, reaching beneath it with trembling hands. Her fingers skimmed over the wooden floorboards until they hit cloth. She tugged gently—and there it was.

The chest.

Small, cedar-lined, wrapped in a woven fabric so old the edges had begun to fray. It looked ordinary. Harmless. But her heart kicked against her ribs. Please be here. Please let this be real. 

With shaking fingers, she pulled the brass key from the small leather pouch at her side. She'd stolen it from Celine years ago, on a night she couldn’t even fully remember. The urge had been instinctual. Desperate. Now, it glinted in the moonlight like a secret waiting to be told.

Her hand trembled as she brought the key to the lock. The metal clicked into place with a soft, final sound.

Then— Click.

Her entire body froze. A second later, the latch shifted. The lock turned. The chest creaked open. Dust stirred in the air like breath. She hesitated, hands hovering over the contents, not yet ready to look—afraid of what she might not find.

Please be here.

Her initial discovery of the letter had been an accident. It had been years ago when she was just a little girl as high as the table, and the chest had not been locked yet. She didn’t have the knowledge required to grasp the weight of what it meant. Only that she remembered vague words being mentioned in it. This time, she thought. I’ll get a better look. 

Then slowly, she reached in. A worn red ribbon. A wooden carving of a bird, the beak chipped, clearly made by hand. A smooth stone shaped like a heart—her mother’s.

And then— Her breath hitched. An envelope, yellowed with time. Her name was scrawled on the front in slanted script she hadn’t seen in over a decade.

To Rumi, if you ever find this.

Her fingers touched it like it might dissolve. She held it carefully like it might break. A single inhale, and she lifted it to her face. The faintest trace of something warm. A memory. Sandalwood and cedar.

Her throat tightened. Her fingers ached. Her vision blurred. But she mustered all her courage to do what she came here for. 

She opened the envelope. 

‘My little star,

If you're reading this… then maybe the ritual didn’t work. Maybe I failed you. Or maybe fate intervened, and you’re standing in a future I never got to see.

If that’s true… I hope you're safe. I hope your mother kept you warm, and fierce, and loved. And I hope you forgive me for everything I didn’t get to explain.

I loved her, Rumi. So deeply it became my reason for existing. Your mother—your brilliant, brave mother—refused to bow to destiny. And I... I only ever wanted a life where I could hold both of you. Not as a demon. Not as a memory. But as a man. A father. A partner.

But the Honmoon was never built for souls like mine.

So I searched. Studied. Risked everything to find another way. Something older than the contracts. Something not fueled by blood, or voices, but by love.

The soulbond. A link forged by choice. By devotion. By heart.

I believed in it. In you. And in a path that could hold all three of us together—across lifetimes, realms, and rules. But there’s more we have to do to forge that path. 

There’s another path, Rumi. Not one the gods built, or hunters—but one the heart can open. It’s not easy. It asks for more than sacrifice. It asks for belief.

If I couldn’t make it work… maybe you will.

You were always the best part of us. The light at the center of it all.

And no matter where I am when you read this—I love you.

— Your father,

Daehyun’

The letter slipped from her hands like a flame extinguished in water. Rumi sat frozen, staring at it—chest caved, trembling—like it had physically struck her. Her throat closed up, and her heart thudded against her ribs like a wild creature trying to escape. A cry built up in her lungs, but she bit down on it hard, biting her lip until she tasted blood.

She couldn’t break here. Not now. Not in this house. Not where Celine might hear.

So she folded over herself, curled tight around the letter as if it might shield her. Her father’s words still echoed in her head, looping, unraveling her from the inside.

“There’s another path. Not one the gods built, or hunters—but one the heart can open.”

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. They struck her arms, the floor, the chest. She hadn’t even realized she was crying until the drops began to pool on the old, creased paper.

Her father. Daehyun.

He’d loved her. Not just her mother—her. And he hadn’t left them. He hadn’t been the monster Celine made him out to be. He had tried. He had fought for a future they could all share. He had loved so hard it bled across time.

And Celine… Celine had kept this from her. How could she? What right did she have?

She’d pretended to protect her. Fed her lies her whole life. Told her demons didn’t love, didn’t feel, didn’t care. That her father was an accident. A weakness. A shame.

But that letter… it had shattered all of that.

He hadn’t been a weakness. He’d been a flame. A man who tried to make the impossible possible, who dreamed of staying by the woman he loved. Who risked everything for it. And Celine had buried it. Hidden this truth like a sin. She’d let Rumi believe she was a mistake—an accident of war and poor judgment.

But now… Now she knew better. Rumi’s fingers clenched the letter. Her nails dug into her palm as grief turned slowly, painfully, into fury.

You were her friend, she thought bitterly. My mother’s best friend. How could you erase her like this? How could you erase him?

Her breath shook. She closed her eyes. They loved each other.

It wasn’t some coercion or mistake. It wasn’t some demon seducing a poor human woman. Her mother had chosen him. And Daehyun… Daehyun had adored her so much, he tried to create something new. Not the Honmoon. Not just the soulbinding. Something else entirely.

Her gaze snapped to the chest again—and caught sight of something half-buried beneath the velvet cloth. A book.

Her heart jumped.

Hands trembling, she pulled it free. The leather cover was scuffed, old. A broken clasp hung loosely, and an unfamiliar rune marked the front—one she’d never been able to read before. But now, something inside her stirred. Her marks—those faint lines on her back and arms—throbbed lightly, and the rune shimmered. She reached out, breath caught. The moment her fingers brushed the cover, the mark pulsed—slow and alive.

She opened the journal.

The scent of ink and ash drifted up. The handwriting inside was sharp, hurried, looping in the old tongue. Most of it still looked like gibberish, like waves of symbols crashing across the pages—but then…

A glow. Soft. Subtle. And certain phrases began to emerge like stars in fog:

“The tether… not just a seal, but a gate. A guardian. A chance for love to rewrite the laws.”

Her breath hitched. A tether?

She flipped further. More faded entries. One caught her eye—desperate and raw, ink smeared as if written in a rush:

“The ritual failed. She wasn’t strong enough. Or maybe I asked too much. There must have been something I failed to see. A reason why it didn’t work.”

Another page. A jagged diagram scrawled across it—symbols for soul, sacrifice, choice. Her pulse quickened as she studied it.

In the margins, scrawled in deep ink: “Three voices. One heart. A bond strong enough to breach fate.”

Her hands shook and her mind wandered to an obvious connection. The soulbond. The boys. You.

Everything she was reading—it all pointed toward something more. A way. Not one forced by the Honmoon or the heavens… but something anchored in love. In soul-deep connection. Just like what you had.

He wasn’t trying to bind my mother, she realized. He wasn’t trying to turn her into something less.

He was trying to make her more. A protector born of love.

And it hadn’t worked. But maybe… Maybe now it could. Maybe it was never meant to work alone. Maybe it needed more than one soul. Three voices. One heart. 

Rumi stared at the glowing ink, her own breath sounding foreign to her. The soulbond. You and them… Jinu.

This… this could be the answer. The key. A way to break the cycle without losing each other. A path that didn’t demand a sacrifice. One that used the soulbond as a bridge—not a weapon.

She shut the journal slowly and slid it into her satchel along with the letter. The chest she closed gently, wiping her fingerprints from the lock. With a glance over her shoulder, she slipped out of the room like a shadow reborn.

Down the hallway. Past Celine’s door. Every creak of the floorboard felt like it could end her—but she moved with the precision of a born hunter. A whisper of a girl who had once believed she came from nothing.

She reached the window and scaled the trellis vines again—silent, aching. Her palms stung, her body trembled, but she didn’t stop until she was back in the Huntrix tower, back in her room.

Only then did she collapse to the floor, the journal pressed to her chest. The tears came again, free now. Raw. But this time they weren’t just grief. They were hope.

She had something.

Her father had built something from love. A ritual too fragile to succeed alone. But what if it didn’t have to be done alone? What if it wasn’t just her parents’ story?

What if… it could be yours too?

Her fingers ran along the glowing lines of the journal. Her eyes turned to the window, moonlight washing her in silver.

“I have to see Jinu,” she whispered.

Not just to show him. Not just to beg. But to understand. To ask if he could read the rest. If he could help her figure out what her father left behind. If there was still something to save.

A future not ruled by death. A bond that didn’t end in loss. And maybe, just maybe… To finish what Daehyun started. Not just for herself. But for you.

For all of you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You woke to aching thighs, faint bruises kissed across your skin like phantom fingerprints — reminders of everything they’d done to you the night before.

You didn’t mind.

The soreness made you feel claimed. Loved in the strangest, most overwhelming way. As if your body had finally learned its language — and it was them. Their touches had been relentless… but careful. Their mouths everywhere. Their voices tangled in your ears like silk and fire and want.

And this morning? They were sweetness incarnate. Jinu had drawn the blackout curtains just a little to let in the morning light, sitting at the foot of your bed as you stirred. He brushed your hair back gently, whispering a soft “You need water, sweetheart,” before helping you sit up against the pillows and pressing a glass to your lips.

Hwimori brought a tray of food and made sure your favorite snacks were stacked beside it — the ones he’d quietly memorized weeks ago. He let you lean against him afterward, his headphones lazily looped around his neck after working on the track early in the morning. Your fingers tracing idle circles on his forearm while he purred faintly at your touch.

Seoha had insisted on rubbing balm into your shoulders, murmuring against your ear, “Can’t let our darling get stiff, now can we?” His hands had been too skilled, too focused. You swore he was doing it for his own sanity more than yours, like your pain was his.

And Haneul — gods, Haneul — had sat you on his lap in the kitchen, feeding you bites of soft bread and humming into your temple every time you winced. You could still feel his arms around you, big and solid, grounding you in that way only he could. Every touch of his had been protective and hungry at once. He looked at you like he still hadn’t gotten enough.

They’d made you feel… precious. Not fragile. Not pitied. Claimed.

And it didn’t scare you. If anything, it felt right. Like some part of you — deeper than memory, deeper than thought — had always known you belonged to them. Like you were a key slipping into a lock that had waited lifetimes.

You didn't understand everything. You couldn’t. Their demon forms, the way the soulbond shimmered in your veins, the way time bent in their presence — it was still a mystery. But you told yourself it would come with time. And in the meantime… you were falling. Maybe not all at once. Maybe not with reckless abandon. But with every night they curled around you… with every whispered confession, every shiver-inducing kiss, every moment they made you feel seen.

You were falling in love with each of them. Each in a different way. But falling all the same. And yet—

Your thoughts drifted to Seungho. He’d been… quiet. Watching. Waiting. He hadn’t touched you — not yet. Not like the others had. But you could feel him. The way his eyes trailed after you when you weren’t looking. The way he never left your side for long. The way he lingered in the shadows of the apartment, as if biding his time. You knew it was only a matter of when.

A shiver slipped down your spine. He was patient. Too patient. And something told you… when Seungho finally decided to move, there would be no going back.

The afternoon light filtered softly through the apartment windows, brushing golden over the couch where you sat curled up with Derpy the tiger, his massive blue-furred head resting in your lap. You absently scratched between his ears, staring out toward the cityscape beyond the glass. The three-eyed magpie perched silently on the windowsill, its tiny hat slightly tilted, blinking every so often with eerie intelligence.

You sighed quietly, just basking in the quiet and stillness of the morning. The boys had gone off to do work for the upcoming Idol Awards. You couldn’t complain at how busy they must be. Afterall, everything they were doing they claimed to be for you. For a comfortable life by their sides. And yet, it was in moments like these where you slightly missed having that job. Despite it not being the best… it had still kept you busy. 

Jinu watched you from the hallway.

His arms were crossed, expression unreadable at first, but his eyes softened the longer he looked. You hadn’t stepped out in days—not since the soulbond had deepened. The boys kept you close, and you didn’t fight it… but still, he could sense it. That quiet restlessness. The tilt of your head toward the window. The faint pinch in your brows like you were missing something simple: air. space. normalcy.

You looked… like a bird waiting for the wind.

He stepped forward gently, his voice warm and low. “You want to go out, don’t you?”

You blinked out of your daze, turning to see him. “What?”

“The way you’re staring out there like the world owes you a stroll.” He smiled faintly. “You’ve been cooped up, little dove.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I mean… maybe a little.”

Derpy huffed against your thigh. Jinu came closer, crouching beside you. He glanced out the window with you, shoulder brushing yours. “We need to pick up some things for Hwimori’s birthday,” he murmured. “Cupcake ingredients. Decorations. Whatever weird cereal he likes.”

You turned to him slowly, hope blooming like a sunrise. “Wait… are you saying…?”

His gaze flicked to you, amused. “Come with me,” he said. “We can sneak out before the others notice. You need some air.”

You bounced slightly in your seat. “Seriously?! You’re free?”

Truthfully, there was a lot going on in his mind. Their plans for the Idol Awards, the threat of Huntrix, Gwi Ma’s demands, Rumi’s desperate plea to have him let them win on that night. He had been carrying all this and the weight of keeping all these things from you. 

To protect you. He justified.

But looking at you now — like a caged bird, made his heart want to focus today on his number one priority. And that would always be you. He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll always make time for you.”

The words made your stomach flutter. You grinned, eyes sparkling. “Okay! Okay give me ten minutes! I’m gonna dress up so cute—”

“You already look cute,” he called after you as you scampered to your room.

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Jinu pushed the cart with one hand, the other tucked casually in his pocket. He wore a black bucket hat pulled low, a light jacket over a hoodie, and round tinted glasses that hid most of his face. Still, he was striking. Even in disguise, people glanced twice. It was something about how he moved—controlled, elegant, like someone used to being watched. You walked beside him, chattering about cake flavors and what Hwimori might secretly want.

“He always says he doesn’t want anything, but I know for a fact he likes strawberry whipped cream cake,” you said, grabbing a container of fresh strawberries with a grin.

Jinu glanced at them, amused. “The kind with sponge so soft it deflates if you blink too hard?”

You giggled. “Exactly. I want to make it from scratch this time.”

His brow quirked. “You want to make it?”

You gave him a look. “Yes, me. I can bake, you know. Sweets are kind of my thing.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “It’s just… usually we do the cooking. Haneul gets territorial about the stove.”

You rolled your eyes. “I worked at a café, remember? And I lived alone for years! You think I can’t handle some sugar and eggs? I want to do this for Hwi.”

Jinu turned his head toward you, curiosity giving way to something softer.

“I just…” you continued, a little quieter now, “…I want to give something. You guys take care of everything — meals, laundry, protection, my mental health apparently — and I love it, but... I want to do something for you too. Something that shows I belong here. That I’m not just being taken care of.”

There was a pause. Jinu looked at you — really looked — like you were something fragile. He reached into the shelf and gently set down a box of matcha powder. “Cupcakes too, then?”

You blinked. “Wait… you like matcha?”

“I don’t,” he said. “But you do.”

Your heart lurched. You stared up at him, cheeks warm. “You’re such a sap when no one’s looking.”

He smirked, brushing a knuckle under your chin. “Only for you.”

You laughed under your breath and tossed in a pack of cupcake liners. “Well, get ready. You’re about to witness greatness in the kitchen.”

“Oh?” Jinu leaned close, a teasing note in his voice. “Should I be nervous?”

You grinned. “Maybe. But I expect full praise when I deliver.”

“I’ll write you a ballad,” he deadpanned, reaching for a tub of frosting. “But if you burn anything, I’m snitching to Haneul.”

You gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You shoved him gently with your hip. He nudged you right back, laughing quietly. The banter was easy, warm — like you’d done this a thousand times before. Like grocery shopping together was the most natural thing in the world. You paused in front of a display of fresh fruit. Jinu came up beside you, watching as you picked up a container of strawberries again.

He took it from you gently, brushing your fingers. “Hwimori’s going to love this,” he murmured. “But I’m getting them for you too.”

Your breath caught. He held your gaze, voice dropping lower. “Because I like seeing you like this. Out here. Talking about frosting and birthdays. Smiling at strawberries.”

You swallowed, your throat tight with something warm and tender. “Jinu…”

He reached over and brushed the hair from your eyes. “You deserve days like this. Not just ones where you're surviving us.”

Your lips trembled into a soft smile. “So do you.”

Shoppers kept their distance. Maybe instinctively. Maybe because some part of them sensed that the two of you didn’t quite belong to this world. You and Jinu. Soulbonded. Cloaked in secrets and sugar.

You were halfway down the baking aisle when you gasped softly. “Oh no, I forgot the condensed milk!”

Jinu raised an eyebrow from beside the cart. “I’ll get it.”

“No, no—it’s all the way near the dairy section. You stay here and guard the cart,” you said quickly, already stepping back with a grin. “I know what brand I want. You’ll just bring back the weird vegan one.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You're really going to abandon me to fight this frosting wall alone?”

You pointed dramatically. “May the piping tips guide you.”

He exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Hurry back. Five minutes. I’m timing you.”

“Got it!” you called, already weaving through the shelves.

You pulled out your phone absently while walking, intending to check the recipe again—when you saw the notification on Instagram. Your heart skipped. It was a message from Zoey.

‘Hey, I get if you didn’t want to hang out. :( But really, I just want to make sure you’re okay and safe.’

Your thumb hovered over the message. Her name made your stomach twist, but not in the way it once did. You didn’t feel fear — not exactly. Concern, maybe.

Then another surprise: two new followers. Rumi and Mira. Your brows lifted. They knew about you?

They’d talked. Of course they had. You stared at their names on your screen. Rumi. Refined, composed. Mira. Fiery, cold. They knew.

You swallowed hard. Zoey's message sat like a weight on your chest. She didn’t sound malicious. Not like someone trying to drag you away out of spite. Maybe… she was just scared. Scared of what she thought the boys were. Scared for you. 

You knew better now. Your boys weren’t monsters. They were demons, yes — but not the kind that hurt people. Not anymore. But the hunters didn’t see it that way. Maybe Zoey was just doing what she thought was right. What she’d been trained to do. Would it really be so wrong to just… tell her you’re okay?

You bit your lip, hesitating in the aisle. So lost in thought that you didn’t see the edge of the stocked floor display in your path until—crack.

“Ah—!”

You stumbled forward, your shin colliding hard with the metal frame. The corner of the cart display jabbed straight into the bone. Pain flaring up your leg. You winced and grabbed at the shelf for balance, phone slipping back into your hoodie pocket.

“Ow…”

“Excuse me.”

You looked up, blinking in surprise. A tall man stood just feet away, his dark hair fell over his forehead, black leather jacket zipped halfway, hands in his pockets. He wore sneakers way too clean to be real and a smug expression that instantly made you wary.

“Are you… alright?” he asked, dragging the last word like he found it funny.

You straightened, still wincing. “Yeah. Just a bruise—"

He stepped closer. You shifted slightly. Uncomfortable. “What’s your name? You look very… open-minded.” he said, eyes trailing down your frame in a way that made your skin crawl. 

You blinked. “Um—what?”

“You look very… open-minded.” He grinned wider, repeating it like it was supposed to be a pickup line.

You frowned, backing a step. He took one forward. “Why don’t you put your number in my iPhone 16 Pro M—”

A hand shot out and grabbed his wrist mid-gesture. Hard. The stranger flinched. You both turned. Jinu stood between you and him now. Calm. Controlled. But his eyes— His eyes were burning.

“I must’ve misheard,” Jinu said coolly, tightening his grip. “Because it sounded like you were trying to touch something that belongs to me.”

The man swallowed, chuckling nervously. “W-whoa, hostile man. I didn’t know she was—”

“She’s not yours to know,” Jinu interrupted, voice like a silk-covered blade. “You don’t get to speak to her. You don’t get to look at her.”

The man tugged at his wrist, but Jinu’s hand didn’t budge. “You think I won’t break your hand in the middle of aisle nine?” Jinu’s voice dropped to a whisper, deadly and low. “Keep pushing, and I’ll gift-wrap your spine for customer service.”

That did it. The man yanked his hand back and backed off quickly. “Okay, okay. My bad. Jesus.”

He practically speed-walked away, glancing back once. You blinked, still processing. Jinu turned to you in a flash, eyes scanning your face. “Are you okay?” he asked, hands already cupping your cheeks. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”

“N-no,” you said quickly, reassuring. “I just—tripped into a display.”

His hands roamed gently down your arms, then to your waist. “Show me.”

“Jinu—”

“Let me see.”

You lifted your pant leg slightly to reveal the growing bruise on your shin. His face darkened. He crouched, took your leg carefully in his hands, and leaned in. He pressed a warm kiss to the bruised skin. Slow. Tender. Protective.

“I leave you for four minutes,” he muttered against your skin, “and the creeps start circling like moths to a flame.”

You gave a nervous little laugh. “Guess I’m just very open-minded.”

He scowled. “Don’t joke.”

You reached down and brushed your fingers through his hair. “You scared him off. That’s more than enough for me.”

He rose, still scowling, but the tension in his shoulders eased.

“No more solo missions,” he said, guiding you back toward the cart. “You stick with me. Always.”

“Got it, boss.”

He paused, then looked over at you sideways. “You’re lucky I’m letting you walk again after last night,” he murmured, eyes gleaming with possessiveness.

You flushed. “Jinu—!”

He smirked, pushing the cart again. “Come on. Let’s get your condensed milk before someone else tries to steal you.”

You followed beside him, heart pounding — not from fear. From something far more dangerous. You were starting to realize there might not be a single moment in this life you’d feel truly alone again.

And maybe… just maybe… you didn’t want to be.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store hummed above them as they moved like shadows, careful not to draw attention. Rumi lingered near a magazine rack, flipping through a tabloid she wasn’t really reading. Mira leaned against the edge of a snack display, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Zoey peeked around the bread aisle, heart thudding. Then—

“There,” Rumi said softly. They all stilled. You were walking beside a man. Black bucket hat, glasses, hoodie. Nothing out of place at first glance… except everything about him was. The way he moved. Controlled. Regal. A little too graceful for someone just buying frosting.

Jinu.

Zoey’s heart sank. “It’s him.”

You said something that made him laugh — not a smirk, not a sneer. An actual laugh. You bounced a little on your feet, gesturing toward a box of something in your hand, and he leaned closer, brushing your shoulder with his.

Mira clicked her tongue. “Message her. Now.”

Zoey hesitated. “She’s smiling. She looks… okay.”

“She thinks she’s okay,” Mira snapped. Rumi didn’t speak, only watched. The weight of her stare was heavier than either of theirs. Analytical. Distant. Her mind wasn’t fully in the present. Seeing you and Jinu brought back her thoughts on her recent discovery. She needed to talk to him, and even possibly, to you.

Zoey opened Instagram, fingers trembling, and typed:

Hey, I get if you didn’t want to hang out. :( But really, I just want to make sure you’re okay and safe.

She hit send. The other two girls, without a word, followed your account. Mira raised her phone. “She’s checking it.”

Sure enough, they watched you pause in the aisle, thumb tapping on your screen. You stared down at it for a few moments too long. Then bam — your shin slammed into a floor display. You stumbled back.

All three girls winced. “Ow,” Mira muttered. “That’s gotta hurt.”

“Sorry, Y/N…” Zoey murmured, watching you rub your leg. “Didn’t mean to distract you.”

Rumi’s expression didn’t change. But her eyes followed your every movement like a hawk. A stranger approached. Tall, smug, and immediately suspect. His posture, his aura — it made Mira’s skin crawl.

The moment he leaned in, all three tensed. Zoey was already moving. “I’m going in.”

“No, wait—” Mira grabbed her arm. Her voice was sharp. “He’s coming.”

The three of them froze as Jinu turned the corner, soundless and lethal, gliding behind the man. His hand snapped forward, grabbing the guy’s wrist mid-gesture.

“Here we go,” Mira muttered, already reaching into her coat. She pulled out her weapon, holding it behind her leg as her eyes narrowed in anticipation. Zoey’s hand hovered to summon her blades. Rumi just looked at them with a dash of worry in her eyes.

But… Jinu didn’t strike. He didn’t snap the man’s arm. Didn’t vaporize him. He didn’t even use power. He spoke. 

The guy’s face drained of blood. He stumbled back like a scolded child. The girls watched in stunned silence as Jinu turned to you instead—kneeling, cradling your leg like something precious, brushing your skin and kissing the bruise like the world had no one else in it but you.

Even Mira faltered. “...He kissed it,” she said blankly.

“Yeah,” Zoey whispered. “He did.”

The three of them stood, stunned, hidden behind a stack of sale items as you walked back to the cart together. Jinu placed a hand protectively on your lower back. You smiled at him like he was your favorite secret.

Mira exhaled. “It’s an act.” But the words lacked conviction.

Zoey frowned. “Then why did he let that guy live?”

“Maybe she asked him not to.”

“She didn’t say anything.”

They walked toward the exit slowly, still watching. You and Jinu were laughing again, this time about pudding or condensed milk or something completely ordinary.

“That wasn’t an act,” Zoey whispered. “He looked… scared for her.”

“Demons don’t get scared,” Mira replied. But her eyes weren’t hard anymore. They were unsure. Quiet hung between them until Rumi finally spoke.

“I think… they’re soulbonded.”

Mira turned. “What?”

Rumi didn’t flinch. “I’ve read about it before. In one of the forbidden texts. Not something we were taught in training. It’s something that crossed my mind after seeing her with them. It would explain why they’re acting this way.”

Zoey blinked. “What does it mean?”

Rumi hesitated. She couldn’t say what she really knew. About her parents. About the ritual. About the patterns etched into her skin. So she gave a half-truth. “It means their souls… recognize each other. It’s not like a spell. It’s older than that. The bond makes them connected. In every way.”

Zoey paled. “So she feels everything they feel?”

Rumi nodded. “More or less.”

“Even if they’re demons?” Mira pressed, skeptical.

“Especially if they’re demons.”

Mira scoffed and looked away, but her voice cracked slightly. “Demons don’t even have souls. So what… she’s possessed now?”

“Maybe,” Rumi said. “Or maybe she chose it.”

That silenced them. They stepped out into the evening air. The city lights buzzed overhead as cars passed. Then—

“Wait,” Zoey breathed, staring at her phone. “She replied.”

Both Rumi and Mira immediately stepped in closer. Zoey turned the screen toward them. There it was.

‘Hey Zoey! Things have been a bit busy of late, I'm sorry. But I'm okay and safe. Thanks for checking up on me!’

Three pairs of eyes locked on the words. Not vague. Not panicked. Not coded or manipulated. Just… you.

Rumi tilted her head. “She sounds like herself.”

Mira frowned. “That could be scripted.”

“She followed you guys back too,” Zoey whispered, still staring at your profile. “That has to mean something.”

A beat passed. The sounds of the city blurred behind the thrum of uncertainty building between them. Zoey looked at Rumi. “Do you think she knows? That they’re… what they are?”

Rumi’s mouth pressed into a line. “I think she knows more than we think she does.”

Mira’s eyes hardened again. “Then she’s brainwashed.”

Zoey hesitated, then frowned. “But… if she was, why would she follow you guys back? Doesn’t that mean she’s in her right mind?”

That stopped Mira cold. Rumi glanced over.

“She didn’t have to reply either,” Zoey added. “But she did. And it didn’t sound… fake. Just honest. Like she wanted to say something.”

“She could’ve been told to reply,” Mira said, but her voice was tighter now. “Or controlled.”

“Maybe,” Zoey allowed. “But when I met her… I don’t know. She didn’t seem like someone under a spell.”

“You met her once.”

“I know,” Zoey said quickly. “I’m not saying I understand her. But… she looked scared and so sick that night. And now she’s not. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Silence followed. Rumi exhaled. “Maybe she is herself. Just… making choices we weren’t prepared for.”

Mira crossed her arms, tense. “Or maybe we’re seeing what they want us to see.”

They didn’t have an answer for that. But doubt had already slipped in — a hairline fracture in everything they’d trained to believe. Still, uncertainty lingered. And so did fear.

Because if the bond was real—if what they saw in Jinu’s eyes was real— Then that would shake the foundation of everything they had been taught. 

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The apartment smelled like garlic and butter by the time you and Jinu stepped through the door, arms full of groceries and cheeks still warm from earlier.

“There she is!” Seoha declared dramatically, leaping over the back of the couch with a pout that would’ve made a drama star jealous. “Snatched from under our noses. You kidnapped her, didn’t you, hyung?”

Jinu raised a brow. “You mean took her out for air like a normal person?”

Seoha clutched his chest. “She belongs to the collective. You can’t just hog her.”

You giggled, caught in the flurry of arms wrapping around you. Haneul was the next to hug you from behind, warm and sturdy, mumbling a gruff, “We missed you.” Hwimori popped his head out from the kitchen, gave you a soft smile, and disappeared again with a purring sound.

And then— There was Seungho.

Silent. Seated in the armchair like a king on a cold throne, long legs spread, one arm slung over the side. He hadn’t moved an inch since you walked in. But his eyes— Hot. Molten. Locked on you.

You swallowed hard.

Dinner passed in a comfortable haze of food, inside jokes, and everyone taking turns feeding you bites off their plates. Jinu scolded Seoha for using whipped cream as a dipping sauce. Haneul made you laugh so hard water came out of your nose. Hwimori brought out a special drink he’d brewed “just for your energy,” as he called it.

But Seungho… stayed quiet. Not disinterested. Not absent. Just watching. Waiting. You felt him before you even looked at him. That hum in the air, that itch under your skin — like being watched by something not quite human.

You didn’t tell the guys about Zoey’s message, or about Rumi and Mira following your account either. You knew they would scold you– disapprove. But something in your gut compelled you to reply. There was nothing wrong with just letting them know I’m safe at least, right? Maybe this way, they’ll ease off the guys too.

After dinner, you all gathered on the couch. Haneul pulled you into his side. Seoha laid across the rug with his feet on the coffee table. Jinu typed away on his phone responding to emails, only half-watching the screen. Hwimori sat at the kitchen bar, headphones on, humming while adjusting the mix on their new track. Seungho stayed in his armchair. Unmoving. Wordless. Still.

But his gaze hadn't left you once.

You knew tonight was supposed to be his.

He was the only one who hadn’t taken you yet. The others had already crossed that line, given in to the bond with hungry lips and whispered confessions. And Seungho had watched each time with the expression of a man chained to the edge of the world.

But tonight, he hadn’t made a move. No comment. No touch. Only his eyes—burning into you with every breath. What was he waiting for?

You bit your lip, heart hammering. Nervous, yes… but more than that— You were excited.

So you decided to push. Just a little.

You unwrapped a popsicle from the freezer, cool and glossy in your hand. You returned to the couch with a teasing little bounce, sitting cross-legged right across from Seungho. You licked it slowly. Then again.

And let out a soft moan. Just enough to be heard. You peeked at him from under your lashes and saw the way his jaw twitched.

One point for you.

“Hey,” Haneul murmured from beside you, nudging your arm. “What’d you even get at the store, hmm? You haven’t shown us.”

“Oh!” You perked up. “I got stuff for Hwimori’s birthday—real strawberries, whipped cream, the softest sponge cake mix I could find. I’m gonna make him that strawberry cake he secretly loves, even though he says he doesn’t want anything. And I grabbed matcha too— for cupcakes for all of you!”

Seoha rolled over with a delighted gasp. “You’re baking?”

“Mm-hmm,” you said proudly. “No stealing my frosting, though.”

Haneul gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. “You’re too sweet.”

Jinu looked up from his phone, smiling faintly. “He’s going to love it.”

Across the room, Seungho’s stare grew darker. You caught the shift—and smiled wider.

Later, you shifted on the couch, stretching your arms above your head in a faux yawn. Seoha couldn’t make up his mind on what to watch after the show you had been watching ended, so he was browsing through channels. Your oversized hoodie lifted just enough to reveal the soft skin of your inner thighs, devious at your plan to tease Seungho. 

You saw his gaze flicker down. Then back up. Still no reaction. No words. But his grip on the chair tightened—knuckles white on the armrest.

We’re getting somewhere. You didn’t know what the goal was, only that it was fun to push and tease him like this. You turned slightly, reaching forward for the remote with an arch in your back that had to be obvious.

“God,” Seoha muttered lazily from the rug, “are you trying to kill us, princess?”

You grinned innocently. “Hmm?”

From your periphery, Seungho tilted his head. That’s when you locked eyes with him.

“What?” you said sweetly. “You’re staring.”

Still, he said nothing. But a slow, devilish smirk curled across his lips.

Shit.

Just then, the news channel flicked on.

“…The rise in missing person reports has tripled over the past few days,” the anchor reported, voice grim. “Many victims were last seen walking home alone…”

You frowned, tension creeping into your chest. “That’s horrible. Why are people going missing like that?”

The room tensed. Hwimori pulled his headphones off slightly. Seoha looked down. Jinu didn’t look up from his phone.

“No idea,” Haneul said after a moment, tone casual—but too casual.

“Some weird gang thing perhaps,” Seoha added quickly. “I believe it’s being handled.”

“Handled by who?”

“The cops most likely,” Jinu said flatly.

You glanced around, finding their reactions a tad bit iffy. “Why do you all look like I asked who I kissed last summer?”

Haneul’s hand brushed your thigh. “Because you don’t have to worry about it. That’s our job.”

Seoha leaned up, eyes unusually serious. “That’s why we don’t want you going off alone. Ever.”

Haneul nodded. “You stick with us, yeah? You’re safe when you’re with us.”

The words had a heat behind them—not just protective. Possessive. Certain. But then— You looked back at Seungho.

Same chair. Same stillness. Same heat burning in his stare like he’d been plotting this moment for centuries.

You smiled. And bit down on the popsicle just a little harder than necessary.

Finally, He moved.

In a flash, Seungho rose to his feet, the chair creaking beneath him. He crossed the room in five strides, and you didn’t even flinch. Just kept smiling, even when his hand curled firmly around your jaw and tilted your face up to his. The other boys were smirking now, as if they had been in on your plan and knew what you had been doing.

His grip wasn’t rough—but it was unyielding. His fingers, calloused and cool, dragged along your chin as he bent over the back of the couch to meet your gaze. His voice was low. Deadly quiet.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

You smirked up at him, defiant and teasing. “I don’t know what you mean?”

He growled. Growled. An actual, guttural sound deep from his chest. His grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to warn. “Don’t test me, princess,” he said, breath hot against your cheek. “Not tonight.”

You licked your lips, slowly. Eyes dragging up and down his face. “Or what?”

You fucked around.

And now you were about to find out.

Seungho moved with brutal grace—releasing your jaw only to hook an arm under your thighs and another behind your back. In one sudden motion, he lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing.

“Wha—hey!”

You squealed, laughter and adrenaline bubbling up as your arms flailed for balance.  He had you slung over his shoulder like a caveman. “Seungho—!”

But he didn’t respond. He didn’t smirk. Didn’t joke. Didn’t even look at you. He just moved—stalking down the hallway like a man possessed, grip iron-tight around your body like he thought you might disappear if he let go.

Your heart thudded. Hard. The boys’ voices echoed behind you, still lounging casually like this was all a game. “Save me!!” you called back, hoping for some backup.

Seoha grinned, waving lazily. “Afraid we can’t help you this time, sweet girl.”

Haneul chuckled, crossing his arms. “Hope you stretched.”

Hwimori didn’t even look up. “Should’ve known better.”

You scowled looking up at them. “Traitors!”

Jinu just smirked into his phone. “You’ll be begging to walk tomorrow.”

Their teasing felt distant now—like the world was narrowing to just the two of you. Because suddenly, you weren’t laughing anymore. You weren’t just teasing. You weren’t sure anymore if you should’ve teased.

Seungho kicked open his bedroom door. The sound cracked against the walls like a warning shot. Your breath caught. He didn’t slow. Didn’t hesitate. Just walked straight in and threw you down onto the bed like you were the offering he’d waited lifetimes for.

You bounced once—landing on your back with a soft gasp—and looked up. And that’s when it hit you. The look in his eyes.

His chest was rising and falling. His shirt untucked, hair tousled like he’d finally stopped trying to be the cold, composed one. And his eyes— Molten. Golden. Demon. A predator finally off the leash.

Oh shit.

Your pulse raced. You knew he was intense. You’d seen the glint of hunger in his stare before. But this—this was something else. You thought you knew what you were doing when you teased him. You thought you were in control.

But now, lying there with your hoodie hitched up and your breath shallow, you weren’t so sure. Because the look in Seungho’s eyes?

It wasn’t just lust. It was hunger. Obsession. A silent promise that whatever was about to happen—it wasn’t going to be gentle.

And the worst part?

You wanted it.

Even as nervous chills danced down your spine, even as fear and thrill tangled in your gut— You wanted to know what happened when Baby finally snapped.

Your chest heaved as you stared up at him. The air in Seungho’s room was colder than the rest of the apartment — or maybe it just felt that way because you’d been stripped down to your nerves. He stood above you, silent, looming. His eyes— Not warm. Not soft. Not teasing.

They were starved. Molten gold flickering like firelight in a storm. His stare traveled over your body like it was something holy. Something his. He tilted his head slowly, predator in no rush. He licked his lips and let out a quiet, amused scoff.

“You think you’re cute, teasing me like that?”

Your lips parted.

“You think licking that popsicle was funny?” he asked, voice low and gravel-rich. “Flashing your thighs. Stretching on the couch like you didn’t know I was watching.”

You swallowed hard.

“You pulled the trigger, baby,” he said, stepping closer. “I was waiting for you to.”

“Seungho—”

───────── SMUT ─────────

You didn’t get another word out. His hands gripped your hoodie and ripped it up over your head. Your back arched as the fabric scraped over your arms, leaving you in nothing but your little shorts and a bra that suddenly felt far too thin.

He growled. Actually growled. His gaze devoured the exposed skin of your torso like he didn’t know where to start. Then he turned, opening his bedside drawer. You pushed up on your elbows to peek—then froze.

Silk ties. Long. Black. Smooth.

You didn’t even have time to react before he was on you again. He dragged you effortlessly to the top of the bed, shoved a pillow beneath your hips to tilt your body up, and straddled your legs to keep you still as he bound your wrists—tight—to the carved headboard.

Your breath hitched. “Wh-what are you doing—?”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear. “Showing you what happens when you play games with the wrong demon.”

Then he moved again—off the bed, walking like a panther circling his prey. Your eyes followed him in alarm, and that’s when you saw it. The mirror. Full-length. Mounted directly across from the bed. You tugged lightly at the ties as he stepped in front of it and tilted the angle just right.

Now you were fully visible—your flushed skin, your bound wrists, your parted thighs. Every inch of you. Right there in the glass.

And then came his voice: “You wanted attention?” he said, eyes flickering to your reflection. “I’ll give you something to look at.”

He climbed into bed with fluid grace, spreading your thighs apart with firm, unrelenting hands. You whimpered, squirming slightly, feeling the cotton of your shorts cling to your core. He knelt between your legs, and with deliberate slowness, peeled your shorts down and off. His gaze turned ravenous when he saw your soaked panties.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice shaking with restraint. “Look at you.”

You tried to look away, but he gripped your chin and turned your head sharply toward the mirror. “Eyes. Up.”

You whimpered.

“I said, look.”

You obeyed.

“There,” he murmured, lips brushing your cheek. “See her? That helpless little thing? That’s the result of your teasing. That’s you, baby. That’s what you did.” His hand slid between your legs, cupping you firmly over the fabric. “See the consequences of your actions.”

Then he kissed the inside of your thigh. His hands slowly peeling your undergarments off one by one until you were completely bare for him. “They got to have you first,” he muttered, voice low and trembling with something dangerous. “But I’m the last.”

“And I’m gonna make you remember me.”

Then his mouth met your heat. You cried out, hips bucking instantly against the soft, wet pressure of his tongue. He groaned like your taste had just saved him. Your wrists tugged against the silk restraints, desperate to ground yourself, to grab something—anything—as he lapped at you like a man starved.

His mouth was unrelenting. Not gentle. Not teasing. Desperate. His lips wrapped around your clit with aching precision. His tongue flicked mercilessly, dragging out wet, keening moans you couldn’t contain. You tried to lift your head again, and his palm pressed against your stomach to keep you down.

“No,” he hissed. “Watch. Keep your eyes on yourself.”

You whimpered, teary-eyed, as you looked into the mirror. Saw the way your thighs trembled. The way your mouth hung open in a silent moan. The way his head moved between your legs like he was starving for you. Your breath came in ragged gasps. “Seungho—”

Then— Two fingers plunged into you, deep and thick. Your back arched violently, thighs trying to close around his head, but he pinned you open with a snarl.

“Too fast—ah—Seungho—slow—”

He looked up, mouth wet, jaw tight. “You wanted to tease me, baby?” Another thrust. Rougher. Meaner. “Take responsibility.”

You were trembling, gasping, completely powerless as the orgasm crashed over you like white fire. Your cries bounced off the walls, off the glass, off the bones of your own ribs. Your arms strained against the bindings, useless. You came—a high, keening scream ripped from your throat, hips convulsing as he didn’t slow down for a second.

He groaned, burying his face back into your cunt and licking you through it all, dragging his tongue through your slick as if it was the first drop of water in a thousand years. “Mmm… taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he growled. “You made me wait. Watch them fuck you first. Thought I’d sit still like I wasn’t dying for this.”

You whimpered, still catching your breath, chest heaving. “I—Seungho—I just came—”

“I don’t care.”

You froze. 

“You’ll come as many times as I tell you.”

You yelped as his mouth returned to your clit and his fingers thrust back in without pause. The overstimulation hit you like a tidal wave. Your legs kicked, trembling violently. “I—I can’t—please—”

“Yes, you can,” he snarled, sucking hard, pushing deeper. “You’re gonna take everything I give you. That’s what happens when you play with monsters.”

Your second orgasm hit even harder. Your body jerked against the restraints, sobbing now with the intensity of it. Tears leaked from your eyes, your thighs shaking, lips babbling something between a plea and a moan.

But he didn’t stop. Even after you shattered a second time, he kept going. His fingers fucked you harder, mouth gliding over your swollen clit like it was his purpose.

You sobbed, truly cried out, nearly shaking apart under him. “Please—please—I can’t—”

“You’re mine,” he rasped into your heat. “You can. You will. Look how pretty you cry when I ruin you.”

You almost couldn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. Tear-stained cheeks, flushed skin, the look of someone at the edge once again. It was all too much, and before you knew it, you climaxed on Seungho’s fingers for a third time, utterly spent. 

He finally slowed—finally—and pulled back, breathing hard, lips slick. You were trembling, sweat cooling on your skin, thighs twitching uncontrollably. You barely had the strength to lift your head when you saw him sit back on his knees… and start to undress.

Your eyes widened in fear and awe. Because when his shirt came off, and his hand moved to his pants— You saw it. His cock. Thick. Long. Hard. Aching to be inside you. You choked on a breath.

And then his voice, low and cruel: “You’re gonna take it all, sweetheart.”

“You teased me. You earned this.”

You were trembling, body slack against the pillows, skin dewy with sweat and your own slick. Tears clung to your lashes. Your breath came in ragged, uneven pulls. Your lips were parted, swollen from gasping. Every part of you ached — your legs, your wrists, your cunt — and still, Seungho didn’t look done.

He was looming above you, shirtless, golden demon eyes locked on your ruined body like it was something sacred and filthy all at once. You couldn’t stop staring at his chest. The faint, glowing patterns on his torso pulsed like veins of lava beneath his skin, curling up his arms like a brand claiming him for something darker. His toned frame was slick with sweat, abs flexing each time he shifted his stance, and below his navel—

You swallowed hard.

His cock was thick and flushed, veins along the shaft pronounced, head glossy and angry and twitching for you. He gripped the base with one large hand, jaw tight as he looked down between your legs. You whimpered when he slid the tip along your slit — up and down, slow, teasing, gathering the wetness that soaked your thighs and dripped onto the sheets.

Even now, after everything, your body responded. Your pussy clenched on air like it knew.

“Still needy?” he murmured, voice rasped and rough with restraint. “Even after I made you cum three times?” He chuckled low in his chest, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

He leaned over you, letting the head of his cock rest right at your entrance, pressing just enough to make your breath catch. “You wanted to play?” he growled, lips brushing your jaw. “Well, sweetheart—this is what happens when you play with me.”

Then he sank in. All at once. You screamed. It was too much.

The stretch was unreal, painful and perfect, your walls struggling to accommodate him as your back arched, wrists jerking against the ties. Your entire body clenched down on him like a vice.

Seungho groaned deeply, head falling forward, strands of hair clinging to his damp forehead. His hand braced beside your head as he shoved in deeper—inch after inch—until he was buried to the hilt, so deep you could feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck—fuck—” he hissed, hips twitching as your body spasmed around him. “So fucking tight. You feel like heaven.”

He stayed there for a moment, completely inside you, like he was savoring every pulse of your cunt squeezing around him. “This what I’ve been missing?” he growled, voice guttural. “All this time? Watching them touch you? Thinking I could wait?”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to thrust again—slow and deliberate. The sound of your wetness echoed with every roll of his hips. You cried out, barely able to hold onto your breath, your body already trembling.

Then he looked down between your legs. Watched his cock disappear inside you again, coated in your slick. He moaned under his breath. “Look at how good you take me. Like you were made for me.”

“Seungho…” You moaned. Your head lolled back, eyes unfocused. He leaned down and grabbed your jaw.

“Eyes up.” He turned your face toward the mirror again. You whimpered. You didn’t want to look—couldn’t. But his voice made you obey.

“There she is,” he said softly, watching your reflection tremble. “There’s my greedy little thing. Crying, drooling, dripping for it. You proud of yourself?”

He delivered a hard thrust of his hips, making your body jolt and you cry out, “You should be.”

Then he reached down, grabbed your thighs, and pushed them up to your chest, folding you completely beneath him. The angle made you gasp—his cock hit so deep, it felt like your soul jumped.

“You asked for this, baby,” he grunted, snapping his hips forward again. “You wanted to be ruined? I’m giving you everything.”

Your legs trembled violently in his grip, head thrown back as the pleasure slammed into you again and again. The mirror reflected your shaking body, your tits bouncing from every thrust, your wrists bound and straining, tears streaking your cheeks—and Seungho, towering over you, hips pistoning, eyes locked on your face like he was devouring every second.

“I—Seungho—close—I’m close—!”

He didn’t slow. “Then give it to me,” he growled. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

You shattered. You came with a scream, spine bowing off the bed, vision whiting out as your pussy clenched around him like a vice. He groaned low, guttural, but didn’t stop. You were still spasming when he let you breathe—just for a second.

Then— Without warning, he flipped you onto your stomach. You yelped, the silk tie twisting above you as he forced your knees under you, ass in the air.

Your body ached, wrists pulled taut. You couldn’t see him—until he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head up.

The mirror. There you were. Bent over, tied, trembling, sweat glistening on your back. And behind you—Seungho. Eyes glowing, torso lined with markings, cock throbbing as he lined up again.

“You think we’re done?” he rasped, voice right at your ear. “I’m just getting started.”

“Wait—wait, Seungho, I can’t—!”

He slammed into you from behind, forcing a scream from your throat. He fucked you mercilessly—hands gripping your ass tight, hips slapping into yours so hard the bed creaked. You sobbed, overwhelmed, every nerve raw, overstimulated and broken. His mouth kissed down your spine, tongue dragging along your skin.

Then he pushed your back down with one hand and lifted your ass even higher. “Watch,” he whispered, voice sinful.

You raised your eyes—barely able to look. And what you saw— Your demon behind you, markings glowing faintly, sweat glistening down his sculpted chest as he ravaged you. The wet, rhythmic slap of skin filled the room. You were crying. Shaking. Fucked out and broken open. 

This wasn’t the Baby everyone else knew and saw. This beast– Seungho, was yours. And only you would ever get to experience this side of him. The thought made your insides hot. The way this monster only came out, only lost control with you. Then— 

Another orgasm ripped through you. It hit like a wave crashing through your spine, your body jerking violently as your juices spilled down your thighs, dripping onto the sheets.

Seungho snarled above you. “Only I can do this to you,” he hissed. “Only I get to ruin you like this.”

He flipped you again. You landed on your back, whimpering, legs too weak to hold up. So he did it for you.

He grabbed your thighs and raised them high on his shoulders, climbing between them, cock still hard, flushed, demanding. You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. 

He didn’t wait. He slid back in and fucked you harder than ever, weight pressing down on you. You could barely breathe.

“Please—Seungho—please—come—!”

His hand slid to your throat, tightening just enough to make you whimper. His other hand gripped your jaw.

“Eyes on me,” he growled. “You wanted to play?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips. “Then take it.”

You sobbed, tears spilling again, mouth falling open. “I— I can’t— !”

“You’ve got one more in you, princess,” he said, voice low, almost tender. “I know you do.”

“Give it to me.”

Then he grabbed your face, forced your head to the side— And made you watch the mirror. You saw him pounding into you, biting your neck, owning you. You saw the tears on your cheeks, the wild look in your eyes, the way your tits bounced with every thrust. You saw his face—sharp, flushed, glowing, utterly consumed by you.

“Seungho—please—! I can’t—!”

“Yes. You can.”

He thrust deeper.

“You will.”

You screamed, a broken, helpless sound as your final orgasm tore through you like lightning. Your whole body convulsed, cunt fluttering wildly around his cock as the bond between you flared— It pulsed, shook, burned. You could feel him in your soul.

And then— He roared. Seungho finally lost control, slamming into you one last time as he came hard, cock twitching inside you as he spilled deep into your womb.

He didn’t speak right away—just panted, breath shaky, forehead resting against yours, like he couldn’t believe you were real. Then, soft and raw: “They had you first.”

“But I’m the one who’ll leave you wrecked.”

“You’ll never forget this. Not a single fucking second of it.”

Your body was trembling. Your soul was thrumming. You had nothing left to give.

And Seungho? He looked at you like he just claimed the only thing in the world that ever mattered.

He didn’t move. Not right away. He stayed inside you, buried deep, arms braced on either side of your head, golden eyes locked on your tear-streaked face. His hips trembled against yours, still pulsing with aftershocks from the orgasm that wrecked him.

You were crying. Still. But not from pain. Just overwhelmed. Shaking. Floating. And he… he looked at you like you were the only thing in the universe that existed.

──────── SMUT ENDS ────────

His hand reached up, cupped your jaw, thumb smearing your tears as he kissed you. Over and over—softly, messily. Your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. “You did so good for me,” he whispered, voice frayed with emotion. “So fucking good.”

You whimpered as his lips brushed your temple again. He nuzzled you gently, still catching his breath. “You took all of me like you were made for it,” he murmured. “Perfect, perfect girl.”

His palm moved over your ribcage like he was checking if you were real. And still—he stayed inside. Still wrapped in you like he couldn’t bear the loss of warmth. “Breathe for me,” he whispered, rubbing your hips. “You’re okay. You’re okay, baby.”

You gasped softly, blinking up at him, still floating.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again. “I’ll always have you.”

His lips found your jaw again, then your shoulder. His fingers gently threaded through the messy strands of your hair. Then—carefully, tenderly—he reached up to untie the silk from your wrists. Your arms trembled as they fell around his shoulders, and he held you instantly, pulling you against his chest. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, sobbing softly, and he wrapped around you like armor.

He kissed the top of your head. Again. And again. “You’re mine,” he whispered against your hair, voice trembling now. “No one touches you like this but us. No one ever gets to have you like this.”

You felt his heart racing through his chest, the heat of his body caging you in. Only when your breathing started to slow, only when your tears finally ebbed, did he whisper, “I’m gonna pull out now, alright?”

You nodded weakly. He kissed your forehead once more, and then—slowly, reluctantly—he slipped out of you. You both hissed. You whimpered at the loss, your body clenching around nothing, fluttering, twitching. Seungho exhaled shakily and ran his hands down your thighs, cupping your hips with tenderness. “Okay?” he asked, voice lower now. “Are you okay, baby?”

Your lashes fluttered, and you looked up at him with a small, exhausted smile. “I’ll take anything you give me.”

He froze. Then his arms were around you again, pulling you to his bare chest with a shaky, desperate groan. He buried his face in your neck and held you like you might disappear if he didn’t anchor you to him. “Don’t say things like that,” he whispered harshly. “Don’t—don’t tell me that like it doesn’t mean everything.”

You felt his voice crack against your skin. “I don’t know what to do with that kind of love.”

You clung to him tighter. He let out a shaking breath. “Ever since I told you… what I was… who I was before all this—I thought you'd leave. Or run. Or look at me like I was the monster I am.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him. And there they were. Tears in his eyes. He was trying not to blink. Like if he did, they’d fall and expose him fully. But you saw it. The tremble in his bottom lip. The way his hands flexed on your back like he was holding in a lifetime’s worth of fear.

You reached up, cupped his face, and kissed them away. One tear. Then another. He closed his eyes as you kissed each one. Gently. Delicately. Like he was fragile glass. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. “I see you. All of you. And I still want you.”

His breath hitched.

“And by the way…” You sniffled, voice turning soft and cheeky. “I’ve never had sex that intense before,” you said with a tired little grin. “But I loved it. Every bit of it.” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “You’ve all waited for me for so long. I get it now.”

He blinked slowly, lips parted. “I wanted it to be perfect,” he murmured, voice thick. “I wanted to hold out… make it mean something.”

You cupped his face again. “It did mean something.”

Then, softly, dangerously, he leaned in and whispered: “You’re mine.” His breath hit your lips. “Forever. Mine.”

Your heart skipped. He pressed his lips to yours again, then broke it just to chuckle low in his chest. “You’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

You groaned, collapsing into his chest with a tired giggle. “I already can’t feel my legs.”

He grinned against your hair. “At least it’s the good kind of pain,” you teased.

He huffed a warm laugh, brushing your hair from your forehead. “The only kind you’ll ever get from me,” he said softly.

Then, more serious: “I’ll never hurt you. Not like before. Not like… then.”

You kissed the side of his throat and whispered, “You never have.”

He held you tighter. And for once, Seungho—the coldest one—finally let himself melt.

TO BE CONTINUED

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Baby / Seungho finally gets his turn after waiting for you! And boy, did he show us a good time. I wanted to make his scene play into his character as much as possible, and it was just the only way I could see him snapping. He's always been the most... unhinged out of the five. So I hope the wait was worth it! Also, given the plot and characterizations of the fic, the boys are naturally more dominant than the reader, so that's kinda just always been how I imagined them being in the bedroom. Though who knows for future smut chapters things could get a bit interesting. Next chapter won't have smut as the plot will get rolling now. Also, I hope you all enjoyed my little guest appearance of Hongdae guy haha. Just felt like a good laugh to insert in that scene.

Let me know if you guys enjoyed this chapter! Comment, Reblog, Like- I see it all and it always means so much to me! Till the next chapter!

Willa x.

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[just-an-anon-reader]

Me seeing this: ooh~ Niceeee

Me reading this: AuGH! The painnnn

sweet as salty tears - part i - Prince!Vash x Reader

part ii (coming soon)

But tell me now, where was my fault In loving you with my whole heart?

- "White Blank Page" by Mumford and Sons

It is a crisp autumn day for the capital. Time, it seems, for baked goods with cinnamon and sugar frosting. 

Down to the castle kitchens you go, grabbing two fresh cinnamon rolls from the boisterous cook. She knows you by now, how you fetch things like this for your husband. “Keep it up, princess,” she crows while you walk out the door, “we’ll be having heirs galore if you do!”

Never minding the absolute flush you have at that implication, you can’t help but smile. A year and some months have passed since your wedding. While no heirs are apparent (and goodness, you and Vash can barely talk about it without getting flustered), it is clear that you two have grown very fond of each other. You smile at the thought. He’s very earnest and sincere for a man. A husband. Honest and kind. Much more than you expected when you first agreed to the arrangement. 

In all honesty, you expected a horrible marriage. All other dukes and princes you met in your formative years proved that. They were arrogant or aloof, caring not for the feelings of those around them beyond what they could give. Hungry eyes would follow your form; they wanted power, and to bed a woman who could give them that. It made your skin crawl even now. Being bedridden with child year after year until one of them kills you…It isn’t worth thinking about.

Vash is…different. Sweet. Thoughtful. Your cheeks warm again just at the thought of him. Just the other day he held your hand. Just because. Just to play with your fingers, roll your marriage band around with his. His hands were soft and warm. He is good-natured to a fault. Loves children. Loves everyone, really, even those who scoff or mock him and his family. And he has never, not once, pressed you for bedroom intimacy. That, you know, is different than most men, who corral their wives into bed whenever they please. Respectful, yes, that’s the word. You nod. Your husband is respectful of you. That is more than worth its weight in gold for a woman.

Walking through the castle halls, you ponder your husband, the gooey rolls in both hands held carefully between napkins. The fluttering in your heart increases knowing you will see him soon. Perhaps you love him. No, you do love him. But are you in love with him? The thought has you grinning down at your sweets. Makes you want to walk on your tiptoes and twirl around like you did as a girl. Well, you certainly have a crush on him. You laugh at the word. To have a crush on your own husband! How foolish he makes you feel. And yet, you don’t mind it. Not one bit.

It is on this blissful high that you come to Nai’s study. He and Vash usually meet around this time. As you’re about to knock on the cracked-open door with an elbow, a raised voice stops you.

“Why didn’t you marry her instead?”

Your smile freezes. That was Vash.

A sigh follows. “You know why I couldn’t — “

“No, I don’t, actually. You just wanted to get out of your own consequences for nearly starting another war!”

The sound of puffing breath, of papers moving. “Vash, whatever you think, this is your responsibility now.”

“Responsibility,” Vash laughs, mirthless. “That’s all it’s ever been about. ‘Responsibility.’ What if I told you I don’t want to be married? Or have children? What if I just divorced her? What would you do then?”

Your hands shake imperceptibly. You should stop listening. Obviously this involves you in some way, and Vash is angry, and you shouldn’t eavesdrop on your own married family, much less the king. But…you lean closer, willing something else to be said.

“You and I both know you would never do that.” Nai almost sounds bored by the argument. 

The sound of a fist slamming into the oak desk. “Try me!” 

A tense silence. Then, “You care about her too much.” It’s an accusation, coming from Nai. Something to be looked down upon. “Marriage is a contract. An agreement. And neither of you are fulfilling your ends of the deal.”

Vash growls, and you hear the sound of boots marching on the floor. “I’d rather divorce her than do what you’re suggesting!”

“Love is getting in the way of your — “

“I’m not in love with her!” Vash shouts. Then, slower, quieter, “I’m just a decent person.”

Your stomach rolls, and you look down at the now-crushed pastries in your hands. When did that happen? You unclench your fists, watching the gooey frosting cling to the napkin and your fingers. The tips of your ears burn. There’s a distinct hotness coming from your cheeks. What are they talking about?

Nai blows out a breath. “Be that as it may — “

“No. You know what? I’m done talking with you.”

“Vash — “

Boots stomp toward the door. Your legs shake. You should walk away. Now. But you can’t. Even turning away will help, you think. But you stare at the painted wood before you.

Vash stops just before the door. “I would do anything to get out of this marriage if it stopped your scheming!” The door flings open, and there is your husband, face flushed with anger and blue eyes sparking in frustrated fury. It’s a new emotion you’ve yet to see from him. You’d be interested, if not for your own shaking.

He stops as soon as he sees you. Says your name, confused. Then, he goes pale. He’s realized. His mouth opens and closes once, twice. It seems you’re both at a loss for words.

Fortunately, yours come back in a rush. Shoving the roll at him, you say, “I brought you a snack, but I didn’t realize you’d be busy. I…I hope you like it!”

The frosting smears against his red vest. He looks down, hands coming up to cradle it. Again, he says your name. Your eyes see the glint of gold on his ring finger. It pierces your heart like a knife. You continue. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m…I’m sorry.” You both feel the double meaning of your small apology. 

Vash shakes his head, reaching a hand toward you. You step back. “I’m afraid I can’t stay to chat,” you say, distant, your manners and ways building a large wall in the space between. “Good day, Prince.”

“Wait,” he pleads, “Let me explain — “

“Explain what?” Your smile is plastered on. Pleasant and refined. Remember who you are. “What we both already know?” Even as you say it, your heart plummets into your stomach. You’re a fool. A girlish, naive fool. 

Vash flinches. “No,” he says. He takes a step toward you. His eyes flit between yours. Desperate, anguished.

Another step back. “I really must be gone. Good day.” And then, you turn and flee. You know he tries to follow. Calls your name again and again. But Nai stops him before he can catch you. For once, you’re grateful for your brother-in-law’s good sense. 

Down stairs and through hallways and doors you go, until you’re panting in the maze-like gardens of the palace. You lost your cinnamon roll somewhere along the way; only white frosting clings to the insides of your fingers now. You clop in your heels to a nearby stone bench. Sitting down heavily, skirts pooling around you, you feel the first sting of tears come to your eyes. 

And why shouldn’t you? You’ve just had your feelings hurt. Am I really such a great burden, you wonder, to warrant the kindest man’s ire? That was unfair to think, you know, but wallowing in self-pity sounds pretty good right now. So with sticky fingers and a broken heart, you weep in the deepest part of the gardens, away from prying eyes and a once-loving husband.

[just-an-anon-reader]

Me reading this chapter:

The Crimson Pact | Part 7

Characterizations | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, hurt/comfort

A/N: Y'all this is it. The chapter I know many of you guys have been WAITING for. I think you know what I mean. I've been DYING to release this one. This part is longer than the others. Be prepared for the emotional whiplash (nothing too angsty - though backstory here is a killer). We're diving into some intense territory now with the bond. And after this chapter, the spice levels will rise. I hope you enjoy this one!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery)

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 7

The Room Where We Return

You dream. Again. But this time, it’s not someone else’s memory. It’s yours.

You stand at the center of nothing and everything—void and light coiling like mist around your feet. Your skin glows, soft and pulsing, like something not entirely human anymore. Something caught between. Your hands are raised. Open. Trembling.

And from your chest—Crimson threads unravel. Smoke-like. Luminous. Alive. Each one stretches into the dark, winding through the void like veins, tugging toward five distant shapes.

Jinu. Haneul. Seoha. Hwimori. Baby.

You can’t see their faces, but you know them—by feeling, by pull, by pain. The threads sink into them, into their chests, hearts, cores. And when they twitch—so do you. You try to breathe. But it’s like those threads are lungs. And they are breath.

One thread pulses. Another burns. Another coils tighter. You try to step back but you can’t.

Because you’re not holding them. They’re holding you. And every line that connects you is both a leash and a lifeline. They glow brighter. You flicker.

And then—

You wake.

Gasping, heart pounding like it’s trying to claw its way out of your ribs. The room is dark. Cool. Quiet. But you aren’t. You press a hand to your chest. It’s still there—that echo. The phantom pull. Like invisible strings wound through your bones.

You sit up slowly, vision swimming, thoughts tangled. It wasn’t just a dream. You felt it. The connection. The weight. The heat of them inside you, wrapped in something more than memory.

Something deeper than even the soulbond. You don’t know the word. But you feel its shape. Not a passenger in their curse—but the anchor. The thing that lets them stay.

You swallow hard. Because that means…  If the threads fray— You all fall.

Theres a faint knock at the door. Then a pause. Not tentative. Not polite. Just… waiting. Like a predator letting you catch your breath. You don’t answer. But the door opens anyway.

He walks in like he owns the air. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t ask. Just stands in your doorway with that quiet, unsettling stillness that’s somehow louder than shouting.

Baby.

His eyes find you instantly—tucked in bed, arms clutching the sheets, skin damp with sweat. Your breath’s still erratic, your chest still rising too fast. And his jaw tightens. Hard.

“Another dream?” he asks, voice low, flat. Not emotionless. Controlled but barely. You nod slowly. He walks closer. No hesitation. No uncertainty. Just that quiet, unshakeable pull.

He crouches beside the bed, one hand reaching for your wrist—checking your pulse without asking. His fingers are cold. Gentle. But the moment he feels how fast you’re beating, his face darkens. “I’ll destroy whatever’s haunting you,” he murmurs. Not a threat. Not bravado. A fact. A vow. You try to sit up, but he presses you back down with a firm palm on your shoulder. “No,” he says. “Rest. You’re not leaving this bed until your heart stops trying to escape your chest.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he snaps, finally looking you in the eye. And there it is. The storm. Quiet. Fierce. Controlled only by the thinnest thread.

“You think I don’t feel it?” he hisses, voice shaking now. “Every time you wake up like that. Every time you cry in silence. Every dream you don’t tell us about.” He leans closer, his lips almost at your temple. “I’d burn the world if it meant you slept peacefully.”

Your breath catches. The bond hums—taut, aching. He presses a kiss to your damp hair. Then another. His hand strokes down your arm, fingers splayed possessively over your pulse point like he’s branding you with touch alone.

“Next time,” he says softly, “call for me.” A pause. Then his lips ghost your ear: “I want to be the only thing in your dreams.”

He stands up slowly. Reluctantly. Like every inch he puts between you costs him something real. And before he leaves— He turns at the door, voice a whisper of steel: “If anything ever tries to take you again... it won’t live long enough to try twice.”

The door shuts. But you don’t feel alone. Not with how your pulse still trembles in your throat. Not with how your body still remembers his touch. Not with how, under your skin, every demon who loves you is starting to hum.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The sky bleeds into dusk, soft violet bruising the clouds above. Crickets stir in the tall grass below. The city glows in the distance. Jinu leans against a stone wall, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the gravel slope.

He checks his phone. Then checks the shadows. “She wants to meet and she’s late?” he tsked under his breath, scoffing. “Unbelievable.”

He shifts his weight again, jaw tightening. He hated this. Not the waiting. Not the secret meeting. But the distance. After everything that happened—after the old one, after the way you clung to Haneul like you’d die without him—Jinu didn’t want to be this far from you. Not for a second. Not while the taste of your fear still clung to his tongue like blood.

You should be in his arms. He should’ve been home. “Rumi,” he muttered, eyes narrowing. “You better be worth this.”

A figure appeared beside him, utterly silent. He shrieked. “Shit—” Jinu staggered back, hand over his heart. “You made me come all the way out here just so you could jump-scare me?!”

Rumi didn’t even blink. “Follow me.” She turned on her heel and started walking. He rolled his eyes, pushing off the wall. “Well, I’m thrilled you’re finally ready to talk. Although, I just want to clarify—this is not a date.”

She froze. “Date? No! Ew! What are you talking about?” she snapped.

Jinu held up the invitation she sent him. ‘Save the Date’.

Rumi groaned. “You’re so old. This is strictly a business meeting.”

Jinu sighed in relief. “Okay. Good.”

They walked side-by-side up the gentle slope, wind tugging at Rumi’s hair as the city lights flickered beneath them like stars. Then, finally, she spoke. “What if I told you there’s another way to get your freedom?”

Jinu’s brow raised. “Go on.”

Rumi stopped at the edge of the overlook, gaze on the skyline. “Help us win the idol awards. If Huntrix wins… the Honmoon will be sealed. Permanently. If we do this, Gwi Ma loses. The demons will vanish from this world. I’ll finally be free of these patterns. You’ll be free from him. No more debts. No more whispers in your head. You can stay—on this side, when the Honmoon is sealed.”

She looked at him now. “You could be free, Jinu.”

Jinu stared at her.

And then—he laughed. Short. Bitter. “You really don’t get it,” he said softly. He turned his back to the skyline, folding his arms again. “That’s not going to work. I’m not sealing us away.”

Rumi frowned. “Why not? You’ve always hated serving Gwi Ma—” Realization dawned in her eyes. “It’s her,” she whispered suddenly. “Isn’t it?”

Jinu’s expression hardened. And then—he nodded once. “Yes. It’s her.” His voice dropped into something deeper, darker, reverent and sharp all at once. “Our souls are tied to her. We’re soulbonded. Each of us. A bond deeper than blood or magic or fate.”

“She’s the reason we’re even here—you think we’d risk her? Gwi Ma made it clear: if we betray him, if we interfere with the destruction of the Honmoon, he’ll tear her from the cycle completely. No reincarnation. No afterlife. Just… gone.”

He met Rumi’s eyes now, fierce. “I’m not risking that. I’m not risking her.”

Rumi’s throat bobbed. Her fingers curled, face struck with realization. It made so much sense now. Why she’d seen you around them so often. That look in his eyes… So full of you. So absolute. So—

Familiar.

Is this how my father looked at my mother? she thought. Is this what he felt?

She shook her head. “But what if you didn’t have to lose her? What if—if the bond is strong enough—if she’s still on this side, you could stay too?”

“No,” Jinu snapped. “You don’t get it. Gwi Ma said that she’d be free of the cycle and become eternal. With us. If we allow the Honmoon to seal the way your side wants—she’ll die again. And this time, we won’t know if she’ll ever come back. We won’t know anything.”

“You don’t know that—”

“I do!” His voice cracked. “Because I’ve lost her before. Over and over. And this world doesn’t deserve her. Every time she’s here, it chews her up. Breaks her. And you’re asking me to stand there and let it happen again?”

Rumi flinched. “It’s for the world,” she whispered.

Jinu stepped forward, eyes burning. “She’s my world.” He stated with finality. “She’s ours,” he hissed. “And this world—this cruel, ugly, unworthy place—was never kind to her. Why should we be kind to it?”

Rumi’s breath caught. He turned. “You want your freedom. I get it. I do. But don’t ask me to lose her again just to buy yours.” And then—softer, barely a breath: “I won’t help you seal her away. I won’t let her suffer. Not for your plan. Not for anyone’s.”

He walked off into the dark.

Rumi stood frozen, chest rising too fast. His words echoed in her mind, louder than anything. She’s our world.

‘We’re soulbonded.’

Her hands trembled. Because… she’d read that before. In a letter. A letter she was never supposed to read. A letter written in a desperate, crooked hand. From a demon who once loved a human so much… he tried to build a bridge just to stay.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The day off begins slow, sun pouring through gauzy curtains, the scent of coffee and toasted rice wafting from the kitchen. You blink sleep from your lashes, stretched beneath a blanket you don’t remember pulling over yourself. You’re not alone—Haneul is lounging on the floor near the couch, shirtless (of course he is) and barefoot, flipping through a magazine upside down like he’s been waiting for you to stir.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he drawls, not looking up. “Dream of me?”

You blink. “Who brought me out here? And No.”

“Baby did an hour ago. And you’re a liar,” he says immediately, grinning. “I felt your bond spike around 3 a.m. That was definitely me.”

You toss a pillow at him, suddenly reminded of your dream last night and Baby’s appearance by your bedside. Haneul catches it easily and stands, walking over and leaning down until his nose brushes your temple.

“If you were anyone else,” he murmurs, “I’d be mad you threw something at me. But you?” His lips graze your jaw. “I’d let you stab me if it meant you looked at me that way again.”

A shiver erupts down your spine at the close proximity. His bare chest and sculpted torso almost too much to handle. You gulp lightly as your eyes shift down. Haneul smirks at the heat in your eyes. “Flustered? Cat got your tongue?”

Your cheeks tinge pink. “Shut up.” You mumble and shove him playfully. He laughs and watches as you shuffle into the kitchen—only to find Hwimori perched on the counter, already eating your cereal. “You’re up,” he says around a mouthful. Then, more softly, “Smell better today.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

He nuzzles his head under your chin anyway. “I didn’t like yesterday. Your scent was wrong. Empty.”

“Glad to be back to normal?”

His grip tightens around your waist. “This is normal. You. Me. Us. Don’t forget it.” Before you can respond, your phone buzzes. 

It's a DM from Zoey: "Where’ve you been hiding? Let’s hang out!”

You hesitate and freeze for a second. This was so random. Why is she messaging you now when you met weeks ago? It was very out of nowhere. Was this a plan to use you to get to the boys?

The boys notice immediately. Jinu walks in, towel drying his hair, shirt loose over his abs. Yum. 

You blink, almost forgetting about the text for a second as you eye his form. Why did he look so good with his hair damp? 

“Problem?”

You shake your head to snap out of it. Bad, Y/N, Bad! You show him the screen without a word. He reads it, jaw ticking. Haneul peers over his shoulder.

“No.”

That’s all he says. Just no. Your lips quirk up in a smirk. You were starting to enjoy their possessive behavior a little too much nowadays. You raise a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not seeing her,” Seoha calls from the hallway as he buttons his cuffs. “Too risky.”

“I can’t even go out with a friend?” You tease, fully knowing they would protest to that.

“She is NOT your friend.” Seoha interjects, eyes in disbelief. “Did you forget what we told you?”

Hwimori growls softly beside you. “No. You stay here. Where we can feel you.”

You cross your arms and fake pout. Seoha narrows his eyes at that. “Fine. If I can’t go out with her… who’s taking me out today?”

That gets their attention.

Seoha grins slyly. “Tricky girl… I volunteer!”

Haneul steps forward. “Absolutely not. She’s mine today.”

“I’m already holding her,” Hwi mumbles.

Jinu sighs like a disappointed king. “You children are embarrassing yourselves.”

You smirk. “Then are you going to take me, your majesty?”

He raises a brow. “You’re lucky I’m weak for you.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You end up in the apartment garden, curled up under Jinu’s arm as he introduces you to his demon spirit pets. The first is a massive blue tiger with unsettlingly large eyes and too many teeth.

You squeak. “Why does he look like that?”

“He’s sensitive,” Jinu deadpans.

The tiger blinks slowly… and lays its head in your lap. You freeze. “Oh my god.”

“He likes you,” Jinu murmurs, strangely proud. You release a slow smile as you feel the tiger purr while you scratch behind its ear. “It’s cute.”

Jinu releases a fond smile. The spirits have been impatient as of late, wondering when they’d finally get to meet you. He was worried you’d be scared at first. But as always, you tend to surpass his expectations. 

“You had this big guy as your companion for years and you never show him to me?!” 

“I was afraid you’d be too scared-”

“Scared? Look at him! He’s a little derpy guy- wait, I think I’ll call him that. Derpy.”

“Actually its name is-”

“Derpy! You like that huh?” You coo at the tiger, booping its nose. The tiger rubs his head on your shoulder. Jinu sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. He can’t win. Of all the names… “Haaaa well… I guess your name is Derpy now…” 

Before you, a bird in a hat lands on Derpy’s head. You stare. Its one eye narrows at you, and you almost squeal as two more appear underneath it. You look to Jinu, unsure, and he smiles in encouragement. 

“Does he… sing?”

“No, but he judges.”

The bird tilts its head and lets out a croaky caw. Then it hops onto your shoulder.

“She’s more affectionate with your freaks than she is with us,” Seoha grumbles nearby, arms crossed.

“She warmed up fast,” Haneul mutters. “If only she kissed me that easily.” he says, watching you kiss Derpy’s head multiple times in a row.

“I’ll kiss you never,” you shoot back.

He smirks. “So, later, then?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. The day continues like that—soft bickering, stolen glances, hands brushing against yours when they pass you a drink, touches that linger just a little too long. Derpy and the bird roam free in the apartment now. Perching on shelves and sleeping in the living room. 

Seoha pulls you aside after lunch, guiding your hand to his chest. “Feel that?” His heart races. “You do that to me.”

You roll your eyes. “You always act like you’re one heartbeat away from writing a death poem.” He grins, teeth sharp, eyes soft. “And you always act like you don’t love it.”

You open your mouth to sass him again, but he leans in, voice brushing your ear. “If I’m dramatic, it’s because loving you feels like a scandal.” His breath fans your skin. “Loud, forbidden… and everyone wants to watch.”

You scoff. “Please. The only scandal here is your ego.”

He smirks—and then swoops in, arms curling around your waist as he litters kisses down your neck, making you squeal and squirm in his hold.

The boys shuffle into the living room, smirking like a pack of troublemakers. Seoha yanks you onto the couch and drapes himself over your lap like a spoiled cat, while Baby flicks through movie titles with deadly focus.

“Seoha, move,” Hwi grumbles. “She’s not a chair.”

“She’s mine,” Seoha mutters, refusing to budge. “And I happen to like being supported emotionally and physically.”

“I’ll support you with my foot,” Baby snaps, flinging a pillow at his head.

Just then, Haneul walks in from the kitchen, balancing three massive bowls of popcorn in his arms like a seasoned soldier. He hands one to you with a kiss to your cheek. “Some popcorn for my little soda pop.”

You wince. “You just shattered the dreams of millions of fans.”

He grins. “Good. Let ‘em cry.”

You’re silent for a moment as the boys get comfortable. A sudden thought enters your head and your hands fidget in your lap, eyes lowered like you’ve just committed a capital crime.

“I…” you whisper, biting your lip dramatically.

Five heads snap in your direction. Seoha straightens so fast, his legs retracting from your lap as he nearly falls off the armrest. “Whats wrong, baby?” 

Hwi perks up by your feet like a cat who heard a thunderclap. “Are you hurt?”

Haneul’s already beside you, crouched low, scanning your body for wounds. “Why are you acting like that? What happened? Tell me.”

Jinu bursts out of the kitchen with a drink in hand like he sprinted an Olympic lap. “Drink this. What’s going on?”

Baby’s the last to speak, voice tight with dread. “If someone made you scared, give me a name. Now.”

You press your lips together and swallow, glancing away. “It’s… pretty serious.”

The room freezes. Seoha’s jaw clenches. “You’re scaring me.”

“She’s scaring me,” Hwi whispers, eyes wide.

“I can fix it,” Haneul says, kneeling beside you. “Whatever it is. Just say the word.”

“I…” You inhale slowly, dramatically. 

“I… don’t drink soda pop.”

Silence.

Complete.

Utter.

Silence.

Jinu blinks. “What?”

Seoha releases a breath of relief. Hwi stares at you in disbelief. Haneul’s shoulders sag, a weight off his shoulders. And Baby… is glaring at you.

You look at them sheepishly. “I… I don’t drink soda…”

Seoha releases a breathy laugh. “I was ready to curse an entire bloodline,” 

“I already drafted a revenge plan for your tears,” Baby says flatly. “Color-coded.”

“What?!” You giggle at their reactions and the expressions on their faces. “Sorry- I-”

Jinu exhales, setting the untouched drink down with eerie calm. “You think this is funny?”

“I mean… yes?” you grin. “A little?”

He smiles. Too gently. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Before you can react, a hand grabs your wrist—Seoha pulling you onto his lap with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Time for consequences.”

Oh shit. “I was just—!”

Haneul’s breath brushes your ear. “That lip bite earlier? You wanna play nervous, sweetheart? I’ll give you a reason to tremble.”

Hwi climbs behind you like a shadow, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Make the scared face again. I liked that.”

“Hey, hold on—”

“You like teasing us?” Baby’s voice is low, sharp. “Then take responsibility.”

Jinu sinks to his knees before you, pulling your legs apart slightly to settle between them. “You want attention? You’ve got all of it now.”

Your breath hitches. Seoha kisses the side of your neck, whispering like sin, “Say sorry.”

“I…”

Hwi’s teeth graze your shoulder. “Louder, pretty girl.”

You shudder. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm.” Baby smirks. “Not sorry enough.”

Your teasing grin is long gone. Your flushed face? Still very much here. Your breath comes in sharp, shallow bursts. Their hands aren’t even really touching you—just fingertips, just breath, just barely brushing your skin—but your body is screaming for more. Heat pools low in your belly as they surround you like wolves, like they can taste the way you ache.

Seoha whispers against your jaw, “You like being toyed with, don’t you?”

Jinu hums against your inner thigh— infuriatingly untouched. “All that fuss for a little joke? You wanted our attention. This is what it feels like, love.”

“Now she’s quiet,” Baby murmurs, fingers tilting your chin up. “Where’d all that teasing go, little pop?”

You can’t answer. Your mouth opens. Closes. Nothing but a whimper. But just when you think you’ll snap, just when your legs tremble and the coil inside you threatens to unravel—

They all pull back. Hands gone. Heat vanished.

Seoha grins and stretches like he just got up from a nap. “Ah. Perfect. Let’s watch that movie.”

You blink. “What?”

Jinu flops onto the couch, remote already in hand. “You wanted popcorn and a film, didn’t you?”

“I—wait—what?”

“Shh.” Baby’s finger presses to your lips with a wicked smile. “Movie’s starting, sweetheart.”

Hwi pulls you closer onto the couch between them like nothing happened, wrapping you up in his arms while your heart still pounds like thunder. Seoha kisses your forehead like a reward, lips lingering just enough to remind you of everything you didn’t get. 

And then slowly, he whispers. “No soda pop for you then.”

Your thighs squeeze together. Your eyes burn holes into the screen. None of them say a word. But all of them know. And they’re smiling.

The movie plays. You try to focus. You really do. But your skin still tingles—memory replaying on a loop like a glitching reel. The way their hands barely touched you. The way they didn’t kiss you, or pull your clothes off, or devour you whole—but could have. And you would’ve let them. 

That realization sits warm and sharp in your chest. If they hadn’t stopped… if they’d kept going… You would’ve gone with it. You wanted to.

Your thighs press together as heat surges again, traitorous and low. You shift slightly on the couch, only for Baby to pull you back against him without a word—tucked between his legs, your back to his chest, his arms coiled possessively around your waist like a seatbelt you didn’t ask for.

You sigh softly. Maybe you did ask for it. In your own way. His breath brushes your ear. You pretend not to shiver. The screen flashes with explosions, dramatic music rising.

You don’t notice the glances. Not at first. The soothing lull of Baby’s warmth and breathing relaxes you through the movie, causing you to briefly close your eyes for a little rest. The plot wasn’t all that interesting…

Jinu. Hwi. Haneul. Even Seoha over his shoulder from the kitchen (where he’d gone to start preparing dinner)—stealing peeks at you between scenes.

Because somewhere during the movie, your skirt inched higher. And your panties—lace-trimmed and sinfully soft—peek just under the hem. You’re oblivious, shifting sleepily, too flustered by your own thoughts. But the boys? They’re practically feral.

Hwi’s whisper is half-growl: “So… we’ve been staring at her bum for 30 minutes now…”

“Thirty-five,” Haneul mutters darkly.

“Perverts!” Seoha calls from the kitchen, though his voice is far too amused.

“I’m not looking,” Jinu says without turning away. “I’m studying.”

“You’re the worst one,” Hwi replies.

Eventually, the credits roll. Jinu and Seoha disappear into the kitchen with the clatter of pots and sizzling pans. The smell of spice and garlic fills the air. But Baby doesn’t move. Neither do you. You’ve fallen asleep like that—warm, safe, curled up in his arms.

Hwi leans down and pokes your calf. “Dinner.”

Baby growls. Not even looking at him.

“She has to eat,” Haneul tries.

Baby just tightens his grip.

“She’s hibernating in your lap, not dying,” Seoha calls over his shoulder.

Still—no dice. You finally blink awake, lips parted, dazed. And Baby’s face is the first thing you see. Eyes dark. Expression unreadable. 

He utters, voice low, but eyes solely trained on your face. Piercing. “Dinner’s ready.”

You nod slowly, but something in his gaze pins you down harder than his arms. There’s heat there. You swallow hard. “Okay.”

But you don’t move right away. And neither does he. Because even now—after all their teasing, all your games—he looks at you like he’s still starving. And this time?

You’re not sure you want him to stop.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Dinner is loud, as usual. They’re all gathered at the table—Haneul loading your plate without asking, Hwi curled at your side again like a cat waiting for scraps, Seoha arguing with Jinu about spice levels, and Baby quietly stealing bites from your plate like it belongs to him.

You’re halfway through chewing a piece of tteok-bokki when Jinu sets his chopsticks down. “We should move you to your room tonight.”

You blink. “My room?”

He nods. “The one we made for you. Next to ours.”

“We thought you’d want space,” Seoha says, brushing a thumb along your wrist. “But... it’s yours. It always was.”

Hwi’s voice is soft. “It’s closer. Safer.”

“More comfortable,” Haneul adds quickly, gaze unreadable.

“More ours,” Baby finishes, not looking away from you.

You chew slowly, the bite suddenly hard to swallow. Your heart thuds in your chest, soft and fast. They want you near. Not just sleeping in a guest room anymore. Not just a visitor in their apartment. This isn’t about logistics. It’s about belonging.

You glance at each of them—their expectant eyes, the way they lean in slightly like they’re scared you’ll say no.

And for a second, you wonder: Am I ready? To sleep so close to them? To share space. Trust. Intimacy. To accept what you already feel growing between you and these demons who have haunted your soul across centuries? The answer comes quietly.

Yes.

Because they love you. They love you like fire, like gravity, like fate. And you—you're starting to love them too.

“Okay,” you say.

The reaction is immediate. Hwi perks up like a puppy. Haneul grins, wild and bright. Jinu exhales like he’s been holding his breath since the war. Seoha smirks like he already knew. And Baby—Baby’s hand finds yours under the table and squeezes so tight it almost hurts.

They don’t wait. Dinner finishes in a blur, and before you know it, Baby is tugging you gently by the hand, leading you down the hallway. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks over his shoulder at you like he’s afraid this is a dream.

He opens the door. And you gasp. The room is… yours. But also, theirs.

The walls are a soft, warm gray with rich jewel-toned accents. There’s a massive window with gauzy curtains that let in moonlight, and on the far wall: a mural. A hand-painted scene of a mountaintop at dusk, a crescent moon hanging low over a silver lake.

Bookshelves line one wall—half empty, half filled with things they know you love. Notebooks. Art supplies. A sketch of you in a previous life curled up with a tiger. A pressed flower under glass. A faded drawing in childlike lines of a fox with wide, soft eyes.

The bed is huge. Obscenely so. More like a nest than a piece of furniture—draped in plush throws and layered blankets in varying textures. You spot a velvet pillow shaped like a moon, and a silky scarf you once lost… here now, tucked neatly on the edge like it never left.

A soft woven tapestry hangs above the headboard: the symbol of the Saja. Your fingers hover over it.

“They helped,” Baby murmurs. “All of us.” He points. The desk—minimal and clean, with a small crystal inlaid in the center. A moonstone. That was Jinu’s.

The warm-toned blanket with rough stitching? That’s from Haneul. It looks handmade. Because it is.

The incense burner shaped like a curled fox? Hwimori’s, of course. It smells faintly like the pine forests of a memory you can’t quite place.

And the mirror beside the wardrobe—an antique, silver-framed piece that glows softly under the light—was picked by Seoha. He left a note stuck in the corner:

So you can admire the most dangerous creature in this house.

You touch the edge of the bed. It feels like home. “I… don’t know what to say,” you whisper. 

Baby leans against the wall, watching you. His voice is low. “You don’t have to say anything. Just stay.”

A soft smile ghosts your lips and the five demons look at you with so much love, awe, and wonder. You loved your room. It had little pieces of them and everything you were to them through all your lives. It felt like you had finally come home. 

“Okay.” You breathe, looking up at their hopeful gazes. “I’ll move in tonight.”

Jinu smiled bright. “You- you like it?”  His eyes widen when your arms drape around his shoulders, like he doesn’t believe you're real.

“I love it,” you say again, softer this time. “It’s got bits and pieces of all of you.”

His breath hitches. For a moment, he doesn't move. Then—slowly, carefully—he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you like you’re fragile silk. His forehead presses to yours. “We waited,” he whispers. “Through everything. Every life. Every mistake. Every death.”

You smile, close, so close. And then you kiss his cheek. It’s light. Soft. Barely a brush of your lips. But Jinu goes still like he’s been struck by lightning. “Oh,” he exhales, voice wrecked.

The next second, he’s not the only one holding you. Hwimori curls against your side, hands wrapped tight around your waist, burying his nose in your neck. “She kissed him,” he breathes. “I want one too.”

Haneul’s hand lifts your wrist and he kisses your palm, then each fingertip with slow, deliberate presses of his mouth. “You like pieces of us, angel?” he murmurs. “I want you to have every piece. Every part.”

Seoha appears at your other side, tilting your chin gently with two fingers. “You shouldn’t say things like that, my love,” he purrs. “We might get addicted to hearing them.” He kisses your temple. Then your jaw. Then your nose, with a grin. “Let’s call it a blessing.”

“Or a curse,” Baby mutters—but he’s already pressing a kiss to the top of your head, arms locking around you from behind. “Don’t care. She’s home now.”

The air shifts. Warmer. Tighter. You’re cradled between them all—arms, hands, mouths pressing into every inch of bare skin they can reach without overwhelming you. Their touches aren’t frantic or rushed. It’s worshipful. Steady. Like this is something sacred.

Because it is. Because you said yes. You said home. You whisper, “I didn’t know I could feel like this.”

Seoha hums. “Safe?”

“No,” you say. “Wanted.”

That stops them. Jinu is the first to speak, voice low and hoarse. “You’re not wanted, sweetheart.”

You blink. He smiles against your cheek. “You’re everything.”

That warms your heart in more ways than one. You smile brightly. “Well, I’ll need a bit of help moving my stuff-”

“Say no more, baby. We’ll grab your things now.” Haneul beams. They shuffle out of the room, eager to get you settled as fast as they can. 

Baby stays, arms wrapped around you from behind with his eyes closed. Like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You look at him and smile slightly. “Your room’s near, right?”

He nods. “Across the hall.”

“Can I see it?”

He pauses then pushes off you and gestures for you to follow. You walk into the darkened hallway, still holding his hand. And when he opens the door to his room— The air changes.

Baby's room is a hush of shadow and memory. The air hangs thick with sandalwood and something older, bitter, like scorched ink. No clutter. No warmth. Just walls steeped in silence. The kind of silence that feels alive.

The bed is enormous, like yours, but colder somehow. Sheets the color of bruises. Pillows perfectly in place. No folds. No softness. Not even a book by the bedside. It feels like a tomb. But it has pieces of you in it.

You step inside and the temperature shifts. This isn’t a bedroom. It’s a reliquary. A war memorial. A shrine.

Your gaze falls to a drawing mounted in a blackwood frame. You.

Rendered in harsh, reverent strokes. Hair pinned in the style of old court, gaze lowered in modesty. Regal. Fragile. Distant. You walk toward it. "Did you draw this?"

"Etched it," Baby replies from behind you. "With a blade."

You turn slowly. He’s still by the door, like coming in too far would break something. "After you died," he adds, voice flat.

There’s a long pause. Your eyes catch on something else—a lacquered box beneath the portrait. A ceremonial sword cracked down the middle. A ribbon, blood-stiffened and sealed in glass. And half-tucked under silk: a golden hairpin.

You reach for it.

"Don’t touch that." The words are quiet. But sharp enough to slice bone. He’s in front of you before you blink. His hand wraps around your wrist, not hurting, not tight. But trembling. He lets go like your skin scalded him.

"She wore that," he murmurs. "You wore that. The day you were taken from me."

You don’t speak. The air feels thick. Sacred. Your trembling hands brush his cheek and he leans into it like a flower to the sun.

"Tell me," you say.

He exhales and hesitates. Eyes pained. 

“Tell me. Please."

He looks at you like you’re a ghost. A sharp inhale, and then he begins. 

"I was the Emperor’s blade," he says, each word carefully unsheathed. "Born to a house that trained ghosts into men. I was a child when they first made me kneel in blood. By thirteen, they called me the Ash Blade."

He looks up. Eyes distant. "I executed ministers before I knew how to write my own name. I watched heads roll and learned silence was safety."

You sit down on the bed, legs tucked beneath you. He stays standing, hands clenched at his sides. "And then you came."

You lift your head. "The concubine from the South. Sent to seal a war with a smile. Everyone called you fragile. An ornament. A prize. But you weren’t. You had teeth. You saw everything." His voice cracks. "You saw me."

The silence between you is deafening. "You bowed to him," he whispers. "...The Emperor,” He spits the words out like poison in his mouth. “But you smiled at me. A smile you never gave him. Not once." 

His hand hovers near his chest, like the memory of it still hurts. "I never knew how to want. They trained it out of me. But then I needed you. And I didn’t even know what to call it."

You stand. "You called it love." His head tilts toward you like the word itself is too heavy to hold.

"They whispered we touched," he murmurs. "That you were carrying a traitor’s child. The Emperor grew distant. Then cold. Then...”

His voice drops. "He asked me to prove my loyalty."

You already know. But you need to hear it. "How?"

He looks you in the eye. "He ordered me to kill you."

Your stomach lurches.

"I told him no."

A breath. The world trembles.

"The first time I disobeyed... was for you."

You press your hand to your mouth.

"He called you defiled. He pulled the sword himself. I didn’t have time to react. You were reaching for me—"

He falls to his knees. "I held you. I pressed on the wound. I begged you to stay. You... you said my name. Not his."

Tears sting your eyes. Baby, the Ash Blade. The demon who was always first to ruin anything that dared to speak or touch you, was kneeling before you like a blade shattered. Broken. He choked on his next words: "I was soaked in your blood. The guards came. They thought I was trying to finish you. I killed them all. Every last one."

He looks up at you, hollow. "I carried you to the inner sanctum. The palace was burning. I laid you down and waited for the flames to take me. But they didn’t."

You kneel in front of him. "I made a deal that night," he whispers. "To never forget your voice. To find you again, no matter the cost." His breath shakes. "They told me I was cursed. Born to follow. Born to obey. And for years I did. I killed for kings. Slept in blood. Wore silence like a second skin. But the moment you smiled at me… I knew." His voice cracks. "I knew I would burn it all. And I did. For you."

Your lip trembles as he continues, eyes never leaving yours. "You were meant to be a pawn. A gift to the king. But you looked at me like I was more than a sword. You called me… human. That was my undoing." He clenches his fist. "You died calling my name. And I—" he swallows the words like poison. "I couldn’t save you."

His shoulders quake. "They said you were spoiled. That a shadow like me defiled something meant to be pure. The Emperor… he was the last one I killed. Not for revenge. But for taking you from me."

The silence pulses between you. Then— His hand moves. Slowly. His fingers graze the side of your neck… and wrap around your throat. Not tight. But firm. Possessive. He pulls you in until your lips are just a breath apart. His eyes shine crimson—wet with grief, wild with hunger.

"You’re mine," he breathes, voice shaking. "Do you hear me? You were always mine. From the moment I first saw you. You are not fate’s. You are not the king’s. You’re mine." A tear slips from his cheek and lands on yours. "I don’t trust this world. I don’t trust time. I don’t trust anything that isn’t my hands on your skin."

You gasp, body trembling as his other arm snakes around your waist, crushing you to him. "I won’t lose you again. I’d kill every god who tries to take you. I’ll tear this world to ash. I’ll carve out a future with your name on it and slit the throat of anything that threatens it."

"Baby…"

His breath catches.

“I’m not… that,” he murmurs. “My name… the one you called out before you left me… it was Seungho.”

It hits like thunder in your chest. Something sacred. Ancient. Yours. “Seungho,” you whisper.

The name tears through centuries. And he breaks. His breath catches—like he’s been punched in the lungs by time itself. His hand tightens around your throat—not to hurt, but to hold, to claim, to anchor himself in the moment he never believed he'd get. The moment the past bends, and fate surrenders. You grip his wrist, your pulse thudding beneath his fingers.

“Say it again,” he breathes. It’s not a plea. It’s a command stitched in agony. His voice trembles like he’s shaking loose from death itself.

“Seungho,” you whisper again, softer this time.

And that’s all it takes. A guttural sound rips from his throat—half-sob, half-snarl. His forehead falls against yours, breath shaking, teeth bared like a starving animal who’s finally found what he lost. He doesn’t ask if you’re his. You are. You always were.

He growls, low and dangerous, voice coiling like smoke against your ear. “You said my name. And now the world can burn. I don’t care. I don’t care about gods or rules or whatever fucking fate tried to take you from me. Say it again, and I swear I’ll never let you go. Not even in death.”

Your breath hitches. Your chest heaves. “I remember you,” you whisper. “And I’m not letting go either.”

Then he kisses you. Not soft. Not slow. Not careful. It’s carnage. It’s ruin wrapped in silk, obsession carved into the shape of a mouth. He devours you like you’re a secret he’s kept for centuries. Like every kiss is a scream of defiance against the world that took you from him. His lips bruise, worship, burn.

His hand cradles your throat like it’s his only possession. His other wrapped around your back, dragging you into him, into the storm, into the part of him that never stopped bleeding. “You said my name,” he murmurs again between kisses, like he can’t stop saying it now that it’s real. “You saw me. You chose me. You’re here.”

You nod, lips trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’ve always been yours.”

He groans—like that vow split something inside him wide open. He bites your ear. Kisses down your jaw. “You are mine. You belong in my arms. In my bed. In my eternity. Mine to worship. Mine to break. Mine to protect until the stars die.”

He presses you to his chest, heart pounding so violently you feel it against your ribs. You don’t fall. Not this time. Because he never let go. And he never will. Not again.

Not Seungho. Not the boy raised to kill— But the demon who was reborn just to love you.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You and Seungho stay there, folded into each other like the aftermath of a storm. The quiet between you is thick with heat and memory. His fingers never leave your skin—tracing your spine, your throat, your face, like he’s memorizing you all over again. His lips press to your temple, your cheekbone, the corner of your mouth. Again and again.

Like prayer. Like penance. Like addiction. You whisper his name once more. "Seungho."

His breath catches. His lashes flutter against your skin. And though his hands still tremble, his heart begins to steady. You kiss once more—slower this time, but no less desperate. Then another. And another. Until finally… he exhales, forehead resting against yours. “I’m okay now,” he murmurs. “Let’s go back.”

You nod. He intertwines your fingers with his and leads you back to your room. But the moment the door opens—You freeze.

They’re waiting. The others.

Jinu. Seoha. Haneul. Hwimori.

All four of them—spread across your bed, your window ledge, the curve of your couch. Shadows drape their forms like cloaks, but there’s no hiding the glow of their eyes. Amber. Gold. Molten. Unholy. Their gazes hit you like fire. Not angry. Not jealous. Just… hungry.

No words are spoken. Because they felt it. The shift. The moment your bond with Seungho deepened. That sacred pull, tugging taut through the thread that links you all. The soulbond—fuller now. Almost complete. You’re radiant. Alive. Glowing like something divine.

And they are starving.

Their gazes trail your body like it’s wrapped in silk and sin. Like they could tear it open just to drink what’s inside. Jinu’s jaw tightens. Seoha’s smile is too sharp. Haneul’s fingers twitch like they’re resisting the urge to grab. Hwimori tilts his head, his pupils blown wide, mouth parted in a soft, animalistic sound that borders on a purr.

Seungho releases your hand. He steps back like offering you up. Or daring them. “She’s here,” he says softly. And it’s the end of restraint.

Jinu rises first, slow and deliberate, like a beast uncoiling from a throne. He walks toward you with a look that makes your knees weak—like he’s waited too long, suffered too much. His voice, when he speaks, is low and reverent.

“Our girl.”

The room seems to pulse around you. The bond sings. A note of desire so thick you could drown in it. Seoha grins lazily, eyes burning. “Don’t run now. You won’t make it far.”

“Wouldn’t want to,” you whisper.

Hwimori is beside you in seconds, arms circling your waist from behind, his breath hot on your neck. “You feel it too, don’t you? It’s almost done. Almost whole. We’re almost one.”

You nod, dazed, body humming with the truth of it. Haneul’s knuckles brush your jaw, lifting your face to meet his. His voice is a promise—and a threat. “We’ve been patient.”

Jinu leans in, lips grazing your ear. “No more waiting.”

They crowd closer. No touches yet. Just heat. Just intention. But it’s enough to set you ablaze. You don’t know who moans first—you or one of them. But it echoes. And you realize—

You’re surrounded by five demons. And all of them are about to lose control.

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: Mwahahahaha!! I think you all know what comes next. ;) I wanted to make Baby's backstory tragic. It fits best with how his character is with you and why he is the way he is. For his name, I decided on Seungho. Seung- “to bear, to inherit” + Ho -“vast, grand, overwhelming” I think it fits best because it reflects someone who carries deep burdens (like obedience, guilt, love). "Seungho" also sounds noble, quiet, and heavy with legacy—just like him, and I think it's perfect for a man who inherited centuries of silence and finally broke for love.

Let me know if you guys enjoyed this chapter! Next one is going to be spicy but it might take a bit more time to write as I don't usually write a lot of smut. I need time to etch the line between love and filth (lol). But thank you for reading as always! Comment, Reblog, and Like if you enjoyed it - I love seeing what you guys think!

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Taglist: @spiderset @sra7riddle-malfoy @starlight100 @storyteller-le @strayharmony943 @sunoosmainchick @tenaciouskittenpuff @the-sweet-psycho @tommyinnit-kinnie @udejoenrlddo @unadulteratedwizardrunaway @unsolicitedopal @venommie @vi1326 @vita-nire @vixyvlo @weponxwrites @wpdarlingpan @yandereaficionado @yepitsmesendhelp @your-favorite-god @yumekono @zuhaeri @misdollface @mitsuakashi @mjustag1rl @moonlight-rosevine @mossy-luna @mshope16 @natllo @nesrynsblog @neuvilletteswife4ever @nonetheartist @perfectlywingedflower @permanently-tired-pigeon @pleasantlyspookycreation @pookiei-bookie @poptrim @procookie2007 @qmabailor @quantumorquanta @raineandcl0uds @realifezompire @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @saltedcoffeescotch @sarah22447 @scaranao @shadowlover321 @shadyplaidwagonmuffin @shinebright2000 @sin-for-jin @sleepyamaya @slutforsmut4ever @sollum @soy-soi-si @gwinamlvr @h3110-dar1in9 @hi-itsmee28 @himikoquack @hornehlittleweeblet2 @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @imjusthereforthecake56 @insane-scientist @insomniacfigure @invinciblewaffles @irethepotato @iv-vee @izzieg3987 @jamaicanqueen007 @jamerlynn @justanerd1 @lavnderluv @letsmakethingsclear-ididntask @levifiance @limerenceisserenity @littlemissfix-itfic @littlepotaaatosimp @loomindoors @lovely-maryj @lovely-tulipp @lovelymelon @luxylucylou @maniacalism @meeeegaaan @mel3484 @meridian-of-misery @miffysoo @airwolf92 @akira-yan @aleclockwood @amercanfailure @animal-and-flower-lover @anisimp @anonymousewrites @apelepikozume @arieslucy @ateezswonderland @athena-portgas @atl4ntxc @badbishsblog @bearb33 @beppybeesnuggets @bloobewy @booknerd2004 @candylandrules @casperleghosty @chirikoheina @chugjugg @cloudfxvrs @cottonheadedninnymugggins @crustypatatos @dragongirl642 @eggosside @enerofairy @ezri261 @faerie-soirxx @fanficriter @ffcfffr @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @girlwiththegoats @givecyrustheirflowers

[just-an-anon-reader]

This isn’t dead I swear!! College is just up my ass T^T

The Forgotten Sister

Chapter II

Pairing: Ekko x Fem!Reader

Tags: Minimal use if Y/N, no specific description of the reader, friends to lovers, CW swearing, CW blood, CW injury, CW violence, CW guns, TW death

A/N: This took me forever to figure out how to not make too dialogue dependent 😰

Chapter III

...this is Caitlyn?

You thought to yourself. Watching her glower and glare from her spot on the dirty steel floor. This, even though she was, quite literally, free. Free from both the dirty rag bag over her head and the rusty but well-oiled cuffs that would have kept her hands behind her back. She continued, saying something that, paired with her low tone and your lack of focus, you missed. After all, rather than listening to an untrustworthy Piltie enforcer prattle on about heroics, your attention shifted to the subtle movement from the corner of your eye instead. Vi, who opted to lean against the wall just far enough to stay hidden from view while being within earshot, had the most shit-eating grin on her face. She slapped a hand over her face as she tried to stifle the silent giggles that shook her shoulders violently.

"...it's me you want," you catch Caitlyn say as Vi, as if on cue, finally steps into view. Leaning against the door frame with the same shit-eating grin as before.

"My hero~" Vi swoons playfully.

Caitlyn stutters and stammers, flustered and exasperated but relieved all the same. You would have found the banter between them funny, adorable even, except for the fact that your brain couldn't wrap around the fact that your sister...Vi!...had fallen in with a Piltie. And, to add salt to the wound, said blue-haired Piltie, also happened to be an enforcer! It left a funky aftertaste on your tongue just thinking about it.

"Vi says we can trust you," Ekko interjects, eyes hard and icy as he glares at the woman still seated on the floor.

"You get a pass back topside, that's it. Let's go,"

Ekko stands up from his spot on the door's edge and nods at you, then at Vi, before maneuvering between you and moving back towards the tree. You look towards Caitlyn, letting your eyes roam over her features. You study how her shoulders tensed, her breathing slowed, her eyes twitched, and even how her brows knitted in the middle of her forehead. No blatant deception...at least, not yet. With a huff, you turn to hobble after Ekko.

"Who are you!? " Caitlyn asks, her voice bouncing off the steel wall of the makeshift prison, vibrating and echoing.

You stop, slowly turning slightly. The sun shining against you, casting a shadow of your side profile on the floor, you say, almost in a whisper, "Ironic, isn't it? The same group your people have been hunting for for years now welcomes you into their hideout. You'd be black and blue if the other Firelights had their way. But you got to my sister first. Our leader trusts her more than you..."

Slowly, you shuffle your way toward Ekko, who waits with his hand outstretched, ready to catch you should your knee buckle and you stumble. You smile at him, gently...lovingly, sliding your own into his, letting him guide you to stand beside him. The two other girls moved slowly towards you. Vi kept pace with Caitlyn as she took in her surroundings with awe and wonder. It's not an unusual reaction, but one that is more than welcomed. Everyone who ever stepped foot in the hideout for the first time always had the same look of amazement plastered on their faces. And every time, it never failed to make you proud. Knowing that seven long years of pain, effort, and hard work had paid off with each "woah" that would leave their jaw-dropped mouths.

"It's beautiful..."

"If your people had their way, it'd be a pile of rubble and ash..." Ekko says bitterly.

Your hand gently squeezes his, trying to keep him calm, as the words falling from Caitlyn's lips fuel his anger. Tension begins to rise as he squares his shoulders in rage. But your touch does little to stifle Ekko's furry at Caitlyn's next words.

"That's not possible...you're wrong."

Ekko pulls away from you, marching towards the taller blue-haired woman before him. Ready to butt heads and let fists fly at the sheer bullshit of her words. You try to call his name, but it falls on deaf ears.

"You say that one more time..."

Heat builds as both sides stand their ground. Each glaring at the other before Vi finally steps in between them. Pushing the two a few spaces away from one another. Quickly, you take hold of Ekko by his elbow, pulling him closer towards you. Increasing the distance between the two hot heads. You'd rather avoid a full-on brawl if you can. Being on the ground doesn't allow easy access to a med kit from the infirmary on the third floor of the tree. Looking towards you, Vi sighs your name before turning to Ekko and doing the same. Calling his attention

"Guys...she believes in what she's saying, okay? She's not your enemy," Vi says defensively.

"Oh, yeah?" Ekko scoffs, "Then what's this?"

From the glass canister hanging on his waist by the sling over his shoulder, he pulled out a beautiful blue orb no bigger than the average marble. It was strange-looking, yet it felt ethereal. It glowed this beautiful hue of blue as streaks of glittering lights swirled within like a galaxy of stars. You've never seen the likes of it before, never even heard of it. And, judging by the expression on Ekko's face, neither has he. Shuffling closer, you press against his back as you peer over his shoulder with curious eyes. Watching, mesmerized as the orb shimmered where the sun's rays would refract from its smooth, round surface as Ekko rolled it between his gloved fingertips. However, you were roughly jostled out of your reverie as Ekko recoiled, almost accidentally elbowing you in the process, from something Caitly said that you failed to catch.

"What is it?" you and your sister ask in unison, albeit with varying tones and intentions. While yours was asked more out of curiosity, Vi was her usual aggressive self. Almost angrily demanding an explanation.

"It's a gemstone...it was stolen during the attack...by your sister," Caitlyn explains delicately. Quite hesitantly. An understandable approach, considering Vi's very pissed-off rebuke.

"You just forgot to mention that?!"

Jinx...

That was twice now that you've heard of her in one day. And from two separate people from two opposing ends. Something big had to be happening. You hadn't the slightest idea what, but with her, it could be anything. And anything with Jinx was always spelled with trouble...the messy kind of trouble.

"With this, someone with the right knowledge could build any hextech device," Caitlyn continues, "If the enforcers are becoming more aggressive...that's why,"

...hextech...

If this small stone is the key to building hextech, it may be your ticket to saving lives. Saving the hideout, the Lanes, Zaun! If Ekko could find a way to manipulate it, use it...

...we could beat Silco with this...

You thought to yourself...or at least...you thought that you did. Apparently not, though, as all faces turn to you. Ekko, especially, nodded in agreement. Apparently, you said that out loud and maybe a bit too loud.

"That won't solve things," Caitlyn replies to you somberly.

"That's easy for you to say..." You grumble, "You aren't the one with blood on your hands...watching it drip down your fingers as people you promised you'd save die all around you!"

"Look, it's wrong what's been done to you..." Caitlyn says, "You'd be within your rights to keep it. I couldn't blame you. But...if you do, this cycle of violence will never stop."

She speaks of "setting the record straight", Zaun needing "healing", and how she just so happens to have a friend on the council who would "listen". The same sob stories you'd heard before. The same exact words that people would throw around like a ball in a game of catch. Toying with you, who worked hard to make these words a reality. The only difference now was the leverage Ekko held in his fingertips. The gemstone...hextech...maybe...just maybe...they'll finally listen. They'll finally see reason, the truth, and put a stop to all the shit that Zaun and its people were left to deal with on their own. Beside you, you catch Ekko giving you a sideways glance. A familiar expression, one that you have come to know very well. He's made up his mind.

"One condition. I'm the one who gives it to them," He says resolutely.

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed chapter 2!!

@silas-222, @scarletrosesposts, @f1nnfyuu, @rinisfruity14, @vicurious28, @thebiggestsimpoutthere, @miharuki, @mirophobic, @sundaybossanova

[just-an-anon-reader]

Do you have a tag list for 'the forgotten sister'?? Can I be added?

To everyone who thought that "The Forgotten Sister" was interesting enough to get tagged in, thank you so much 🥹!!

I'll gladly tag you all for the rest of the series! So, see you in chapter III 😁

[just-an-anon-reader]

Thank you so much!! I'm so glad you enjoyed it 😭

The Forgotten Sister

Chapter I

Pairing: Ekko x Fem!Reader

Tags: Minimal use of Y/N, no specific description of the reader, friends to lovers, CW swearing, CW blood, CW injury, CW violence, CW guns, TW death

A/N: I might have gotten carried away with how long this got…

Chapter II

"I missed you too..."

Feeling your sobs begin to calm and your eyes begin to puff from all the tears that cascaded down your cheeks, you gingerly take a small step back without entirely leaving your sister's embrace. Just enough to finally get a proper look at the face that changed with time. Vi was undoubtedly no longer the girl you remember looking up to as a child. The soft roundness of her cheeks that came with childhood was now replaced by sharp, hard lines with scars in places that weren't there before. And yet, despite the changes brought about by years apart, Vi looked... young. Like she hadn't lived with the chaos that covered Zaun like a blanket. Like she hadn't seen the death and destruction that followed as Silco flooded the Lanes with his damn shimmer.

"Where have you been all these years?" you ask, voice still trembling with emotion as your thumb traces over the tattoo on her cheekbone.

"I was... I was in Stillwater... But that doesn't matter! All that matters is that I'm here now." Vi says, head tilting lovingly into your touch.

"You were in Stillwater? All this time? Why?! H-how did you get out?"

"... someone... got me out,"

"It's the enforcer, isn't it?" Ekko says suddenly.

Having stood quietly from the side and letting you two sisters have your moment, a reunion long since overdue. Having watched with a soft chuckle as you bawled your eyes out and wet snot dripped down your chin. But now he stood with his stance firm and stiff. Arms crossed against his chest as the steel mask of a leader clicked into place on his handsome face.

"...an enforcer?" You gasp, involuntarily stepping away from your sister's embrace.

Your body physically recoiled from Vi, like her touch shimmered itself. Vi whispers your name, hurt flashing across her face at your visceral reaction.

But she didn't understand. She didn't know. The blood that painted your hands red and the disgusting sticky feeling that came with it from all the people who bled at your doorstep. People whose lives you so desperately tried to save as they lay dying. Beaten half to death by fucking enforcers. Some of them were sanctioned by Piltover, while others were greedy fuckers with pockets heavy with Silco's coin. And they said fissure folk were the shitty ones.

She doesn't know...

You tried to reason with yourself. But feelings of disgust and betrayal filled you faster than you could stop them. You take another step back, moving in line with Ekko. Gone was the love, replaced by suspicion and mistrust. The man beside you bumps his shoulder against yours, pulling your attention. You look at each other in silent conversation. He tilts his head in a gesture to somewhere, yet nowhere in particular. The movement you follow with a flick of your eyes, immediately knowing the message behind it. An understanding passed between you two confirmed with a nod.

"There's something we gotta show you," Ekko says to Vi before moving to lead the way.

You hobble after him silently, your cane thumping against the wooden floor, ignoring the confusion splayed on Vi's face. Seeing that none of you two were planning to explain anything further, she rushes to follow after. Opting to lag a bit ways behind. Taking in the view around her. A view so different than what you'd usually expect from Zaun. The sun bathed the base with a beautiful, bright glow. Its warmth touching the skin of her cheek as it peaked through the leaves. Children laughed and played, chasing after one another beneath the shade of firelight leaves. People walked and talked about, free from worry and strife. It was beautiful. Amazing what the group has accomplished in seven years. A small hidden reprieve from the chaos of the Lanes.

At the last set of stairs down the tree, steeper and more uneven than the rest, Ekko offers his elbow to you like clockwork. Carefully, you clamber down the steep stairs. Hand gripping tightly onto Ekko's forearm as your weak knee wobbled with every step. Vi rushes to hold onto you, hand about to reach for your other arm, when Ekko stops her with a chuckle.

"She'll smack you if you do that. And besides," he says, eyes looking towards you. Lovingly... longingly. A gaze much unbeknownst to you as you grunted at the feel of uncomfortable pressure straining against your knee at each step.

"She's doing great,"

"Damn right. My knee won't get stronger being babied," you hiss, taking another shaky step down onto the floor.

Finally...

You breathe a sigh of relief at the feeling of solid ground beneath your feet that doesn't quake or buckle at the slightest tremble of your knee.

Ekko really needs to fix these last few steps...

They wobbled too much for your liking. And they creaked in weird places that always made you antsy. Yep, he definitely needs to fix these. The man in question has stopped beside you, arm still outstretched, waiting as you find your bearings.

"You alright?" He whispers.

"Yeah, thank you for being such an excellent handrail." You whisper teasingly, giving his arm a playful pinch before letting go.

Ekko chuckles, shaking his head as he trudges forward a few paces before stopping. You follow, hobbling to a stop beside him. Eyes forward, looking at the slab of wall that makes up a part of the tree. A mural. A place of homage. A reminder of what you've all had to sacrifice.

"This is everyone that we've lost..." Ekko says, his voice somber as he looks at the colorful, familiar faces on the wall. Faces of loved ones, faces of lost ones... lost... but never forgotten.

"The price of our freedom..." you sigh.

"Some of it was enforcers... most was Silco."

Ekko wraps a pinky around yours. For comfort, you reckoned. But you weren't sure if he meant for you or for himself.

"Your sister works for him not because she has to but because she wants to."

Vi looks away. Expression torn, hurt. And your heart ached for her.

"I see you've found Jinx,"

"Her name is Powder... You're her sister! How can you call her that?"

"She hasn't been Powder in a long time, Vi,"

"So? Are you gonna ask me to leave her?! Is that what you did?!”

In a rush of fury, she lunges at you, hands grabbing onto the lapels of your coat, pulling you roughly towards her. Knuckles holding tight as you watched them turn white. Vi locked eyes with yours. A fire blazing hot behind those baby blues. But they did not burn you. Tone, cold as ice, you spit your next words, sharp like a knife. Meant to cut, meant to bleed.

"I... wasn't the one who left."

Vi breathes a heavy sigh like a fire doused with a bucket of cold water. Gently releasing you before stepping away, hiding her face behind the length of her hair. Ekko steps behind you as you stumble, steadying you. Eyes roaming over yours in worry, only calming once you gave him a nod.

You were alright...

"Look, Vi, I don't blame you for being gone. But you were gone for so long... things have changed. We, have changed,"

You step towards her, hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it.

"Besides, we still have that... enforcer... friend of yours."

"Seems like I just keep making you mad today,"

"I remember it being... a unique talent of yours,"

Vi breathes an airy chuckle, turning to face you. Looking at you, like seeing you for the first time. You used to be so small, so frail. Someone she needed to protect. Like Powder... But now, look at you... You still limped, yes, but you stood tall. Eyes sharp, hands strong and steady. And you didn't take shit from anyone. You really grew up without her.

Turning towards Ekko, Vi says, "Her name is Caitlyn. She's after Silco. It's why she got me out in the first place. You can trust her. I promise."

You and Ekko give each other a look. Another silent conversation ensues. He nods, and you nod back.

"Alright, come on," he says before moving forward. You trailing behind him.

You both lead Vi through a tunnel-like vent in the wall, an exhaust pipe opening large enough for people to pass through. There, you find two boys, Mach and Tun, playing around. Pulling at their cheeks, making funny faces, and challenging the other to hold their laugh the longest. The same two boys who were supposed to be watching over the makeshift prison cell.

"Hey! How's our guest?" Ekko says, greeting the boys who squealed in excitement at the sight of him.

They scream his name happily as they run around him in excited circles before jumping towards you, pulling at the hem of your shirt, almost making you stumble.

"She's loud,"

"She shouts a lot,"

The two boys giggle in unison.

"Alright, you two, let's get her outta there," Ekko says, chuckling as the boys give a resounding "Yessir!".

Pulling down their masks, they race for the keys hanging on a hook beside the door. Pushing and shoving each other for it before Tun finally gets a hold of them with a triumphant "Yes!". Slotting the key into the lock, the gears turn and unlock with a click as the door swings open with a loud squeak. Inside, handcuffed to a statue in the center of the room, was a girl with a sack still tied around her head. Her identity may be hidden, but her role is betrayed by the golden edges of her uniform. Hidden by whatever she wore on top, it glinted where the light would hit. Shining despite the darkness of the room.

She grunted as she fought against her restraints, wiggling about and head snapping to the sound of something swinging open somewhere she couldn't see. To Tun's annoyance, Mach successfully grabs the keys from his hands and runs into the room, undoing the cuffs before pulling the sack off her head. Eyes blinking at the sudden glare, her hazy vision lands on the hand in front of her. A hand fully intending to help her up. The moment her eyes cleared, she slaps the offending appendage away. Mach gasps at the impact, moving away towards you and Ekko by the door. The woman's eyes follow the movement. Her sharp eyebrows pinched as her deep blue eyes narrowed, she glared at the two of you with all the anger she could muster.

"What have you done with Vi?"

... this is Caitlyn?

Also, thank you to those who thought chapter 1 was worth reading!!

@silas-222

@scarletrosesposts

[just-an-anon-reader]

Hobie taught em right. If the opponent lanky, the legs are the way to go 🤣

👀🤣 may I request a Christmas fic where one/both the twins see R kissing Santa Claus (but it’s actually Hobie dressed as him) and they start an all out war against Santa? Can’t stop laughing my ass off from this idea

- 😅 (@hyperfix-wip )

Hehehe thank you for the cutest prompt!! I've always wanted to write this trope 😘❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Dad! Hobie, mom! Reader, Billie and Ramona AU, twin AU, cw food mentions, fluff!

Navigation

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Billie wakes up with a start, heart pounding in her ears from the sudden wake up call. “What—?!” Her mouth is covered by a familiar hand, silencing her yell. “Mmhm?!” Eyes wide, she hones in on her twin’s face in the dark of their shared room. Save for the light flooding inside from the cracked open door, and their Spider-Man night light, it's pitch black.

“It's me!” Ramona whisper yells, front tooth still missing after she lost it in the playground. “Someone's downstairs. I think it's him!” Her eyes shine with excitement, curls bobbing up and down as she tries to contain her giddiness.

Billie yanks her sister's hand away, frowning at her from the sudden intrusion. “I was having a good dream, Mon.” Her look reminds Mona of her dad's exact expression when he has to mow the lawn again.

Mona ignores her sister's annoyance, “didn't you hear what I said? Santa's ‘ere! At our house!” She whisper yells again, this time loud enough for whoever's downstairs to pause their movements. Her eyes widened, hands covering her mouth to tamp down her excitement. “We should stay quiet—”

“Santa's ‘ere!” Billie is quieted once again by Mona's hands.

After waiting for a minute, the girls slowly and silently go outside of their room, matching holiday socks softly walking across the polished floorboards. Their pajamas are also on theme, with Mona opting for a pink sugar plum fairy matching set, and Billie wearing the classic Santa Clause set. Both that you've lovingly made for them. They're clearly excited, especially when it comes to the big bearded man in red. Billie more especially, after you and Hobie brought them to a local mall to see Santa and for them to give them their wishlist, she's been raving about wanting to stay up to catch him in the act. But after watching home alone and having a belly full of warm milk, she went out like a light. Mona on the other hand wants to see him eat the cookies you two prepared for Santa. It's her favourite, chocolate chips with marshmallows. She's hoping that the big man would like it, especially that she gave him the batch from her personal stash.

As they walk out of the hallway and into the floors of the second floor landing, they start to crawl once they see shadows dance along the walls of the living room. The tree that the four of you lovingly put up and decorated are twinkling with the holiday lights, reds, greens and yellows blinking in and out of the room.

“Do you think they'll like it?” They hear your familiar voice, whispering downstairs.

The girls make it to the stairs that overlook the living room, they make themselves smaller by lying prone on the cold floor, tiny hands grasping at the bannisters. Their eyes widen at the sight of who you are talking to.

Right next to you is the man of the hour himself, dressed in red with a giant sack of presents right next to him. He's taller than they've expected, and slimmer. Maybe Santa's cutting back on the cookies.

Billie grabs Mona's shoulder, shaking her excitedly. They wordlessly communicate through looks, based on their happy expressions, they feel like the luckiest kids in the world. They continue to watch Santa work his magic as he places wrapped presents underneath the tree with their names written on them.

“I know they'll love ‘em. ‘sides, Mona's been askin’ for it since July.” Santa replies to you, brown eyes shining in the string lights. His eyes seem to smile at you sitting in the corner of the room, hand occupied with a warm cup of eggnog. The bottom half of Santa's face is obscured by his big white beard, but he's clearly smiling softly at you. “And Bee always wanted that moon lamp ever since she saw Gwen's.”

Beaming at jolly Nick, you leave your cup on the coffee table to walk over to him. “I know, but what if they suddenly don't want those anymore.”

Santa stretches his hand out to you, beckoning you closer as he abandons the sack of presents on the floor. “Love,” love? The girls look at eachother with furrowed brows. Only their dad calls you that, and maybe occasionally that one shop owner downtown that you always buy fabrics from. “Y’know the girls would still be happy even if we gave them a potato each.”

You come to his side without saying anything about the close proximity to the actual Santa. The girls narrow their eyes at Santa's glove hand splayed across the small of your back, thumb rubbing gently across your soft pajama shirt. Only their dad gets to hold you like that.

Chuckling, you move to half hug him, arm wrapped around his back while you place your chin atop the soft red jacket. “Why a potato?”

“Because they go wild for chips.” He looks at you through gentle eyes, nudging his forehead on top of your own, the faux fur of his hat is soft against your skin.

“That's true, maybe we should've gotten them a whole sack of potatoes instead.” Your grin has the girls worried, especially when you move closer to him that the girls would know that it would have their dad burst into tears if they ever saw the scene in front of him.

“That's why ‘m santa, lovie.”

“Mm-hmm,” now you fully embrace him. The girls share a heavy look. “Why are you in full get up again? They won't be able to see you in this, not while they're snoring away all the cookies they had.”

“I know,” he shrugs, “what if they wake up, it'll be a nice memory for ‘em.” His arm squeezes you, hand dangerously close to your behind. The twins are both pissed, standing up from their place atop the stairs. “Or, ‘m all dressed up for you, love.” Santa winks at you, and you giggle in his arms. “Give big red a kiss, yeah?” As he leans in, the twins run downstairs swiftly, yelling and screaming at him to let their mum go.

“What— girls!” You move away, arms trying to block their attacks from hitting Santa.

“Not our mum!” Billie makes it to him first, clinging herself on his leg, trying to bite him through his red pants.

“We trusted you, Santa!” Mona leaps to punch at his stomach, earning a pained groan from the bearded man.

“Mona, no!” You grab her by the armpits as she continues to flail around, trying to get another hit. Good thing you’ve gotten to her before she aimed at his crotch. “Baby, no, that's—!” You contemplate telling them the truth, but Hobie's subtle head shake has you clamping down and embracing Mona.

“Ow, fuc–fudge!” Hobie hops around the room, trying to wiggle free of Billie, who's still clutching at his leg. “Billie, stop!” The one time that his spidey senses failed him.

“I don't care if ‘m on the naughty list! You tried to kiss our mum!” She chomps down on his leg, and he yelps when her baby teeth sink into the fabric and into his leg.

Hobie has no choice but to grab Billie the same way you did with Mona. He holds her in front of him, an arm's length away, still trying to take a chunk out of him. He feels like he ruined the magic of Santa for them. Not to mention the song.

“Stop–!” Hobie holds out his hand to her to tell her that he means no harm, but she tries to bite at his finger. “Billie—!”

“Daddy!” Ramona screams out, voice echoing and rumbling the house. “Daddy, there's an– an impruder!”

You would've chuckled at her fumbled pronunciation of intruder and told her the right way to say it, but when she's on the verge of tears; the both of them are, you have to think of a solution.

“Daddy!” Billie joins in, now fully sobbing. “H–He kissed mummy!”

“I haven't! Not yet!” Hobie tries to defend himself, or Santa for that matter. But it makes the whole thing so much worse when Billie wiggles herself out of his grasp to run towards yours and Hobie's bedroom while crying for him. “Shi—!”

You meet with his eyes while embracing a crying Mona. Mouthing a ‘Go!’ He immediately knows what you're up to. Your synergy levels with him are off the charts.

He leaves through the window, snow crunching underneath him and almost freezing him in the spot. He slowly rips off the Santa outfit one by one whilst he makes his way towards the back of the house. Shedding the beard and tossing it haphazardly in the backyard, he crawls on the wall, finally making it to the bedroom window just as when Billie opens the door with a loud creak.

Feigning naiveté, he acts shocked at her weeping as he opens his arms to her. “What happened?” She sobs on his sleep shirt, drenching it with tears. As Hobie pats her back, he realises that he's still wearing the gloves which he promptly throws away and under the bed before she could see it. “C’mon, mac, tell dad.” He cups her wet cheeks, trying to calm his little girl down.

“I saw mummy kissing Santa Claus!”

Hearing Mona's cry in the doorway with you carrying her, he knows that you two have a long night ahead of you.

—

“Are you sure you want to change pajamas, Billie? You said it's your favourite. The red suits you—” You try to placate her with a plate of chocolate pancakes.

“Yes.” She says so surely with her arms crossed over her chest, still fuming. “I hate Santa.”

Hobie's sitting right next to Mona, hand rubbing along her back whilst she stares angrily at the empty plate of cookies she left for Santa sitting on the counter. “Me too.” She huffs, stabbing her pancakes with a fork.

You share a look with Hobie, hoping that he has any idea how to calm them down. Hugging Billie seems to tamp down her anger, but she still looks at you with furrowed brows after you've apologized profusely.

“Why did you kiss, Santa?” She asked a few hours ago, stomping her little foot down on your bedroom floor, while her sister followed her lead.

“I didn't!” You stared at Hobie right next to you on the bed, looking like he's about to burst into laughter but is keeping it in. “And I wasn't gonna!”

After that whole ordeal, they seem to simmer down to a silent anger that still reverberates through the house. Maybe opening the presents earlier would make them forget it and make them smile.

“We should make signs, Bee! Like what dad makes so Santa knows not to come back ‘ere!” Mona lights up, you finally got a smile out of her.

“That's brilliant!” Hobie plays along, and Billie agrees with rapid nodding that you had to stop with your hand on her forehead before she breaks something. “I'll get my supplies, you two go finish your pancakes, yeah?” Just as he says it, they scarf down the pancakes, prompting Hobie to grab your hand and speed walk away from the kitchen.

Once the two of you are out of earshot and their sights, he corners you against a wall, hands cradling your cheeks, and sighing as he relaxes atop you.

You laugh against his hair, pressing lazy kisses on his hairline. “Don't forget to grab the outfit outside, Hobie. I made that to tailor you and you only.”

He lifts his head up from your chest, cheeks puffed out from sleepiness. Blowing out air, you giggle at him as he flutters your lashes. “I know, love.” His eyes roam all over your face, looking at every curve and dip until he stops at your lips. “I still haven't gotten my answer.”

“Or what? You'll put me on the naughty list?”

Hobie leans closer, lips brushing along your waiting lips. “Lovie, you're on my list every year.”

“I hope I'm the only one on it.” You say, wordlessly inviting him for a kiss by pecking his jaw softly.

“You and you only.” With a chuckle atop your lips, he kisses you under the mistletoe he subtly put up with the sole purpose of kissing you underneath it.

[just-an-anon-reader]

Me reading this and having Ma Meilleure Ennemie as background music in my brain. Beautiful 😭

I love so much how you write ekko and I was thinking a scenario about the parallel universe thing (ep 7)

What if ekko and reader were dating and met thanks to the firelights but then the whole thing with the hexcore happened and got teletrasported in the other universe finding out that he was dating powder instead and he never got to meet reader and maybe he see her in the street of piltover looking different and all

Idk just thinking about how he will react

Ekko knows something is off immediately. Things just feel differently in his chest. Maybe it's being pushed into a parallel universe, but he's convinced that if you were with him, it wouldn't feel so different. It feels like the same soul, but a different body. His hair is different, his clothes are different, who he's with is different. As soon as he looks over and sees that blue hair, he's on guard, even more so when he realizes the change in relationship. He's dating...Powder?

Honestly, that's how he knows he's not where he should be, because he's not with you. And he does feel a bit bad not allowing himself to appreciate what's around him more, but Ekko is very aware with give and take. The Firelights don't exist here, his community never existed, his friends, Scar, everything he poured years of his life into aren't here, but they aren't here because they weren't needed. The people of Zaun can breathe. Vi is dead, but this is the first time since they were children that he's seen Powder. Even better, the first time he's seen her, and she hasn't looked gaunt. Hextech seems to be foreign here, and shimmer doesn't even exist. It's nice, he can admit that, but it's not home.

To him, it's almost like some utopic, drug induced hallucination. His head feels heavy (definitely an after effect of messing with the Arcane), his tongue is dry, his heart is pounding in his chest as he looks around him, convinced that Powder can hear it trying to beat out of his ribcage. Despite it looking pretty, it feels like a bad trip. He stumbles out, leaving Powder to chase after him until he disappears into the now unfamiliar streets. His feet fly in front of him, only barely managing to catch him and propel him further, too dazed to notice the concerned onlookers debating on if they should offer him help.

It's strange being known. No longer known within his found family for what he's created for them, but rather who he's become with his previously dead one. Claggor grew out of his baby fat, Silco and Vander grew closer than before, Mylo grew a god-awful mustache. He's an inventor here. It's almost haunting, the idea that he could've been using his talents for lighthearted fun. The idea that there exists a place that is not in dire need of saving. The fact that there even exists a place where those he's mourned and been changed by, live happily. For a second, he wonders if this is what Jinx felt like, constantly seeing faces despite knowing they weren't there.

He's hyperventilating, back pressed against a harsh brick wall, overstimulated by the way his jacket now seems to constrict him tight and tighter, feeling like a needle is going back through the already pierced flesh of his ear. He could be convinced there are millions of tiny rocks in his shoes as the more he shakes the harder they prick into the soles of his feet. He feels like his very soul is being pricked and prodded at. He feels like he's going insane

But he feels you before he sees you. His breathing slows, the hole in his chest seems to close, his lungs seem to fall back into a rhythm. He breathes you in before he reaches for the hand you have reached out to him. You look different here, like someone who he would never meet in this body, but of course his wandering soul found his way to you. You looked warmer, you fill out your clothes more, you might be a bit taller. Its wonderous what clean air and constant access to food can do for a person.

"Are you okay?" He leaps into your arms, nearly throwing you back and certainly catching you by surprise. Unsure of what to do, you hold the unfamiliar boy, stroking his back awkwardly until he slips from under your arms. He looks familiar but in a surreal way. You can't say for sure if you've seen him physically, but he very well could be the mystery man you see in your dreams sometimes, though much firmer.

"I am now." and you really don't know how to react other than to just smile and nod your head. As he watches you disappear into the crowd, the ground beneath him finally feels solid. If anything, he's more determined than he was before to find his way back home. This place is almost saccharine, too sweet, too bright, too much. It's not his world for a reason; his world wouldn't be complete without you in it.

[just-an-anon-reader]

Take my heart why dont youuuu!!

Viktor x gn!reader - fluff | 2.8k Words

reader is academy student

casual friendship to lovers

sweet and sassy vik

set between Acts 1 and 2, season 1

reader crushes on vik and is meant to be an artist

Viktor is working on Blitzcrank bcs that's his son

Please visit my Ko-Fi for personalised stories and updates on my uploads here on Tumblr!

Might make a part 2 of this with jayvik x reader because Jayce is a silly guy and would accidentally walk in on reader and Viktor being lovey dovey and be like "me too pls"

Nothing really kept you from just going to bed. It was late - much later than you were used to staying up, anyway - and you had finished your studying for the day. Usually, you’d put on your fluffy pajamas right about now and pass out in your comfy bed, dreaming of future goals and some stupid things that’d sneak their way into your slumber. However, today was not a usual day, in the sense of you having one last thing to do: annoy Viktor. Well, at least that’s what you would probably end up doing, even though that absolutely was not your goal. You wanted the complete opposite, actually. 

You had gotten to know the scientist a few weeks back after both of you had visited a seminar - well, you had been forced by a friend because they hadn’t wanted to go alone, while Viktor had been there on his own accord. It had been a little silly really, you had kept whispering questions to your friend so you could understand whatever the professor was yapping on about and Viktor had gotten visibly annoyed. He had passed you a note after a while, telling you to be quiet or leave. You had wanted to sink into your seat and perish, sending the note back with a long message about how sorry you were. Apparently, that had caught his attention, because he approached you after the seminar, asking about your reason to come if you couldn’t understand the simple basics of it. For a moment you had thought he was making fun of you, but when he asked if you had at least found it interesting, you realised that was just the way he was. 

Somehow, a friendship had formed from that small conversation. Funnily enough, you kept running into Viktor in the halls, striking small conversations with him every now and then, before going about your day. You had started wondering about him at some point, always something along the lines of what he actually did at the academy. He certainly didn’t act like any of the other students, and you had never seen him at another seminar since then. The only facts you knew was that his name was Viktor, that he needed a cane and that he could absolutely destroy anyone with words alone - you had noticed when someone made fun of him for talking to you. 

It’d be an understatement to say that you simply liked Viktor. He was nice to you, different from the other students, like he was actually being serious and not just putting up an appearance. You quite liked his accent too, it somehow lulled you to be calm whenever he spoke - even when he was a little annoyed at you (which happened surprisingly often nowadays, though you knew it was all good on Viktors part). You couldn’t even get started on his appearance, he just looked too ethereal to even be real. 

In short, you were absolutely whipped for Viktor.  

Who could really blame you, with all those reasons to love him? And in your defence, Viktor seemed to quite like your company as well. He had invited you to the lab, after all - which is why you were in this situation in the first place. You could’ve denied the offer, but the thought of meeting Viktor in his lab late at night, all alone, made your brain go haywire and your heart immediately said yes without a second thought. In the end though, you stood right here, in front of his lab, too nervous to go in. What if you said something stupid? What if he secretly hated you and only asked you to come because he wanted to ridicule you? 

You were definitely lost deep in thought for a while, hand raised to knock at the tall doors to the lab, until someone emerged from them, running right into you. “Oh! I'm so sorry, are you alright?” The man asked after having taken a step back. You had seen him before, in the academy, though the two of you had never spoken to each other. You knew his name from your friend - they apparently had had some classes together a few times. “I'm fine. I should be the one who's sorry..” you chuckled awkwardly as you averted your gaze. “I was in your way, sorry.” You then add, smiling up at the other apologetically. “Oh, don't worry about it. I'm Jayce, Jayce Talis. Don't think I've seen you around before?” He chuckles, extending his hand towards you. You shake it, telling him your name in return. “I've just… Well, Viktor invited me, actually..” You speak, unsure if Viktor wanted to let Jayce know that. Maybe this was supposed to be secret? Maybe he'd be ashamed of meeting with you? You quickly shake the thought from your head as Jayce grins down at you. “Well, I'll leave you two to it, then. Have a Good night!” There's something in his eyes that makes you question if you should actually stay, but he holds the lab door open for you, so you just slip past him quickly. 

The inside of the lab was surprisingly dark, only a few lights flickering here and there. One prominent one shone onto Viktor, who was evidently engaged in his work. You stepped over silently, not wanting to disturb him, looking over his shoulder to watch. You understood little of his notes and the small device he was tinkering with, but you liked to see the way his fingers carefully worked, cradling the device with such care that you wished you were in its place instead. “Are you going to say hello or just stand there?” Viktor suddenly hums, and you almost yelp at being caught off guard. “I… I hadn't thought that you noticed me.” You mumble, once again feeling awkward. “I heard your conversation with Jayce.” The other responds, glancing over at you for a moment. “There's chairs over there, if you'd like to sit.” the brown haired then added, quickly pointing towards a small stack of chairs before continuing his work. You trot over there, feeling out of place as you pick one up and carry it beside Viktor. Not too close - as much as you wanted that, you'd probably die of embarrassment. Or worse, Viktor would tell you to back off. You sat down silently, hands in your lap because you didn't know where else to put them. “.. What're you working on?” You question, hoping it wouldn't pull Viktor out of the clear state of focus he was in. “Just some small thing… It'll be part of a bigger project.” He answers. “It's..  a personal project so I don't work on it when Jayce is in the lab.” He adds, looking over at you for a moment.

Your heart jumps a little - he's working on a personal project that he doesn't even show Jayce while you're there. You tell yourself to get your shit together immediately, though. Viktor probably just thinks that you won't snitch on him. “It's actually why I asked you to come here… I'm not good with.. aesthetics, as you'd say, so I was wondering if you could.. make this look more friendly.” He mutters, pushing his notebook towards you. A simple sketch of what seemed to be a robot was lazily thrown onto the page, all kinds of little bits of information written around it. “Blitzcrank..?” You read, looking up at Viktor in question. “The name is uh.. work in progress.” He answers, actually seeming kind of bashful about it. “It's cute. I like it.” You hum, looking closer at the sketch. “Make them look more friendly, huh?” You sigh before looking for a pencil, mumbling a soft thanks when Viktor hands you one. “They're supposed to be for Zaun. Help out and such.” Viktor explains. “I do not want kids to be scared of them.” You find it kind of endearing, really. You’ve known that Viktor is from Zaun himself, it's never made a difference to you, but that he actually wants to help his people in his own way was… cute. “Well, I don't know much about functionality, but going off of your sketch..” you hum, grabbing a piece of blank paper (you prayed that there wasn't any useful stuff on the other side) and made your own little sketch, tweaking Viktors design here and there. “I think this could work. Give them some light colours and they should be fine. Like yellow or something.” You speak, sliding your sketch back over to Viktor alongside his notebook. The other nods, taking a look at your design. “.. yes, this should be fine.” He smiles softly, quickly noting ‘Blitzcrank Design 2’ over your sketch, alongside your name. “You like it?” You ask, feeling a little insecure.

You've never been really proud of any of your work - art has always been more of a silly hobby than something you could be great in.

Viktor hums, nodding slightly as he stashes the paper among the rest of his notes. “I do. Besides, your art is above my potential, I could have never done something like this.” He answers, running a hand through his already messy hair. You get the sudden urge to fix it up, already raising your hand before catching yourself again. You shouldn’t act on a whim with Viktor, he was always so calm and collected, surely he would appreciate it if you were as well. “Is there something on my face?” Viktor sighs, glancing over at you with the softest hint of a grin. “Ah- No. Sorry.” You laugh awkwardly as you quickly rest your hand back in your lap. “I just.. your.. Well, your hair is messy.” You add, pointing at the soft strands - at least you thought they’d be soft, his hair always looked like he took particular care of it. “Fix it up, then. That’s what you wanted, yes?” Viktor chuckles, leaning his head towards you slightly. His words alone make you freeze up, completely caught in shock. It takes you a moment or two before you slowly raise your hand again, carefully carding your fingers through the scientist's hair - it was soft, you noted while fixing up each and every strand. You took your time, wanting to cherish the simple moment while it lasted. God knows Viktor probably would never offer physical closeness like this again. For a while you even considered just not pulling away, especially when Viktor sighed as you softly dragged your fingers over his scalp. Viktor actually leans into your touch, humming softly as you gently massage him, your face flushes at the intimacy of the moment. You have to awkwardly clear your throat so you can get yourself together and pull away, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Viktors cheeks had gotten a bit of colour as well. You brush it off, figuring that it was just the lighting. 

The rest of the evening goes by easily, a little small talk as you watch Viktor work, plus he tells you more about his ‘Blitzcrank’ project. It’s nice, really, getting to spend time with him so easily. You liked it, the atmosphere of the lab was surprisingly calming, even though small beeps and cracks from other experiments still startled you from time to time. Viktor didn’t seem to notice, too focused on whatever he was doing - honestly, his focused face was kind of cute… You had to keep yourself from staring multiple times, which definitely made you glad that Viktor was in his own little zone. 

Still, the night had to come to an end - at least for you. Viktor said he’d stay up a little longer, wishing you a good night as you left the lab, a giddy feeling in your stomach as you did. You hoped Viktor had liked it as much as you did, nothing would make you feel worse than if you had completely annoyed him the whole time. 

Luckily, your hopes came real when Viktor asked you to join him in the lab once again a few days later. Jayce would be there, but you seriously didn't care. Nothing mattered when you could spend more of your time with the most interesting person on the planet - you were seriously gone, you actually found yourself daydreaming about Viktor during your classes. It had become awful, you had actually been caught by your Professors multiple times and had been ridiculed for not being mentally present. It was hard to care, though, when the small Viktor in your mind was holding onto your hand and telling you how he'd like to spend the evening with you. 

You found yourself making your way to Viktor's lab once more, a little jump in your step as you hum a soft tune. Nothing could stop you from being absolutely delighted at the premise of getting to watch Viktor work once again. His skilled fingers carefully tending to small devices, his eyes completely focused… Oh you absolutely would go to hell for your thoughts. This time, you didn't wait before slowly pushing the door open, though you did stop in your tracks when Jayce, once again, stood directly in front of you. “Ah! There you are. I thought you'd be too scared to get inside again.” The man grins, though the tease is half hearted. You stumble around your words awkwardly for a second, before Viktors huff saves you. “Leave it, Jayce, we both know you're a lost puppy whenever you get to a new place.” Your saviour hums, and you can't help but chuckle slightly, cheeks already the softest hint of red as you ignore Jayce - who actually pouts as you don't answer his next question - and step towards Viktor. “Hi.” You grin, looking down at what the other was scribbling down. “Hello.” Viktor answers, giving you a small smile. You sit down beside him again - surprisingly, your chair from last time is still there. You wonder if it's just by chance or if Viktor actually left it there for you. “Lovebirds.” Jayce chuckles, earning a soft glare from Viktor. For a second it looks like he's also contemplating throwing a pencil after the other, he decides against it, though. “You are just mad that you cannot land a date, Jayce.” He scowls instead, and it genuinely makes your heart burst. Was this a date? Is this what is Viktors definition of a date is? Was the last meeting a date? Your brain rushed with thoughts and feelings at Viktors simple words, and the lab filled with silence. You noticed that none of the sounds you had perceived the first time were there now - those experiments were probably finished. “...you two don't have to keep back for my sake-” Jayce suddenly says, which now actually earns him a lazily thrown pencil. “Jayce, how about you take a little walk?” Viktor grumbles, his accent a little heavier than usually. “You're no fun.” Jayce sighs, but he actually gathers his stuff and leaves the lab. “... is this a date?” You can't help but ask as soon as the door falls closed. Viktor freezes for a moment, setting his work aside to properly look at you. “I… Well… Yes. I figured you knew that?” He admitted, he actually looked bashful about it. “Was that… not clear?” He then asked, running a hand through his hair. “Viktor, you asked me to spend time with you in your lab.” You answered matter of factly. “Yes, I indeed did that.” “Do you not see the issue?” Viktor thinks for a moment at your question. “Should I have asked you to go out with me? I never quite allow anyone in here - well, Jayce has a mind of his own with visitors…” He mutters. You chuckle slightly at the look on his face - for someone so smart he wasn't being much of a genius right now. “Well, anything would've been better if you had wanted to bring across that this was a date.” You sigh, rubbing your temple slightly as your cheeks flush a heavy red. “I mean, I didn't… I didn't know you thought of it this way…” You add, looking up at Viktor nervously. “... I thought you would know. I had been quite open about my interest in you-” He starts, clearing his throat slightly. “... have I not been?” You shake your head softly. “Not open enough that I noticed. But, for the record, I.. really like that this is a date. And I like that the last one was a date.” You admit, sheepishly resting your hand on his. You almost burst into a fit of nervous laughter when he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Then, am I right to assume that you would like to.. spend more time in the lab with me?” He questions, a small smile on his lips as he looks at you. “Gladly.” You respond, smiling back at him happily. 

[just-an-anon-reader]

No words just kyaaaah!

┈﹒ ꒰ 𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘!𝗘𝗞𝗞𝗢 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦 ꒱

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled

୨୧ These are headcanons of the other Ekko, before the canon Ekko from the show "takes" his place… I hope you understand...

୨୧ I'm still writing for the fic, but the last chapters is taking longer than I thought, I hope you understand, in the meantime I have some things in drafts that I will publish so you don't run out of content.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

another universe!ekko who was really nervous about proposing to you knowing how big of a step that is...

Ekko had always been a confident guy. He was innovator, someone who could fix almost anything. But when it came to you, he found himself feeling like a bumbling preteenager all over again. He wanted everything to be perfect—down to the handmade ring he was crafting for the proposal. Using scraps of precious metals and stones he collected over the years, he poured hours of focus into shaping it into something that represented your story together. Benzo would catch him hunched over his workstation at odd hours, muttering about the alignment or polish. "You know, kid, it’s not like she’s gonna turn you down if it’s a millimeter off," Benzo teased, ruffling Ekko’s hair. Ekko would just grin sheepishly but double his efforts anyway.

another universe!ekko who practiced his proposal speech a dozen times, only to get caught mid-rehearsal...

He was standing in the middle of The Last Drop, the roof their unofficial safe haven for years. “So, um, I’ve been thinking…” he started, pacing back and forth. “No, no, that sounds dumb. Okay—‘you’re the light of my life, and I can’t imagine—’ ugh, that’s so cheesy.” Behind him, Powder crept up the stairs, barely containing her giggles. “Keep going,” she whispered, trying not to laugh. Ekko whipped around, his face flaming red. “How long have you been there?!” “Long enough to know you’re terrible at this,” she teased, doubling over with laughter. “You’re lucky she already loves you.”

another universe!ekko who had no idea you were planning your own big announcement...

While Ekko was caught up in his grand proposal plans, you were busy with plans of your own. The test results sat folded in your pocket for days, and your hands hovered over them more times than you could count. You were going to be a mother. It was Powder who figured it out first, being too observant for her own good. “You’ve been glowing,” she said one afternoon while helping you sort supplies at the community center. “Also, you cried over Mylo spilling coffee, so I kinda put two and two together.” You blinked at her, stunned. “Powder, you cannot tell anyone yet!” She held up her hands. “Cross my heart! But seriously, I’m gonna be the best godmother ever!” You couldn’t help but laugh, though your nerves stayed. You wondered how Ekko would react, if he’d be overwhelmed or excited—or both.

another universe!ekko who proposed on the roof of the last drop, the place where your story began...

Ekko had chosen the roof where he had first kissed you as the spot to ask you to be his forever. He had strung up soft, glowing lights and set up a little table with flowers and your favorite dessert. When you stepped onto the roof and saw him standing there, his hands fidgeting nervously as he smiled at you, your heart swelled with affection. He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. "So, uh… I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time." You stepped closer, your smile encouraging him to continue. "Being with you has been the greatest adventure of my life," he said, his voice gaining confidence. "And I can’t imagine spending another day without knowing that you’ll always be by my side. So..." He dropped to one knee and pulled out the handmade ring, holding it up with a hopeful look. "Will you marry me?" Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, unable to find your voice at first. "Yes, Ekko. Of course, I’ll marry you." The joy on his face was priceless as he slipped the ring onto your finger, pulling you into a tight embrace.

another universe!ekko who fainted when you told him you were pregnant moments later...

But before he could say another word, you decided it was time to share your own surprise. “I have something to tell you too,” you said, your hand trembling as you guided his to your stomach. “You’re going to be a dad.” His grin froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Wait, what—?” And then he hit the floor. Powder’s shriek of laughter carried from the rooftop stairs. "I knew he’d do that!"

another universe!ekko who woke up to find you fanning him, looking both amused and concerned...

"You okay?" you asked, trying not to laugh. He blinked up at you, groaning. "Wait… did you just say…?" "Yes, Ekko," you said softly. "You’re going to be a dad." For a moment, he was silent, then a wide grin broke across his face. "I’m gonna be a dad," he repeated, awe in his voice.

another universe!everyone who was overjoyed by the double news…

Vander insisted on hosting an engagement party at The Last Drop, which quickly turned into a celebration for the baby too. Silco was the first to congratulate you both, "You’ll be a wonderful mother," he said quietly. Claggor and Mylo, meanwhile, started a heated argument over who would be the better uncle. "I’m obviously the fun uncle," Mylo declared, crossing his arms. Claggor rolled his eyes. "The kid needs someone responsible. That’s me." Powder, sitting nearby, added fuel to the fire. "Don’t worry, guys. The baby’s gonna love me more anyway. I’m the godmother!" Benzo couldn’t resist teasing Ekko. "Didn’t want to wait, huh?" he joked, clapping him on the back. Ekko just laughed, unashamed. "When you know, you know."

another universe!ekko who became the most attentive fiancé and father-to-be anyone had ever seen…

Ekko went into full-on protective mode. He insisted on carrying anything remotely heavy for you, making sure you got enough rest, and preparing meals that he claimed were "good for the baby." "Ekko, it’s just a broom," you said one afternoon, trying to sweep the living room. "Doesn’t matter," he replied, gently taking it from your hands. "You’re not lifting a finger while I’m around."

another universe!ekko who is absolutely excited about his baby

Ekko transformed into the ultimate caretaker. He made sure you were comfortable at all times, fussing over pillows, blankets, and cravings. He’d often disappear for errands and come back with baby clothes, stuffed animals, or tiny shoes. "You know it’s too early to shop, right?" you teased one evening. "Yeah, but look at these little boots!" he said, holding them up proudly.

another universe!ekko who spent hours talking to your belly...

He would lean close, resting his head against you as he spoke softly. “Hey, little one. It’s your dad. I just wanted to say I love you already—whether you’re a boy or a girl, doesn’t matter.” Your laughter filled the room. “You’re gonna spoil them before they’re even born.” “Damn right,” he said, grinning.

another universe!silco who became unexpectedly protective of you during your pregnancy…

"Must I remind you," Silco said one day, his piercing gaze locking onto yours, "that you’re carrying a very important member of this family?" "I was just reaching for a book," you replied, amused. "It starts with books, and ends with unnecessary strain."

another universe!powder who was the maid of honor and made sure your dress was perfect...

Powder was practically vibrating with excitement as she helped you into your gown. “You look like a queen,” she declared, fluffing the skirt. “No, a goddess. Ekko’s gonna cry when he sees you.” “Let’s hope he doesn’t faint again,” you teased, earning a snort of laughter.

another universe!benzo who secretly cried at ekko’s wedding...

As you walked down the aisle, arm in arm with Vander, Benzo dabbed at his eyes. When Ekko teased him later, he grumbled, “Shut it, kid. It’s allergies.”

another universe!ekko whose wedding was the event of the year...

The Last Drop was transformed into a breathtaking venue, with twinkling lights and decorations. Vander had insisted on non-alcoholic cocktails, much to the delight of you and the other guests. Ekko couldn’t take his eyes off you as you exchanged vows, his voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions. “You’re my everything,” he said, slipping the ring onto your finger. "I promise to love you, protect you, and be the best partner and dad I can be—for you and for our family."

another universe!ekko who ended the night on the roof where it all began...

After the reception, Ekko led you back to the roof where it all began. The city lights shimmered below, the quiet hum of Zaun wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Ekko knelt in front of you, resting his head gently against your rounded belly. "I’ll be the best dad," he murmured, his hands cradling your bump. "You already are," you assured him, running your fingers through his hair. He looked up at you, his brown eyes shining with love. "And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it."

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

[just-an-anon-reader]

This was beautiful!! But ouch? My heart? Who’s cutting onions in here??

I see him in the back of my mind, all the time.

This fic came to me in a dream, woke up crying.

You couldn’t help but feel abandoned, left behind to deal with the onslaught of emotions all by yourself as your eyes remained firmly on where Viktor once was before the arcane consumed him whole.

The war was over but the hollow feeling within your chest only grew stronger when seeing loved ones reunite in fits of hysterical tears and bone crushing embraces, the lump in your throat got worse as the ache in your heart had something missing, someone missing that made it beat faster than normal. There was nothing Viktor left behind of his existence besides from his cane that you kept tightly clutched within your hand, mimicking the way he’d love tap the ground with it, as though you were trying to prove to no one in particular who cared that he still exists.

Silent tears seemed to flow endlessly down your cheeks as you wandered through the hallways of the Academy, and yet you felt numb, cold like you were already long dead and didn’t know it just yet as even your fingers felt cold to the touch, but you didn’t know whether that was from the biting cold wind or something else entirely. You didn’t care either as your reason for caring and for loving every aspect of life was taken away from you, taking your beating heart with him as he did and you didn’t know whether to hate him or love him even harder for giving you the best moments of your life, memories that seemed to all play out before you as you entered the now empty laboratory.

You could still hear the laughter and the scolding echo as though the walls with complex equations scrawled upon them had harboured the essence of the people who once worked diligently to the point of physical exhaustion. Your throat clenched again you delved deeper into the lab with one place in mind like you were being pulled towards it by an unseen force; Viktor’s workbench that had now upon closer inspection had a fine layer of dust settling over it, something he would’ve never let happen despite the tendency to leave his things scattered everywhere he pleased but still become cutely annoyed when he couldn’t find them.

However there seemed to be one thing that the dust refused to touch, a broach. Your brows furrowed as you looked at it confused, what was a broach doing in a place like this? It looked like it was made a while back but yet had a polish to it that made it seemed like it was made only recently. You knew Viktor didn’t wear broaches so seeing such an item on his workbench specifically was leaving you more questions then answers, questions that were soon answered when you noticed a small note underneath it, scrawled with Viktor’s usual chicken scratch writing;

‘For my dearest muse, for I will always be with you, always - Viktor.’

You clutched the cane tighter now as the pain within your chest almost made you collapse on the floor. This broach was for you. Viktor made it for you and never had the chance to give it to you, or perhaps he was waiting for the right moment to do so, but fate decided to be cruel and change the trajectory of your life for the worst; the common con when you happened to fall in love with a scientist determined to make a change. You sighed unevenly as you reach for the broach, your fingers closing over the cold metal of it while gingerly lifting it off the workbench, holding it up to your face so that you could take in the details of Viktor’s most beautiful creation.

The broach had a decent weight to it, not too light where you could easily crush it within your hand, but not too hard where it was proven difficult in your hand for prolonged periods of time. It was beautifully done as on the front of the broach was a an intricate design of a mechanical Blue Jay bird. You ran your thumb across the bird to feel the engravings that made it beneath your finger tips. The bird began to glow a vibrant blue, making you jolt a little, and the broach opened up to show it’s insides to you as a soft melody began to play from some hidden component within the broach.

The moment the first notes of the soft melody hits your ears the tears that had stilled in you moment of curiosity began to fall once more, this was the song that you had told Viktor once upon a time ago was your favourite, and so for him to make you this broach with your favourite bird on the front and your beloved song on the inside, you’ve never felt more loved by a man such as him. Yet you couldn’t run to him and kiss him senseless, not anymore, which made the broach itself a reminder that even if he was long gone you were the last thing on his mind.

‘Oh Viktor.’ Your voice came out weak as a sob broke from your lips as memories resurfaced as the melody continued its tune just for you.

…

‘Viktor!’ You burst in the lab, making him jolt as he looked over at you with what he wanted to be conveyed as annoyance but came across as a cute pout in your eyes.

‘My dear how often must I tell you not to burst in here so abruptly and without warning, what if something went wrong and you had gotten hurt.’ Viktor scolds as you merely shrug and moved over to his side to look over his shoulder, trying to see what he was working on, only for him to move it slightly away from your line of sight.

‘We’re both alive aren’t we?’ You said sarcastically and Viktor sighs as a small smile graced his lips as his amber eyes looked back at you with the warmth you always use to being greeted with. ‘You truly fear nothing my love but the next time you pull sometime like that you’re banned from entering the lab for the rest of the week.’ He says warningly as he points his wielding tool at you to emphasise his point.

You leaned over to kiss his forehead. ‘Duly noted my love but can I see what you’re working on? Or is it a secret for me to find later?’ You then ask as you once again tried to see what he was making, and once again Viktor move it away from your curious eyes, making you pout once more as you looked at him pleadingly.

Viktor sighs, your curiosity was never ending and while he would indulge you on his creations, he couldn’t do so for this one. This broach was his most ambitious project thus far and it was a project he has dedicated to you a long time ago the moment you both sat at the docks, hearing a harmonious melody within the wind as you admitted that it was your favourite.

It was that moment where Viktor decided to make something that you could keep on your being forever and thus project blue jay broach was underway. He was halfway done with it, all he had to do was finished wielding some components on the inside that would play the melody the moment the broach was opened, then he would move onto engraving the blue jay on the front as a final touch to a months long work in progress. ‘Practice your patience and you shall find out what it is soon enough my muse.’ He says softly as he kisses the back of your hand.

‘Alright keeps your secrets, I’ll find out sooner or later.’ You said as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Viktor raised a playful brow. ‘Is that a threat or a promise my muse?’ He asks.

You shrugged your shoulders. ‘Why not both.’ You said and Viktor laughs which makes you smile in response, feeling your chest warm as you looked at him, vowing to treasure this beautiful man for the rest of your life.

…

‘I know it’s not much but I wanted to make you something…I know it’s not the best but-‘

‘I love it my muse.’ Viktor starts as he takes the gift off of your hand, cradling it within his own as he looked over the amateur wielding and more so at the love and effort you’ve put into making this just for him.

You looked between him and the bird that you’ve made for him on a whim one day, wanting to repay him for loving you as he did in a way he’d recognise, even if you weren’t familiar with it you’d give it a try just to see him smile that gorgeous smile of his that made his amber eyes seem to brighten.

‘Really? You mean that?’ You asked and Viktor brushed his hand against your arm softly, stopping to hold your hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

‘Unequivocally my love. It possess a uniqueness that is undoubtedly yours and yours alone.’ He replies while pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

‘That’s a poetic way of saying that it’s made by an amateur who can barely wield shit without almost hurting themselves.’ You muttered under your breath as you rested your head against his shoulder. Viktor chuckles as he puts aside the mechanical bird on his workbench in order to hold you against him as he rests his head atop of yours.

‘If it’s any consolation it’s a well made creation for an amateur wielder.’ He says, smiling to himself when he hears you muffled groan. He wishes to stay like this forever if he could, just have you in his arms for all of eternity until that eternity fades to nothing, and it was just you two locked in the moment in the blanket of never ending darkness.

‘I hate you.’ You say.

‘I love you too my muse.’ Viktor replies as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

…

‘Viktor?’ You asked.

‘Yes my love?’ He replies, looking at you.

‘Do you think we’re together in every universe?’ You then looked at him, finding him more beautiful than any star that hung in the sky before you.

Viktor makes a face full of thought before letting his hand find yours, squeezing it as he presses a kiss to the back of it. ‘Of course my love, for what would I be without you to be my muse, my confidant and my anchor.’ His face then becomes one of seriousness as he leans so that his forehead touches yours. ‘Do you believe that we’re together in every universe?’

‘Without a doubt.’ You answered back, kissing his lips. ‘I don’t think I could live in a reality where you don’t exist my beautiful Viktor.’ You add as you started deeply into his amber eyes, watching them soften in relief as Viktor reciprocated your kiss with one of his own.

‘What a coincidence I was thinking the exact same thing my muse.’ Viktor whispers softly to you as he kisses you once more. You held the back of his head to keep him close as the stars watched you both display your love for one another in the most innocent way possible.

…

Mel wondered down the hallway but as she was about to pass the lab, she heard the soft melody coming from it and stopped to peek through the open doorway. Sat fast asleep on Viktor’s chair, body splayed uncomfortably across his dust covered workbench, was you and she couldn’t help but smile sympathetically for you, after all you had just lost the love of your life before your very eyes and with no plausible way of getting him back.

What was making the melody Mel did find as her eyes landed on the open broach within your hand, Viktor’s final gift to you as it hummed the melody for the fifth time. It was a beautiful song Mel thought to herself as she moved next to you, resting her hand over your shoulder as she heard you softly mutter in your sleep. ‘I’m sorry Viktor. I love you.’

‘I know he loves you too.’ Mel replied as she reached over and closed the broach in your hand, seeing the mechanical engraving on the cover as she did so before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wanting nothing more then let you sleep and be with Viktor in the land of dreams as she moved to walk back out the door. Mel looks back at you once more and in a moment of nostalgia overcame her she saw Viktor sleeping in that very chair instead of you. He was clutching his cane the same way you did and in that moment it looked as though your hands were touching; together intertwined in the smallest of things.

Viktor would always be with you, always.

[just-an-anon-reader]

Yooooo!? Imagine him and hobie? Bloody wicked

Ekko spider WIP

[just-an-anon-reader]

Nothing hits the spot than a daily dose of fluff~

Hiiii 🤭

Hopping here to request a Reader x Ekko where they're just two love birds and R sneaks into his "office" because she just missed him :( and then one thing leads to another and they're kinda carried away by each other.. that until duty calls up and R watches Ekko switching from loving future husband to the Leader of the Firelights

Love you!!!

Hihihi thank you sm bleaky for the idea!!! Another fic straight from our dms 🤭 I hope you like it, pookie ❤️

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, reader is a childhood friend turned lover, Firelight! Reader, lovestruck! Ekko, no s2 spoiler, cw suggestive, FLUFF!

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ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The hoverboard whirrs softly from under you, with the moonlight peeking through the leaves of the beloved tree, bathing you in its dappled silver glow. The breeze carries ashen smoke amidst the scent of sweet dew filled flowers.

You lean forward slightly, guiding the board gently towards the open window of the tree house where a certain someone is burning the midnight oil on his workbench. You perch yourself over the window, careful not to make any noise as you slither your way inside. Hopefully staying as a surprise for Ekko.

He felt you before he heard your grunt and the unmistakable sound of your head bumping on the windowsill. Smiling tiredly, he twists in his chair to look at you fondly while you cradle your poor head from the recent bump.

“You know I gave you a key for a reason.” You can practically hear his amusement from his tone.

“Where's the fun in that?” You chuckle, palm patting at the blooming headache. “I thought I'd surprise you.”

Ekko roams his eyes over you as your smirk grows wider with every second he ogles you. “I think you forgot the surprise.” He points at your empty hands, tilting his head to the side in case you've got something hidden behind you.

“Ekko, I'm the surprise.” You wink at him, arms raised to your sides in a ‘here I am’ gesture. He shakes his head with a smile, watching you as you saunter towards him. “You should be asleep.” Your hand finds its place on his cheek, he looks up at you, eyes soft under the warm light of the desk lamp. He leans against your touch, lamenting at the way you gently scratch at his nape. “You can do this once you get some rest. Your board will still be here tomorrow.”

He swears he can fall asleep with your tender touch and voice lulling him to slumber. “I can't,” he sighs, reluctantly pulling away from you to return his attention towards his board that glows softly with green light. “we have something planned early tomorrow.”

Your heart softens for him and his determination. “Am I part of that something something?” Sitting down on his desk, far enough to give him space to work but close enough for you to poke his leg with your foot.

“Not this time,” he glances at you, finding you huffing in place as he screws in the blades tightly. “You still got that shoulder thing.”

“This shoulder thing is alright now.” He raises a brow at you, head shaking lightly. You sigh, surrendering. “Fine, it's acting up again, but it's technically better.” Ekko hums in reply, elbow deep inside the hoverboard. “Kind of. Can I at least help? I don't like feeling useless.”

His hand cups your knee, thumbs tracing swirls on your skin. You can feel how warm his hand is from under his glove. “Just sit there and look pretty for me, okay?” Smirking, he pats you once before returning his hand back to his work as you pout and huff at him. “And you're never useless. You're still healing, trouble. I don't want you getting hurt out there because of a busted shoulder.” A flash of you falling off your board with a sickening crunch fills his vision with dread. He turns towards you fully, tapping his wrench on the wooden table, and gentle eyes softening up at your features. “You'll have your time, I promise.”

You nod, watching as the green hue flickers over his concerned face. “Okay, but you owe me.” You cross your leg over the other while he smiles and turns towards his machine again.

“How many IOUs is that now?” He asks, glancing between you and the board.

You nudge him with your foot, “too many, Ekko.” You say his name with a sing-song lilt, effectively taking his attention. “What?” With a teasing smile, he stares at you wordlessly.

“You're distracting me.” His eyes follows the curve of your jaw up to your lips. Heart stuck in his throat, and eyes glued onto the soft skin. He lays his tools down. Abandoning it immediately.

“Oh,” your shoulders slump slightly. “I'll leave, just get some sleep, okay?” Hopping down, Ekko stops you with his hand on your thigh. “You need something?” You place your hand above his own as he squeezes you.

“Yeah, sit back down for me?” He says it seriously, as if he needs to talk to you about something important.

You straighten up, following his instructions. The desk creaks under your form, and as you wait for his very important words, he stands up from his seat, kicking it away before cradling your face gently in his gloved hands. The rough fabric sits on your cheek, but his touch is softer as he gazes at you with those eyes you've always loved ever since you two were still running around playing pretend.

“Now you're the one distracting me.” You whisper, index looping around his overalls to pull him towards you. Placing him in between your legs, as he leans forward with his head tilted slightly to find the perfect angle of your lips. “What were you saying, Ekko?” Teasing, he inhales deeply, lips merely an inch from your own.

“Let me…?” He says before you crash your lips against his own, answering his cut off question. Your eyes close as he smiles, mirroring your expression. You both kiss in sync, hearts beating in the same pace.

You hear him chuckle softly as your lips fall into a medley of rhythm with his desperate kisses. The kiss runs deep and long, teeth clashing, noses meeting, and hands caressing every angle of you as your own hands roam up his bare and lean arms, until you find penchant on the back of his head. Fingers weaved around his hair, not pulling away, no, pushing him further against you as the air grows hotter around you with every breath you take.

You're home in his arms. And all you can think about is him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your slightly agaped lips, leaning away for a moment to take in air and to remove his gloves to feel you fully.

You stare at him through half lidded eyes, cheeks searing hot and stomach throbbing with ache. “Yeah...” Your voice is shaky at best, legs wrapping around him whilst your chest heaves.

Just as you say it, he meets with your lips once again, taking your breath away as you give it willingly. This time it's softer and gentler as he kisses you tenderly. Your head hits the wall with how much he's kissing you, so with his palm sliding behind your head, he cushions you from the blow as he continues to kiss you fervently as if he hasn't gotten a taste of you in years.

“Ekko.” You sigh out as he kisses the curve of your lips, tracing its shape with his own. “Ekko.” Your tone grows breathlessly as he slowly makes his way towards your throat. “Ekko—” His lips were just about meeting with your warm skin when a knock interrupts you both. “Shit.”

“Damn it.” He murmurs, chest heaving, pupils blown out as he gives you one quick kiss against the side of your neck. Definitely not the final one.

You pat his cheek with a lopsided smile, thumb brushing along his kiss bitten lips, wiping away the sheen you've left. Ekko pecks your thumb before moving away from you. He fixes your rumpled shirt, just as you notice that you've smudged the white hourglass paint on his face. Whoops.

“Ekko, you've got…” you gesture towards his nose, trying to tamp down your laughter.

His blown out eyes widens, lungs still trying to intake oxygen from the strenuous activity. His nose scrunches up when he sees you having the same smudged paint on your face. Smile tamped down by biting his lip.

He looks behind you, where a small mirror is hanging just beside your head. He sees himself looking disheveled, hair sticking all over the place, face paint smudged into an odd shape.

Chuckling, the knocking grows louder. “I've got you, don't worry. I won't let your reputation get tarnished.” You take a handkerchief from your pocket, effectively wiping away the smudged mess on his face as much as you can.

“Did you get it?” He's still breathless when he asked.

“And…there. I've got them all.” You get a thankful peck on your cheek for a job well done.

But before he could move away from you, he takes the handkerchief in his hand to wipe at your (his) own smudged face paint. He tucks the fabric away in his pocket, maybe you'll come looking for it one day, effectively giving you an excuse to come visit him sooner rather than later.

Ekko now moves away, clearing his throat but the evidence of your shared previous activity is still evident on how much he inhales and how his hands are so clammy that he can water the tree with the sweat on his palms.

“C–come in.” He curses under his breath at how his voice cracked at the start. The door squeaks open, revealing his right hand man, Scar, waiting at the doorway.

His golden eyes glance at you, Ekko hides your equally disheveled form with his body, blocking your obviously kissed lips and your rumpled clothes. Scar raises a knowing brow, eyes speaking a thousand words.

“Hi, Y/N.” He says gruffly, lips subtly curled into a smirk. You wave shyly above Ekko, afraid that you'd let out incoherent words while you're still reeling from his warmth. “I can come back later.”

Ekko’s seriously considering it. “Is it important?”

“Everything's important with you Ekko.” Scar's eyes turn towards you with the word ‘important.’

Ekko sighs, slightly disappointed. “Right, what happened?”

His whole demeanor changes into what most people would think when they hear about the notorious leader of the firelights. His posture straightens up, and the air around him oozes authority. The man in front of you isn't just Ekko, your love and confidant, he's Ekko, the feared leader of the firelights, and the boy saviour. But you can still see his previous sweetness from how his eyes still smile when he remembers your soft lips upon his own. He's still your Ekko through and through.

“It's the chem barons, they blew out an entire building.” Scar briefs him, and you read the room as their conversation grows more serious.

If you listen to any more, you'd want to join in so you decide to leave before you could give your two cents like always. Ekko was right, your shoulder wouldn't help much with a full blown fight. So you're just gonna stay away, for now at least, until you're fully healed to be of help. For his sanity and your wellbeing.

You take a deep breath, still heaving from his kisses, hopping down from the table even with your wobbly legs. Ekko looks at you in the middle of the conversation, hand reaching out in case you fall down. Scar watches with amusement at the scene in front of him.

“I'm good,” you say quietly only for Ekko to hear. “We'll continue this later, okay?” You say louder this time for both of them to hear. With a wink, and a hand grazing his back, you leave him standing there, aghast at what you've blatantly said.

His own mind betrays him at how *later could go. Ekko has to hold onto the chair next to him to stabilize himself lest he melts in front of Scar, who's absolutely trying to reel his laughter in that he's about to pop a vein on his forehead from how hard he's trying.

As you close the door behind you, you hear his booming laughter and Ekko's unmistakable groaning behind the door.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[just-an-anon-reader]

Fantabulous!!! Got me squealing like kyaaaa (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Rainy Day kisses

Hobie x gn! reader

Short story

Mentions of a undetailed bad week

Hobie lifts reader

No detailed description of reader

kissing and cuteness in the rain

Pet names used: luv, angel, dork, Romeo

AMAZING banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment (thank you so much! I'll definitely be checking out more of them!)

Event hosted by @the-kr8tor go check out her page!

You were having a bad day, honestly a bad week, but today was the icing on the cake. Sighing you grabbed your bags preparing to make your mopey trek home. You hoped you'd be able to get in contact with Hobie today, he hadn't been to the pub for a while or making himself known at your door, remembering your address after he'd walked you home a few times. He always knew how to cheer you up and the little crush you had on him was only 10 percent of why.  

Shaking your head with a heavy sigh you waved goodbye to your coworkers. The walk to your apartment from the pub wasn't far but with how overcasted the sky was you weren't sure you'd make it home in time to beat the rain and of course, with it being the kind of week it was you had forgotten a jacket. With one last look up at the darkening sky you hurried home. 

Hobie cursed as he watched as you took off, currently standing on the building across the pub you worked at. He’d meant to be there when you got off work, after being too busy this week between being spider-punk and band stuff to come see his favorite bartender. Hobie grabbed his bag of spare clothes as he shot a web out swinging in the direction of your apartment. 

You didn't make it in time. Currently, standing about two buildings away from your apartment. You were drenched to the bone in rainwater. Luckily you had grabbed one of your heavier-duty bags, so your stuff was safe at least. You took the final steps toward your building before tossing the bag up on the entrance steps making sure it landed under the cover. 

With a deep breath you turned your head up at the sky, eyes closed as raindrops raced down your face, before letting out a scream that turned quickly into laughter. You'd always loved the rain and yeah getting drenched in it wasn't normally how you showed your admiration but it felt like the heavy drops had washed away your stress. A childlike giddiness filled you as you took the chance to just let loose. You lived in a more secluded part of town anyway, not much traffic from people or cars and it was early enough in the evening that the golden orange rays of the setting sun were enough to keep the chill of your bones. Your laughter filled the street as you spun in place dancing to your own beat and jumping in puddles that formed. 

Hobie watched from a few buildings down as you started to dance in the rain. He had taken the chance to change in the nearby alley before making his way to your place. He smiled, quickening his pace as an idea stuck with him. 

“Evening, luv. Don't let me stop you!” He held up his guitar after calling out from about a building away, the setting sun shadowing him in a golden halo. His smile widened as he took in your awe-struck gaze. “ Was just wondering if you'd care for some music to go with your dancing?” 

“Hobie…?” You blinked at him owlishly, rainwater burning your eyes before a big smile broke across your face. You took off in his direction, wincing a bit internally when he threw his guitar to the ground to catch you in his arms. You had one moment to ponder his ability to hold and catch you with such ease before he spun you. A startled gasp leaves your lips before you're laughing, throwing your head back letting the rain kiss your skin as hobie spin you. 

“Hobie, we're gonna fall!” your tone is more amused than worried as you continue to laugh at his show of strength. 

“Don’t worry I’ve got us, luv. If we do go down I'll make sure to…” His laughter mixes with yours just before he slips falling back onto the sidewalk with a grunt, arms never leaving you as makes sure to cushion your fall. 

“Oof, famous last words I guess.” he laughed, onyx eyes shining with joy as he grinned up at you with that boyish charm of his. You laugh with him, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. The rain has slowed to a drizzle and you're sure if you looked up there'd be at least a faint rainbow from the last few rays of sunlight, but instead you lift yourself up slightly, hands caging Hobie’s head as you both stare into each other’s eyes laughter fading to shaky breaths. 

“Falling for me now Hobart? I knew you were a man of action but there are safer ways to show you love me.” You teased winking, mirth-filled gaze taking him in. Your smile had yet to drop as Hobie scoffed feigning offense at your jest.

“Of course. I'm a man of justice and equality after all, so its only fair i fall for you after catching the angel that fell from the heavens for me.” His grin is cheeky as your laughter fills his ears again. 

“That..was..so..corny!” your shoulders shake as your laughter dies down into giggles. Hobie looks up at you like you hung the moon that currently cast you both in a dim light. 

“You're gonna love the next part then…”

“You better not ask if it hurt when I fell from heaven” you interrupted him with a playful glare only causing his grin to grow.

“Of course not i caught you and broke your fall. I was going to ask if an angel like you gave blessed kisses. Been looking for a miracle lately” he winked as you shook your head in disbelief. 

“You're such a dork!” your smile gave away your amusement and if your cheeks warmed from his cheesy flirting…there was no way to tell it wasn't from the constant smiling or the chill from the rain seeping in finally. You lower yourself down arms still caging his head in as your noses brush. 

“A dork who’s getting a taste of the divine” he grins as he leans up lips brushing yours as he speaks.

“Just shut up and kiss me” You roll your eyes as you lean in closing the space between you two. Your lips meet in what starts as a soft kiss, questioning and exploring as both relax into each other. Hobie rolls the two of you over, one hand coming to rest under your head as he deepens the kiss, the smell of rain and Hobie, earth, and leather fills your senses. You pull him to you gripping wet leather as you let out a pleased hum. Hobie smiles against your lips pulling back before leaning in for another kiss, then another, and another, and another before you’re barely kissing just smiling against the other’s lips. 

“Hobie cut it out!” you laugh turning your head away as he goes to kiss you again, only leading to him, kissing your cheek constantly instead. He puffs up his cheeks holding air as he goes to give one last kiss. Blowing it out and pretending to plant one last wet parting kiss. 

“Oh to be separated so soon. When I'd just gotten my taste of heaven” he leans back, hand over his heart as he dramatically sighs.

“Oh shut up Romeo. Let's get inside before we end up sick together and I have to ask you to be my boyfriend over soup and snotty tissue flowers” You laugh as you push him off, standing up and grabbing the guitar he’d tossed aside to catch you earlier. 

You sniffle as you hand it to him. His smile is blinding as he tosses an arm over your shoulder pulling you into his side to warm you up after putting the guitar over his shoulder. 

“I didn't know angels could catch colds. Maybe I should have asked if you enchanted me with devilish charms instead. I am willing to give you whatever you need~” he wiggles his eyebrows with a mischievous smirk as you smack his chest playfully.

[just-an-anon-reader]

Woah this is literally....beautiful??!! Chef's kiss 👩‍🍳🤌

Octobie Month 🎸

Week 3 : Wild card (any theme I can choose)

(If I remember well lol)

Jazz!Hobie because Why not.

It’s midnight and I have a math exam I forgot it will happen 😭

Here’s a 2nd version I did if anyone cares

Credit to @mushroom-graphics-allotment for the banner and @the-kr8tor for the idea of Octobie :3

See you soon !!

[just-an-anon-reader]

Woooooah this series was so good! And the fight scene was awesome we love the gore

Walls Will Crumble(say the word)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Demon! Hobie x Angel! Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Tags: Cursing, blood, gore (oops), reunions, flashbacks (it's all coming together), death (it's not that bad, I promise), fighting, scared reader, angry reader (furious even), Billie & Ramona, angry hobie, crying, norman osborn (cuz that mf needs his own tag, ew), degradation (screw osborn, real talk), panic attack?? (kinda, but not really), title based off of Don't Think Twice by Hikaru Utada, no physical description of reader (besides clothing), reader is AFAB, sparse use of y/n (just once, promise)

Summary: A century in the dark. A century of loss. A century of longing and aching… It's high time you get the revenge you so deserve, no? A/N: Credits for the lovely banners go to @the-shroom-garden !!! Another late entry for Octobie @the-kr8tor , oops! Billie, Ramona, and third child belong to Katy! Last part of the au that has been keeping me up for several days now🫠💕💕

Part 1 >>> Part 2 >>> Part 3 >>> Part 4

The sound of knocking at your front door startles you slightly, the soapy dish in your hand falling into the sink. Rinsing your hands off and wiping them on a dry dish towel, you walk into the living room of your apartment slowly. You weren't expecting any visitors, especially since your friends have been out of town. “A business trip”, is what they had said when you questioned why all three of them had to leave together, sheepish smiles on their faces. You'd brushed it off and believed them because they actually did work together at a small local clothing shop. Maybe their boss wanted to treat them for their hard work, you weren't sure. Besides, the guilty look in their eyes for having to leave you for three whole months made you weak and quick to reassure them. Even if three months was an absurd amount of time for a business trip.

Peering out of the peephole, you squint your eyes at the sight of a tall man biting on the long nail of his thumb, foot tapping on the doormat. He looked a little nervous and a bit… familiar. You unlock and open your door just enough to peek your head out, the man's head whipping around immediately to meet your eyes. Piercing golden orbs gaze back at you, warm and glittering and oh so familiar. Your mouth drops open as you hurriedly open the door wider, gazing up at the man before you and raising a hand up to gently rest it on his arm. You never thought you'd see him again. After that night you met, you'd gone to see him again a few days later like you promised you would. Only for disappointment and slight concern to fill your chest at the sight of his corn maze burned to the ground, the soil black with the ashes of the burnt plants. There were no remnants of a scarecrow to be seen, just a few burnt straws of hay laying in the very middle. And though the logical side of you tried to remind you that he was a demon and he'd be fine, you still found yourself worrying.

“Hobie…? Y-You didn’t burn to a crisp…?” You whisper softly as you peer up at his face, noting all the little changes. His face looked shaper and a bit fuller, like he'd finally been eating well. He was taller too, the top of your head barely reaching past the middle of his chest. Long locs spilled over his shoulders and down his back instead of the freeform wicks, shimmering crystals weaved into his hair and hanging from the ends. Hobie sports a leather jacket adorned with several pins and spikes, as well as black combat boots with jingling chains dangling off the belt loops of his plaid jeans. He looks good, beyond good. Amazing. You can feel your cheeks warm up a bit as he chuckles lowly, your heart fluttering at the deep voice you'd longed to hear these past few months. He's tender in the way he grips your wrist and guides your hand to rest on his chest, letting you feel the way his own heart flutters beneath your palm.

“I was a good boy, lovie. No eatin’ any angels, remember?” Hobie murmurs as he leans down just a bit while looking down at you through his long lashes, eyes shining with a fondness to them. You roll your eyes as a smile flits across your face.

“How could I forget? You're a demon with morals”, you chuckle as you step back and nod your head, eyes roaming over his appearance once again. “Modern clothes look good on you.” Hobie grins at your words and moves back to do a little twirl, flipping his locs over his shoulder as he bats his eyelashes at you. It makes a loud guffaw leave you as you shake your head. People walking pass give you both weird looks of judgment and you roll your eyes while taking his hand, leading him inside of your apartment. Once inside, he takes both of your hands in his and pulls you close to him, making you raise an eyebrow in question.

“I know it's been a while, angel. I had some things to take care of back home. But thanks to that, I've finally got all my powers back.” Hobie says with a smile before furrowing his eyebrows, gently squeezing your hands as a flicker of something you can't quite name goes across his face. He lowers his eyes to the floor before bringing a hand up to gently caress your cheek. Nuzzling your face in his palm is practically second nature, something in you knowing that this was right. That this was how it should always be. Hobie's molten gaze hypnotized you, his golden eyes swimming with a hint of sadness, a hint of hesitation. Your fingers move to grip the hem of his leather jacket.

“What is it, Hobie…?” You mumble as you feel one of his thumbs grazing your bottom lip. He shakes his head and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as several heartbeats pass between you. Warm lips are pressed against your forehead then, lip piercing cool against your flesh as you melt under his affection. Only, it feels as if your body is suddenly thrown, pushed down into the ground and sinking deep beyond the flooring of your home. You're drowning, the tide is pulling you down into the depths of the abyss. A bubble leaves your lips as you gasp and…

“I'm tellin’ you, love. Somethin’ is wrong with that slimy bastard.”

“Trust me, Hobes. I know…” You sigh in exasperation as you lay down on his lap, the scent of flowers all around you as you both sit in the field of daisies. One of Hobie's hands is buried in your hair, sharp nails gently scratching at your scalp in a soothing way. You can feel your body relaxing as you wrap your large wings around you like a blanket. The sounds of the babbling brook a few feet from your resting area lull you into a sense of calm, much better than how stressed you had been when you came to meet up with Hobie. The demon prince grumbles softly as he brushes a flower petal off of your cheek, frustration battling with the peacefulness of the serene surroundings.

“He's up to somethin’, I just know it. Cause there's no way he's just allowin’ the shit my dad's doing to just happen with no fuss. Startin’ natural disasters, causing war, famine, and disease? Don't even get me started on the monthly demon scares the humans keep talking about…” Hobie sighs and scrubs a hand down his face, anger and suspicion coloring his words as he places his fingers under your chin and tilts your head to look up at him.

“And then there's Osborn’s obsession with you… That I really don't like”, he rumbles lowly, his grumpy expression reminding you too much of a cat. Biting back the giggle that threatens to escape you, you lift a hand up to poke at his cheek.

“It'll pass. Here's hoping he forgets me entirely for someone new. But, you're right. Why is he just overlooking this stuff? The balance is all out of whack. I might have to speak with him about it later”, you mumble, eyes fluttering shut as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. The scene melts away.

You're now thumbing through paperwork, brows furrowed as you try to tally the number of souls that should have been admitted into Heaven. Should have, but are nowhere to be found. Files missing and the count not adding up, you angrily huff and slam the papers down onto the desk. The feathers of your wings ruffle and puff up as you move to search through Osborn’s papers instead, hoping that maybe he has what you're looking for. Thank the stars he's out attending to whatever business he claims he has to see to. If he ever saw you combing through his desk, you're sure his lecture and punishment would have been long.

After minutes of searching, you still don't find the papers you're looking for, a groan leaving your lips as your wings droop a bit. You let out a sigh and pick up one of the files that litter the desk, mindlessly flipping through the pages. It'd do no good to keep searching when you were too tired to do so, a break much needed at the moment. As your eyes flit across the paper, you can't help but notice that it's mentioning the names of the souls that you've been looking for. It makes you sit up straighter, eyes widening as you focus on the context of the scrawny handwriting. A contract. It was a contract. And as you read the full details of what it entails and the signatures written on the very bottom, you can feel your heart thudding in your ears, breath stilling and hands trembling.

Because why in the Almighty’s name did the High Priest think to make a contract with the King Of Demons…?

“ ‘In exchange for the services of aiding in the recruitment of new devotees, I, Norman Osborn, High Priest Of the Archangels and soon to be God of Order, agree to the releasing of the more innocent of souls. A select choice of the finest souls being of infants, virgins, and the highest order of faithfuls shall be bestowed upon the reigning King of Demons monthly, upon completion of aiding the new order. Should either party fail to uphold their end of the agreement, the offender must release unto the other their most treasured possession...’ ”

The whispered words make you sick as you utter them, paper falling from your hands as the information sinks in. It all clicks then. The large amount of disruptions and demon activity on earth, the huge amount of missing souls, the lack of reactivity from the High Priest. Osborn was giving the King free reign to cause havoc, in hopes that humans will see the demons and turn towards faith to pull them through. Faith in a new God who wasn't the Almighty, a God who'd “restore” the peace and order. And all it costs him is the souls of truly innocent people, people and children who earned their eternal rest now damned to an eternal prison. Hobie had been right to be suspicious, right to keep questioning everything. Because now, everything was going to shit.

The sounds of faint footsteps make you jolt, alarms going off in your head as you quickly put the files back in order. You had to tell someone, but who would believe you? Surely not your fellow angels, some who already look at you with jealousy. They could use this knowledge against you, make Osborn punish you for being “disloyal” and falling for “a devil's lies”. No, you had to leave, had to take this with you. Stuffing the papers into your chiton, you quickly open a portal to your hideaway and dart in. Heart pounding furiously, you can feel yourself breaking down when you see Hobie already sitting in the circle of flowers, lying back with his hands behind his head. It's like he can feel your presence when you arrive, body already turning in your direction. He smiles warmly at you and you feel the dam break, hot tears dripping down your face.

Hobie's next to you in an instant, smile gone and eyebrows knitted with concern as he cups your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the tears that continue to fall.

“It's awful, it's awful, Hobie. It's terrible”, you sob as your hands cling to the fabric of his shirt, chest heaving as you gasp with your words. Lips press against your cheek and his deep voice calmly shushes you as he wipes the tears still.

“Breathe, angel. Breathe. I'm right here. Just tell me what's wrong. What's terrible?” He mumbles against your cheek before pressing another kiss to your forehead and another to your other cheek. Before golden eyes gaze calmly into yours. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you calm the frantic beating of your heart.

“You were right. Your suspicion and everything about how messed up everything is was right… And I'm the one who took the only proof of it away…” You breathe out, hands shaky as you reach to hand him the files. Hobie takes the papers from you with a worried look before silently reading what you handed him. His expression darkens as he reads the full contract, fire licking behind his eyes. Clenching the paper in his grip, he looks around before looking back down at you.

“Who else knows of this, love?”

“N-Nobody. I found it in Osborn’s office when I was searching for papers. This is bad, Hobie. He's planning something that's gonna wreck the natural order of things. Becoming a God… It's madness…” Hobie scratches the back of his head before scrubbing a hand over his face. He looks at you with wide eyes then, a flicker of trepidation in his eyes.

“Listen, sweetheart. We gotta leave here. From the Heavens, earth, the Hells, all of it. Nowhere is safe right now. Osborn is gonna figure out that you're the one who took it–”

“–Because I'm the only person with access to his things…” You mutter quietly, fresh tears welling up in your eyes and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Because even if you were now one of the strongest angels besides Osborn, there was no way you could fight all of your peers and make it out alive by yourself. Hobie pulls you close at the look of utter despair on your face, arms wrapping around you tightly and burying his face into your shoulder. He rubs at your back as you silently sob, cooing and reassuring you that it would all be okay.

“He's not gonna find us, lovie. I've got a place in mind, somewhere no one knows about, okay? Do you trust me, angel…?”

“I trust you… I love you…”

“And I love you. Let's get goin’, yeah?” The scene melts away.

Laughter fills the air as you smother your daughters in kisses, raining little pecks on their cheeks as they squeal and try to break free. Hobie watches you three with a dopey grin on his face before cooing at his son, watching little Aiden flap his wings and glide over to him. You and Hobie had found a little sanctuary in a realm just beyond Earth, between Heaven and the Hells. Invisible to most everyone besides those who knew just where to search. It was there that you two decided to make it official, your union evident by the rings adorning your fingers. The rings were special, able to turn into a matching pair of tear shaped necklaces, one with a ruby and the other with a sapphire. It was with your union that you were able to bring your pride and joy into this world. Twin girls, named Billie and Ramona, and a little boy named Aiden. When you first held them, you couldn't imagine a life without them. They were perfect and they were yours, you and Hobie's. You vowed to protect them till your very last breath if it ever came to the day that your peace was shattered.

A trumpet blaring rings in the air, making all of you look up towards the source. And that's when you see it, a large swarm of angels breaking through the barrier of the realm, pieces of its shattered remains falling down from up high as they dive down towards your direction. Fear pierces your heart as your girls grip onto you tighter, anxiety shining in their eyes. You turn to Hobie, who holds Aiden close to his chest, before you both run as far as you can with your children in tow. Eyes glowing a bright white, you conjure up a wall of flowering vines that reach miles high and separates you from the approaching angels.

“Run! Get the children and get out of here!” Hobie yells at you as he hands the frightened toddler in his arms over to you, frantic and in disarray. His hands push at your shoulders, forcing you to turn away. This was it. Osborn had finally found you and now your family was in danger. Shaking your head, you plant your feet firmly on the ground, tears stinging your eyes as they start to spill down your cheeks.

“Not without you!” You sob desperately, trying hard to turn around and face him. Only for his hands to be firm in making you flee. You can smell the scent of smoke in the air, chest heaving as you feel your wall of vines now starting to burn. The fire is spreading too quickly, starting to creep towards the hanging vines adorning your cottage. His hands shake as he pushes you to move, to walk. There's fear in his voice, dripping worry that trickles down into you as his hands on your shoulders slowly dissolve into wriggling spiders.

“I'll find you! Just leave, quickly!” Hobie growls before the spiders on your shoulders scurry away, the sounds of him transforming ringing in your ears as you hold your son closer to you. Heat surrounds you now as you lead your children towards the escape route that you and Hobie had made if something like this were to ever happen. Only, to stop and hold your children close to you as the wood of your cottage splinters and crashes down in front of you, burning planks blocking your way. Fire licks at your cheeks as Billie and Ramona cower by your sides, Aiden wailing his heart out. This was too much for them to be experiencing right now. Heart thundering in your ears, you lead them around the cottage, hoping to get to the brook on the other side. At least, then you'd have a chance of getting out of here. Your hopes are dashed as a horde of angels fly down to surround you all, holy swords and staffs in hand as they close in on you. You know you can't escape them like this with your children in tow, can't fight them off with your arms focused on holding them close.

A hand harshly yanks at your hair, pulling you away at the same time that you feel multiple hands forcing your arms off of your children.

“No! No, no! Let me go!” You scream and kick, trying to get back to them, wings flapping harshly. A cry of pain leaves your lips as you feel a hand ripping and tearing at your feathers, blood dripping into the grass below from your damaged wing. You can hear Billie and little Aiden crying, Mona screaming as you're forced onto your knees. Glowing restraints are placed on you, around your wrists and wings, strings of light wrapped tight around your wriggling form.

“Leave my mummy alone!” Mona screams as energy crackles around her, tears falling down her cheeks and little fists shaking with fear. The angels reach out to hold her back, only to hiss with pain as they touch her arm. Your heart breaks at the sight, her power growing wild and out of control with how terrified she is. You shake your head as she reaches out to you, energy crackling around her fingertips.

“Mona, no. Don't–”

“You produced these abominations, little dove…?” The voice makes your body seize up almost instantly, heart thudding so hard that it aches. A cold sweat breaks on your skin and your breath hitches as the hand in your hair gives a harsh yank, forcing you to look up at the man before you. Icy blue eyes bore into your own, a frown painted on his lips. Osborn places a hand under your chin and forces you to look at your children as he flicks his wrist, a large bubble of light shining into existence around them, trapping them. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, wagging his finger at them when Aiden and Billie scream, the powerful sound making their prison vibrate harshly.

“Surely, that devil poisoned your ear and forced himself upon you. You didn't allow him into your bed. Right, my dove…?” Osborn says as he looks you over, but by the way his smile doesn't reach his eyes, you can tell he already knows the truth. With trembling lips and your instincts to protect your young rising, you sneer up at the High Priest with hate flickering in your eyes like an ember.

“You don't care about that. You just care about what I know!” Norman raises an eyebrow and sweeps a hand to gesture at the trembling twins holding their baby brother close.

“Why would I not care? My little dove, now with filth for offspring? And a demon prince who's been frothing at the mouth, trying to make us leave you alone? I am nothing but concerned, little dove.” As he leans in, you take the opportunity to spit in his face, a smirk on your lips as the saliva drips down his cheek.

“Don't you ever call my children outside of their names”, you hiss, the words sounding like a curse between your teeth. Osborn sighs and wipes your spit away with his thumb before more feathers are viciously plucked from your wings. You cry out as warmth dribbles down your back, blood splattering onto the flowers beneath you.

“So, he has poisoned you. A shame. You have such a bright light inside you, the brightest I've ever seen. It's now contaminated, I see.” Smoke forms thick clouds that drift in the air and you can hear Hobie shouting in the distance. Your children crying for you fill your ears as you look up, heart shattering as you watch the cottage you built with love crumble to the ground, flowers crushing and burning under the lit wood. Several more angels come toward you then, a tall cube made of pure light floating behind them. Hobie's snarling and banging on the walls of his prison, skin burning from the holy magic used to keep him at bay. He's snapping his teeth and roaring as his body constantly shifts, little spiders shaping into a swarming mass before wriggling into the form of massive creatures, then going back to him banging against the walls.

The enraged demon's eyes shift to his three little ones being held at bay before drifting over to you. You can see the way his golden eyes morph into seething crimson slits as Osborn raises his staff at you, voice booming loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Little dove, thou bearest a great sin indeed. For permitting a devil into thy bed and giving life to foulblood nephalems, thy light has died. In the Almighty’s name, no longer shall thee be permitted to adorn his heavenly skies.” Your lips tremble and you scream as more feathers are plucked from you, pain making your head spin. Hobie bangs even harder, shouts even louder.

“That's bullshit! You don't speak for the Almighty, fuckin’ snake! Get away from them! Don't touch my family!” The demon roars, all boiling rage and dripping despair. “Osborn! I'll rip you apart!” You can hear as he struggles, trying hard to get to you even as his skin sizzles and the children cry in the distance. A piercing scream rings through the air and now you're falling from up high, tears dripping from your eyes as you gasp. It feels like hundreds of hands are dragging you down, your deadly descent to the ground impending. You reach your hand towards the sky and…

Your chest heaves as you feel yourself finally being snapped back into your body, gasps leaving you as you stumble backward. Gentle hands hold your waist as you clench your eyes shut, the memories flooding you like a tidal wave. With shaky hands, you grip onto Hobie's arms tightly for support as you try to calm down the thundering of your heart. Tears, hot and thick, cascade down your cheeks as you feel your wings, your wings, emerge from your back, one of the appendages almost completely featherless. You reach up to touch your ruby necklace with shaky fingers, your other hand patting Hobie's chest to find his sapphire one sparkling beneath his shirt. And as you look up with teary eyes to gaze into his watering golden ones, you don't speak for several moments. Because finally, finally, you remember everything. Every foggy detail shines under a new light, every missing piece now clicked into place.

“Hobie… My Hobie”, you breathe out softly as you lift a hand to tenderly cup his cheek, heart aching as he nuzzles his face into your palm. His lips tremble as he smiles and nods his head, one of his hands resting on the back of your neck.

“That's right, angel. Your Hobie… Just yours”, he whispers, voice wavering with unshed tears that finally fall as he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss. Both of his hands move to hold your face as he tilts your head back, kisses leaving you breathless and dazed. All of his frustration, all of his longing, all of his yearning. You can feel it all pouring into you, making you press yourself closer as you kiss each other senseless. It's like time stops, the world stilling just for the two of you. Nothing else matters, not when the love of your life, your fate, holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world to him. When you finally break away for air, your hands roam his face and hair, eyes looking him over as if you truly couldn't believe he was with you once again.

“H-How did you find me? Where have you been? Oh my days, where are the kids? Billie and Ramona? Little Aiden…?” Hobie shushes your bombard of questions with another kiss, chuckling at the way you practically melt because of it. Pulling you over to the couch, you both sit down as he shares what happened to him during the century following your fall. Hobie tells you of how he'd been taken to his father by the angels and punished to haunt the earth for the rest of his days, consuming souls his only way of nourishment. He tells you how his friends, Ned, Riri, and Serenity had followed him to earth in order to help get him back home. Of how he had them show Osborn’s contract to a group of angels who regretted tearing your family apart and how his friends went to find you, promising to watch over you as Hobie regained his strength. Hobie reveals how he had to conserve the brightest of souls that entered his maze in order to break the curse placed over him and the maze, how seeing you again for the first time in years had let him know he was finally ready to make his move.

“For the past three months, I've been gatherin’ forces to help take down my father and Osborn. Demons and angels alike, if you can believe it. Becomin’ King gave me the power to give you back your memories and the ability to shape his realm however I like. I've turned it into one we can all live happily in. Like before…” Your eyes soften at his words, the thought of Hobie doing everything he could to reunite your family making your heart swell. His hands caress your cheeks as he looks down at you with pure adoration and burning affection, devotion to you and only you screaming from the way his touches are as soft as silk. Golden gaze, a liquid pool of warmth that you're all too happy to dive in.

“Chaos, Mayhem, and the little terror are at home waitin’ for you, lovie. Why don't we go see ‘em, hm?” Hobie hums against your lips as he leans down to peck your lips once, twice, three times before leaning back just a bit. And everything in you screams to do what he's saying, wanting nothing more than to hold your little ones close and never let go. And yet…

“Not yet”, you mumble quietly, brows furrowing and a small frown on your lips. A grim look washes over your features, Hobie's thumbs grazing your brow to try and smooth the look off of your face. You shake your head and peer up at him sadly.

“Not until we're safe. We'll never be safe while Osborn still lives and I couldn't bear to face them until it's all over. He called them filth…” You say, seething as the memory ignites a fire within you. A need to see the man who dared speak ill of your children and love rot like a festering corpse. Hobie's deep voice rumbles in his chest as he peers at you with slight concern.

“Are you sure, angel? You don't have to fight if you don't want to.”

“I want to. I need to see him bleed. He's done too much harm to not only us, but the balance of the realms in general. We're making that bitch grovel.” You say with a huff, a determined gleam in your eyes. Hobie chuckles and nods his head, pressing his lips against your forehead softly.

“That's my girl.”

The next two weeks are spent at an abandoned building in the countryside planning for the coup d'état, rebel Archangels and demons working side by side to end Osborn’s schemes. Serenity, Ned, and Riri were there when you arrived holding hands with Hobie, all three of them rushing to pull you both in a hug. They rained apologies on you for leaving you alone for so long, which you just dismissed. It was for a good reason, after all. They all help you train your powers again, rusty after having gone so long without them.

“Strange how I still have divine powers”, you mumbled as you dodged a blow to the face from Riri, who growled angrily. For someone who was rusty, you were still pretty good at being slippery. Even if you absolutely loathe him, Norman's teachings truly didn't fail you. Hobie shrugs from his perch on the windowsill, munching on a bright blue fruit that weirdly enough smelled just like coconuts and cream. A fruit from the Hells, no doubt.

“Well, that fallin’ from grace bullshit wasn't at all justifiable, ‘specially comin’ from that wanker”, he huffs before letting out a low impressed whistle as he watches you conjure two whips made of pure light, snaking the weapons around Riri’s legs and yanking them to make her fall on her back. The cambion groans as her head falls back into the dirt, dust settling in her curls. You give her a teasing smile and blow a kiss to her when she flips you off, getting back up with a scowl on her lips. You spend the last few days training and taking walks with Hobie, thoughts drifting to your kids that were waiting for you at your new home. It made you strengthen your resolve, knowing that you had people you needed to protect. You had finally gotten your family back and nothing was going to come between you all ever again.

The day for the rebellion finally rolls around, your heart hammering in your chest as you finish wrapping the sash around your enchanted robes. All black and white ombre with long sleeves that end up wrapping around your fingers, intricate gold vines etched into the fabric. Long black boots on your feet and the ruby necklace shining brightly around your neck, you sigh as you gaze at your reflection in the mirror. Your damaged wings mock you as they flutter uselessly, anger and trepidation swirling in your eyes as you bite your lip. Today was the day. Osborn was going to pay for everything he'd done to you, to Hobie, to your children. To all those unfortunate humans that were unknowingly a part of his dastardly schemes. You were ready to end it all. But why did you still feel so… scared…?

“Almost ready, love?” Hobie's warning voice rouses you out of your musings, giving him a small smile as you turn around to face him. Perhaps it doesn't reach your eyes, because his smile falls as he nears you, golden orbs glinting with sympathy.

“What is it, angel?” He asks softly as he takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Breath hitching, you shake your head and sigh.

“I don't know why I'm scared, but I am. Osborn, he's… powerful. What if we fail? What if you get hurt?” Hobie tilts his head and chuckles, taking your hand and placing it on his chest, letting you feel the beating of his heart beneath your palm.

“Feel that? ‘S beatin’ like crazy ‘cause I'm worried too. I'm scared too. I don't wanna lose you again, after finally havin’ you in my arms after all this time.” He wraps his arms around you this time and pulls you close, so that your ear is pressed against his chest. You can hear his racing heart, feel the way his body shakes ever so slightly. Though he did a good job of masking it, he truly was terrified. Terrified of having his reunited family ripped from his fingers like a cruel joke, as though he hadn't suffered enough.

“We gotta believe we're stronger than him, lovie. ‘M gonna fight for you and the kids till my last breath. I promise you, he won't touch you while ‘m ‘ere. Never again.” Hobie whispers into your ear as his fingers tenderly graze the base of your damaged wings, making you choke back a sob. You'd fight for him. For your children, for everything. Until your last breath, no matter what. The two of you share more hushed promises and whispers of reassurance before Ned announces that it's time, the two of you walking back to where everyone else waits. Hobie squeezes your hands and moves to stand on the broken crates in front of your battalion of rebels. Everyone quiets down at the sight of him, standing up straighter and looking up at him expectantly.

“For too long, we have stood by and allowed him to do as he pleases. Too long have we had to endure as he uses us for his benefit. Too long have we watched as he shattered hopes and dreams and destroyed the very realms we work hard to keep from crumbling.” Hobie's words echo in the abandoned barn and seep into your very soul. There's a fire in those gold eyes, an inferno that begs to be unleashed.

“No more. No more will we sit idly while he rips our lives apart. No more will we agree with his outlandish rules that he claims brings peace. Norman Osborn is trying to become what he is not and never will be. A God. A God that is so twisted that he would damn innocents. So cruel that he would allow the killings of children and pregnant mothers.” Raising a fist into the air, his voice booms throughout the building, rallying the unit as they cheer and holler.

“Today, we free our realms from the oppressor! Today, we fight for the right to love, the right to live! Today, we end the snake that dares to claim he speaks for the Almighty! Today, we kill Norman Osborn!” The room erupts into cheers and yells, weapons and claws alike lifted high into the air as portals spin to life on either side of him. Your heart sings, your will strong and spirit invigorated with overwhelming morale. And as the rebels charge through the portals, Hobie takes your hand in his firmly. Sharing one last look, you both run into the portals, giving a roaring cry as you head for battle.

There's chaos all around you as you emerge, blood and bodies already littering the cloudy grounds of his throne room. The clanging of metal and the battle cries of the warriors. Rebels fighting against the ones that serve Osborn faithfully, both angel and demon alike. A scream rings in your ear as an angel charges at you, sword raised high and aimed for your chest. A blur whizzes pass you, Hobie quick to dispatch him with a thrust of his sharp nails to his chest. The angel chokes as blood spills from his lips, crimson ichor spilling onto the fluffy clouds as Hobie throws his body to the side. Something shines in the corner of your eye and you turn to see an arrow made of light aimed for Hobie's back. Brows furrowing and a snarl forming on your lips, you zip to stand in front of the arrow, divine energy crackling at your fingertips. A shield of pure light shimmers into existence in your hands, reflecting the projectile with ease. Clenching the shield in your fist, you pull your arm back and throw, the chucked weapon hitting the angel in the head hard enough to visibly dent her head in. She crumples to the ground as more charge at you, trampling over her body.

Hobie snarls as more enemies charge him from the front, body losing its shape to morph into a swarm of spiders. The spiders wriggle and scurry to morph into a frothing wolf, arachnids writhing to form eyes and a dripping maw that mauls anyone who dares get close to you. In turn, you're covering him from behind, chucking daggers and firing arrows into the hearts of those who dare to harm your demon. One has a blade too close to your neck and swiftly has teeth twisting its head off, Hobie's panther form flickering in and out of view as it lunges for another victim. The sight of a sword aiming for the demon's middle has you shooting out a hand to form a glittering sphere around the offender, fist closing tightly causing the sphere to close in on him until he's nothing but blood and gristle. There's a shout from above and you hurriedly look up as three angels rain divine beams of energy down on you two. With a swipe of your hand, a bubble appears over your heads, absorbing the energy from the blasts. The three look nervous as they see the smirk playing on your lips before you flick your wrist, a devastating beam of light incinerating the offenders. A whirlwind of spiders circle around you as more enemies try to flank you from all sides, the arachnids crawling into every orifice of the angels that they find, eating them from the inside out.

The swarm dissipates, Hobie gripping your arm and pointing to the throne. There stands Osborn, holy staff fighting off and impaling anyone who gets too close. Cold blue eyes almost white with a fury you've never seen as he grips a rebel by the face, skin melting off the bone from his touch as he pours out divine energy to maim and kill. The rebel screams as their flesh bubbles and festers, arm wildly swinging a blade to no avail. And through it all, Osborn’s holy robes remain pristine and white, untouched and unsullied.

His chilling gaze sweeps over to you then, a flicker of a smile ghosting his thin lips as he lifts his staff to point at you, hand flinging away the now still rebel. You grit your teeth as you blast an angel that gets too close to Hobie, eyes never leaving Norman as he outstretches his hand to you. A seemingly kind gesture, if these were different circumstances. But you can tell, can see nothing but the condescending mockery in his icy gaze. Your hands tremble with a mix of fear and trepidation and a glance at Hobie tells you that he's feeling it too. Fear now dissolving into fury and whips of pure light shimmering into your hands, you charge at Osborn, damaged wings flapping hard behind you. The black vortex of raging arachnids follow close behind you, the furious sound of spiders scurrying enough to raise the hair on the back of anyone's necks.

“Osborn!” Hobie roars as the spiders morph and twist into his form, eight sharp spider legs protruding from his back and mouth now adorning a pair of dripping spider fangs. His golden eyes are crimson slits of rage as he extends his claws, close by your side as you both dart towards the smirking Archangel. Osborn lifts his staff to block the cracking of your whip, letting it coil around it and yanking it so that it slips from your grasp. Gritting your teeth, you transform the whip that's still in your hand into a dagger. Hobie uses his claws to swipe at the older angel, who dodges each blow and shoots a hand out to wrench the dagger from your hands like it was magnetized. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he thrust the dagger forward, aiming for the demon's chest and furrowing his brows when his arm is suddenly covered in spiders.

Hobie's form morphs lightning quick, becoming a massive bat with gleaming fangs that viciously bites Osborn’s flesh. Snarl twisting his lips, he goes to swat him away, only for you to coil a chain around his wrist and twist it around hard. You can hear the way his bone snaps, the sound wet and making him howl with pain. He's quick to heal the broken bone, divine energy an aura around him. Heart pounding in your ears, you see Hobie form into a panther in order to rip a chunk of flesh from the angel's calf. Norman drops down to his knee before grabbing your demon by the neck, the inky black fur sizzling in his grip as the panther yowls with pain.

Energy pulses between your hands as you conjure a bow and arrow, pulling the bowstring back and releasing the glistening arrow. It sings as it flies through the air, hitting Osborn right in the hand on your love's neck. The Archangel howls as the arrow pierces his flesh, the arrowhead poking straight through the side of his palm. He lets go of Hobie with a grimace, hand shooting out a powerful gust of wind that blasts your demon several feet away from him. His injured state leaves him open and you take the opportunity to summon a glittering sword that thrums with divine energy, rushing over to him with a furious look gleaming in your eyes. Only for his whispered words to make you seize up, goosebumps breaking across your flesh.

“This is not what I envisioned for you, little dove. You must know that, yes?” Norman says with a kind smile, icy blue eyes devoid of emotion betraying his soft spoken words. Still, the nickname is enough to make you hesitate, make the memories of constantly being harassed and punished by him flood back into your mind all too quickly. Your hands shake and your breath quickens as you try to reign in the feeling of helplessness suddenly threatening to drown you. He's uttered those words plenty of times before, times where he'd lock you into a room and scar you while kissing the marks he left as punishment for not being how he wanted you to be. For not abiding by his rules. For not giving yourself to him everytime he asked. The times when he'd degrade you for failing to master things he'd teach you, yell at you while his hands dug into your scalp. It felt like walls were closing in on you and you couldn't move, your sword falling between trembling fingers as unshed tears stung your eyes.

“Y/N, look out!” Hobie's shout makes you peer up, only for a piercing scream of agony to leave your lips, your quivering wings severed and clutched in the Archangel's fist. Blood oozes down your back and seeps into your robes as you fall to the ground, writhing in pain. Teeth bared and eyes glowing bright with boiling rage, Hobie roars and lunges at Osborn, eager to wipe the sick grin off his face. Norman makes a low sound of disapproval and wags a finger at him before light bursts from his fingers, a beam of divine energy shooting the demon in his chest and leaving a gaping wound. He screams as the light sears his flesh way too close to his heart for comfort, his pained cries making your heart freeze with fear. Your screams of terror for your love almost being killed turns into a roar of white hot wrath that practically boils you from the inside out.

You're a blur of fury as you roll onto your knees and shoot a ray of sparkling light at Norman's thigh, the beam searing his skin and leaving a bloodied hole. You shoot another at his shoulder as you jump to your feet, then another to his side. Wrath incarnate, you litter him full of holes, divine rays leaving chunks of his flesh to drip onto his throne. And as he stumbles back to trip on his self-made throne of gold and ivory, you summon your sword back into your hands. With one last shout, you thrust the weapon deep into his middle, crimson ichor seeping into the white fabric of his robes. Blood and roses scent the air as the fighting of the rebels cease, all eyes watching as Osborn looks into the face of his once highly adored angel.

“F-Filthy sinner”, the dying Osborn says with an astounded chuckle, spitting blood onto your face as it bubbles up his throat and spills past his pale lips. Your chest heaves as you look down at the Archangel, your severed wings still tight in his grip. Blood splatters onto his robe as he coughs, blue eyes radiating malice and contempt as he sneers at you.

“You could have had it all. If you'd been obedient and joined me. I could've reached true Godhood with an angel so pure and bright as you on my arm, in my corner. Now you're nothing but defiled waste.” His strained words almost make you want to laugh and you tilt your head at him, something akin to pity shining in your eyes as you twist the sword deeper.

“You're a fool, Norman. A fool to think you could get away with hurting those I love. Where's all your faith now, when you need it most? Clearly not giving you any strength right now.” You mumble before chuckling and letting the sword dissipate into a flutter of sparkles. There's a low rumble of a growl behind you, little barks that sound close to a laugh. A hyena's laugh.

“This is what happens when you try to play God and disrupt the balance of things.” Is what you mumble as you feel a massive presence looming over your shoulder. Osborn trembles at the sight of the creature behind you, prayers to the Almighty stumbling between his blood speckled lips as he holds out a shaking hand for mercy. You have none to give and neither does the growling form of Hobie, his massive hyena form black and dripping with an inky mist that spreads a terrifying shadow. Drool dribbles from his mouth as he licks at his chops, maw open and ear flicking. Patting your demon's furry cheek, you lean down towards the frightened Osborn, lips near his ear.

“The Almighty hath forsaken thee, High Priest”, you whisper in his ear before stepping back, watching as the hyena stalks forward, the sinister laugh of the creature making the fallen Archangel whimper. Norman begs and pleads for mercy and forgiveness, none that are afforded to him as Hobie descends upon him. Sharp teeth tearing at flesh and snapping bones, claws ripping apart organs and gore dribbling down the throne. And as you watch Hobie devour him whole bones and all, you're suddenly called into a void of white. Eyes frantically looking about, you're shocked at the looming silhouette of an entity gazing down at you. It's massive and towers higher than any mountain you'd ever seen. The entity bows its head in respect, in thanks before you're suddenly forced back into your body with a shaking gasp.

Body shaking and back arching, you cry out as you feel something pushing forth from your back, your spine. It feels like you'll explode if you don't let it out, your eyes rolling as it sprouts free from it's confines. Stumbling and shaking your head to clear the dizziness, your chest heaves before you feel something familiar. A weight that had been missing for years. Hobie's next to you then, wriggling spiders shaping him into his normal form once again. The hole in his chest is slowly closing up, the energy he got from devouring Osborn healing him. His eyes are wide as he looks at you in awe.

“Lovie… Your wings..!” His words make your heart soar with hope and you quickly wrap them around yourself in order to look at them, the action second nature even after seemingly loosing them. A gasp leaves your lips as you look at what has sprouted from you. Large glittering wings that sparkle. As you move them, the feathers switch between a pristine white to a shimmering black, then back again. Any time you moved a certain way, the color changed. And inside your heart, you know who the entity was.

Everything that happens next is a blur to you then, you who were exhausted from the draining battle. The remaining Archangels that sided with Osborn are locked up, plans to give them a chance at repentance being discussed. Ned, Serenity and Riri talk with the rebel angels in their King’s stead, negotiating terms of peace and planning clean up crews on earth. Hobie pulls you into an embrace that seems to make your knees weak, exhaustion making your bones ache as you sag against him. It was finally over. Osborn couldn't hurt you or Hobie or your children anymore. Your love lifts you into his arms, carrying you over to the swirling portal that led to your new home, where your children await. Where, after a century of waiting, your life with Hobie can finally be resumed.

[just-an-anon-reader]

Woah...that was epic!! That was so much fun to read so spookyyyyy 💀👻

Also...maybe I've been playing too much of the until dawn remake? But Miranda saying it was a joke, all I heard was

"its just a prank paste!"

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.3k

Summary: A camping trip with your so-called friends takes a turn from harmless taunting to gore filled stabbing.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), slasher AU, Horror elements, CW bullying, CW food mentions, TW death, TW blood and gore, CW violence. Set in the 80s, CW animal death, drug mention.

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

Music blares in your ears through your headphones as the car passes by numerous pine trees along the road. You flick your eyes over to the rearview mirror when you felt eyes on your face. Sure enough, Flash's smiling eyes stare at you through the mirror. And when you hear muffled giggling, you already know where the delighted laughter is coming from.

As you glance at the passenger seat, Miranda's amused grin greets you. Her blond hair bounces as she tries to play innocent. Even with your music murmuring their words, you know that they're talking about you. So you slyly press pause on your walkman, with their chortling they barely heard the click of the button.

“God, purple isn't doing her any favours. I can't believe we're sharing the same car as the freak.” Andy, a jock like Flash, sneers right behind you as he sits at the far end with the luggage because of his size. “That's the color right, babe?”

His girlfriend, Quinn snorts in her seat next to you. “She’s wearing navy blue, babe. And yes that sweater looks fucking ugly, it's so 1975. I think I saw my grandma wear that once.” She twists in her seat to face her boyfriend, elbow hitting your cheek, but you pretend that it didn't happen for your sanity. She doesn't even mention it. “Are you sure you didn't hit your head during the game?”

Andy puts his arms on your headrest, and again, you get hit by elbows. You're starting to hate your club advisor for putting you in the same car as the people who never even wanted to be part of the forestry club in the first place. They joined because your club was unfortunate enough to have less members and therefore was the target of the popular clique because they were ‘too busy’ to pick a required club lest they don't graduate at the end of the year. Oh how you wish you were in the same van as Thena even though she smells like swiss cheese. But alas, you drew the short end of the stick.

“Or maybe he fell on his head when he was a baby.” Emma says nonchalantly with a book in her hands. She's kind of alright to you, only because she doesn't speak or even look at you.

Miranda giggles in the passenger seat while her boyfriend Flash laughs with her.

“I'm color blind, bitch!” Andy yells, making you wince.

“Yeah, he's color blind!” His girlfriend Quinn agrees. You feel like your head is being split open by her shrill voice. You long for swift death in this car.

“That's your comeback, bruv?” Flash eggs Andy on, you worry that his attention isn't fully on the road.

“W-what? You got a better one, fucker?”

“W-w-what?!” Flash says mockingly. A round of laughter echoes around the small wagon, and you swear you heard Andy growl at the guy. You kind of feel bad for the big guy, if he wasn't such an asshole to you.

More than annoyed, you press play on your walkman as they continue to bicker. Punk music filters through your ears and for a moment you feel alright. But this time Miranda hears the click, your former childhood friend turns to look at you with a condescending smirk.

“Welcome back to the real word, Paste.”

You hate that nickname so much, you wanted to throw the walkman at her face. But you take the high ground and just ignore her like you always do. That damned nickname. She thinks she's so clever for thinking of it when you two were just nine when she caught you scooping out a dollop of paste for a birthday card you were making. She thought that you were about to eat it, hence the nickname, Paste. The birthday card was for her, too bad the trashcan ended up receiving it.

“I told you not to call me that—”

“Bitch, look out!” Andy's gruff voice is grating in your ears, his yell trumps out your music as Andy swerves the steering wheel.

“Shit!” Miranda clutches at her seat belt as you see a deer standing right in the middle of the road.

“Fuck!” Emma, holds on to the front seat just as the car goes sideways, tires skidding on the asphalt, blackened smoke coming out of the rubber.

“Mother fucker!” You brace yourself as the chorus of the music in your ears crescendos, and a tree trunk gets dangerously close to the front of the car. “No—!”

You fall into darkness.

—

You hear an animalistic groan the second you're conscious. Eyes fluttering open, you're met with Emma's flashlight flashing on your face.

“She's awake!” She yells as she roams her eyes over your form from outside the car.

“How long was I out?” You touch your throbbing forehead. It aches but thankfully you don't find blood.

“Just a few minutes, sleeping beauty.” This is the longest time she has had a conversation with you. Her blue hair glistens in the afternoon sun as she opens the door for you. “You hurt anywhere?”

You shake your head. “I'm good…I think.”

She sighs, “good, up and at ‘em.”

You take it one tiny step at a time, once your hiking boots hit the grass, you assess the damage of the car. The hood is busted from the tree curved around the metal. The engine is smoking and the lights are smashed to pieces. There's also a huge scratch on the side of it. Mrs. Williams is gonna kill the whole lot of you when she sees her car.

“Oi, Paste!” You roll your eyes at Flash's call.

“I told you not to call me that—!” The second you turn around and set your eyes on the barely alive deer in the middle of the road, you swallow thickly at the poor animal.

“Gnarly, right?” Flash grins, but when he glances at the deer his smile fades. “What are we going to do with it?”

“Should we bury it?” Quinn says whilst hidden behind her boyfriend.

“It’s still alive.” Your eyes never leave the gasping animal. Crossing the small distance, still wobbly in your feet, you tilt your head at its large wound. Even doctor Dolittle can't fix this.

“What do you suggest we do then, Paste?” Miranda side eyes you. “We can't call for help. There's no payphone in sight!” She stomps her foot like a child. “Gah! I should've joined the homemakers club instead of forestry!”

Emma nudges you, “I think I know what Y/N here is thinking.”

“You do?” You furrow your brows.

“You speak freak now, Emma?” Quinn sneers.

You ignore her. “We should end its misery.”

“Fuckin' hell, mate!” Flash gestures wildly at the deer. “It's still alive, maybe if we wait for Mrs. Williams and the others—”

“They might have already passed this place because you and princess here kept needing bathroom breaks.” You blurt out. Miranda and Flash scoff with a shake of their bottle blond heads.

“Woah!” Emma clasps your shoulder. And you flinch away from her touch.

“Paste here has some fire in her!” Quinn joins in, queasiness gone. Queasy Quinn, you should call her that.

With a clenched jaw, you bend down to retrieve your butterfly knife from your boot. Flipping it open, you roam your eyes at the bewildered group.

“Damn.” Andy whistles lowly. His girlfriend punches his bicep.

“Who's gonna do it?” You ask, the deer continues to wheeze out. Its blood now slowly inching its way over to your feet.

“Not me!” They simultaneously say with their index finger pointing at their noses.

You're camping with a bunch of children it seems. With a sigh, you kneel down next to the deer. Looking into its deep brown eyes, it's a sea that threatens to pull you under its sympathy. Your hand settles atop its blood coated fur, matted under your touch, warm and still oozing with fading life. It huffs at you, bleating like it's pleading to be spared, or be taken out of its misery. Whatever it was, you swiftly stab it in its carotid artery right on its neck, as if you've done it a million times before.

The group's disgusted yells and groans fade in your senses as its crimson flows from the wound down to your knife and hand. It's still warm, you feel like you're death itself. The poor deer stops twisting and kicking, finally falling limp in your hands.

Your blood rushes in your ears, pulse thumping like the beat of drums. Something inside you awakens from its dormant state you've forced it inside your ribcage. It flutters right out of its crystalline cocoon, beginning to fly out, trying to escape the confines of your serrated flesh. Breath running warm, you take out your knife from its body.

“Freak,” Miranda taunts under her breath, you can feel that a part of her is afraid. Does she not realize you're the one holding the bloodied knife?

“You looked like you enjoyed that one, Paste.” Her boyfriend agrees, you send them a tensed glare. They both look away from you. You can feel the fear behind their distant eyes.

“Your sweater is wasted.” Quinn raises a brow with an amused glint in her eyes. “Good, it was ugly anyway.”

You stare at your blood soaked sleeve. “I'll go get cleaned up.”

“You better, you smell like a dead rat.” Andy scoffs, arm slung over his girlfriend's shoulders.

“Go, we'll manage here.” Emma says without looking in your direction, eyes trained on the now dead deer, disgusted by its guts flowing out of its many wounds.

You walk back towards the car where your bag is. Once you reach it, you fall on your knees behind the car to avoid any more teasing from your so-called club mates. Weirdly enough, you don't feel shaken by it, nor disgusted like the rest of them. It's a weird feeling. You haven't felt this way in a long time. But this feeling, this enlightened feeling brings you a familiar comfort, bringing you back to your summer camp days.

After collecting your thoughts, you change into a turquoise windbreaker, blood all wiped clean by a wet handkerchief. Once you hide the knife back inside your boot, you return to the rest of the group with your backpack slung over your shoulder. The tin water bottle and skillet clangs against each other, signaling your return.

“Took you long enough,” Quinn says in her high pitched voice that is glass breakingly worthy. “We came up with a plan.” You didn't even know that they're all capable of thinking. “So we thought that we could wait here for the rest of the club to rescue us—”

“Bad idea.” You cut her off. Their eyes are all on you, and you almost shrunk down from their stares. “I–I think we should hike towards the campsite. We have a better chance of meeting up with them that way. We can't wait out here in the cold, especially since we don't know if they've already passed here.”

“Makes sense.” Emma agrees, still avoiding your eyes. Was that fear?

“But that's so far though!” Miranda kicks at a pebble like a petulant child.

You clench your jaw. “Then wait here, I'll hike up to the campsite.” Fixing your hold on your pack, you start walking away. “Don't blame me when you're all freezing to death.”

“Wait for me!” Emma calls after you, running towards the car to get her own pack.

“Not you too, Emma!”

“I'd rather stay with the survivalist than the cheerleaders!”

“Damnit,” Flash curses under his breath while the rest of them look at him, waiting for a plan. “I hate to say it, but she has a point. We have no idea how to even light a fire. But Paste here can.”

You walk quicker when you hear them following you. If you could sprint away, you would've. But alas, you need to conserve every bit of energy you have to trudge through the last miles towards the designated campsite.

Emma walks side by side with you, well, a few steps apart from you. She's silent for the most part except for her lingering gaze on the side of your face. The rest are already arguing behind you after five minutes of walking. Of course they're arguing about the single granola bar that Miranda packed for herself.

You deafen them out in your ears, wishing that the birds would sing louder in the trees to tamp out their voices. You'd put on your headphones but it broke in half during the crash. The air smells fresh in the forest, with the wind brushing along your cheeks like a gentle kiss. You smile gently at the peace, mind cleared of anything but the road in front of you.

Once the asphalt road transitions to a dirt road, it's now a real hike as your group sees the sign that reads, ‘jumping spider campgrounds.’

“Spider?” Quinn shrieks behind you and the peace is broken. “Please don't tell me this camp grounds is full of spiders!”

You realize that she's talking to you. “It's just the name.”

“You sure, Paste?” Flash questions you in a teasing tone. “They named it that for a reason.”

“Augh!” Quinn scampers behind her boyfriend.

You clench your hand on the strap of your backpack. “I've been here a few times and I've only seen two spiders.”

“Two is too much!” Quinn screams. At least no wild animal would come near the group with her voice ringing out through the entire forest. Unless there are wolves running about, then you'd hide behind Andy too. You're sure the wolves would like to eat him first.

With a headache blooming on the top of your head, you finally make it to the campsite after two and a half hours of walking. It's a small clearing in the middle of the woods with a few picnic tables set up and a dilapidated looking restroom sitting in the corner. Instead of Thena waving at you enthusiastically, there's no one in the campsite. A chill runs down your spine. You suppose it's the cold.

“Fuck.” You utter as you find out that the entire place sits empty without your other club mates and advisor.

Miranda and the rest push past you, shoving you to the side to look for a soul in the campsite.

“No! What the fuck!” Andy screams as he looks under a picnic table.

Emma stands in the middle of the clearing, hands gripping her blue hair. “Maybe they're running late?”

“Two hours late even though they were definitely right in front of us?” For once, Miranda says something right.

“Or maybe we're in the wrong campsite!” Quinn comes out of the bathroom with her hands shaking.

“Or they're out hiking already!” Flash crumples down to his feet, looking disheveled.

Then, all their eyes meet yours simultaneously. Their eyes shimmer under the sun, a slight blue hue falling on each of their faces.

You blink, lips slightly agape. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” Miranda walks over to you, pointing stiffly at your chest. “Where are they, hm?”

“How should I know? I was with you all the entire time. I can't communicate with them telepathically!” You immediately defend yourself.

“What the fuck should we do now?” Emma huffs, hands braced on the picnic table. Again, they all stare at you, as if you hold all the answers.

You don't know what to do either. “We should wait for them. They could just be running late. Or maybe they took a wrong turn—”

“God! I should've just joined table tennis!” Miranda exhales out, words carrying out into the woods.

“Listen.” You try to get their attention again. Which surprisingly enough, they give to you. “We should make camp and build a fire. The cold could kill us out here—”

“The cold?!” Miranda screams again, this time in your face. “You're worried about the bloody cold? We could get eaten by bears! Or fucking spiders!”

“If you could just listen for a second—!”

“I'm gonna look for a payphone.” Flash grabs Miranda, leading her further into the campsite.

“There are no payphones out here—!”

“I need to fucking piss.” Andy interrupt you.

“Don't fucking leave me out here!” His girlfriend follows closely behind.

You huff with a groan, frustrated at the situation. One moment they're listening to you, the next they're walking out into the woods.

“I'll set up the tents.” Emma says from the side. “I don't want to freeze to death.” She takes out her folded tent inside her pack. Clearing her throat, she looks at you. “Do you want me to set up yours?”

“Would you?” You ask with trepidation, what if she fills your tent with dirt and rocks?

“Yeah, sure. My dad used to take me out camping. I hated it but at least I learned some basic survival skills.”

“Like pitching up a tent?”

She chuckles nervously. “Exactly!” Coughing, she walks over to you to take your tent. “No tricks, I don't want you to freeze too.”

With slight apprehension, you give her your tent. Bag still slung over your shoulder, as much as you trust her right now, you don't trust her to give her your entire supply for surviving out here.

“I'll find some firewood and build a fire.” You say, rubbing your arms up and down for warmth.

“‘kay, watch out for jumping spiders. Or just regular spiders.” She jokes, managing to make you smile.

“I have bug spray with me, I'm sure I'll be fine.” Walking away, you head towards the left side of the forest where it's more familiar to you. Getting lost is the last thing you'll need here, especially when you're partnered up with people who wouldn't notice that you're gone.

Your feet aches and your neck throbs, despite it, you keep your head down to collect more firewood. You gather it in your arms, mindful that it doesn't poke a hole in your windbreaker.

You see a perfect branch near a pine tree, it's straight with a few bumps on the wood. It looks like something a kid would take to play as a knight. So of course you would take it.

Arm too full of branches, you bend at the waist to grab one from the forest floor. You don't anticipate all the firewood in your arms to spill over and fall on the mossy ground. It all tumbles down like a domino while you struggle to grab them even with your pack being so heavy on your back. And you're left with a single branch in your hand, sighing and silently cursing.

Left with no choice, you kneel down to collect it all again. You hear leaves crunch behind you, yet you continue to gather all the fallen firewood.

“Need help?” A voice suddenly follows the crunching sound. You don't yell or scream from the surprise appearance of the unknown voice.

You look over your shoulder, windbreaker making a swoosh sound as you move. Your eyes lock with his hazel eyes, he stands there, all six feet and five inches of him, (approximately in your mind) under the green canopy and greener moss underneath his steel toed boots, he looks right at home in the forest. But at the same time, he seems out of place with all his leather clad self, numerous patches stitched and buttons dotted along his jacket. His piercings shine as the light passes above, showing you his chiseled features. He looks like he crawled out of a catalogue, or from a punk album.

The sight of him makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but you can't seem to find it in yourself to walk away or look away from him. It's like you're staring at a shark's fin moving underneath the waves, parting the waters in a glorious display of a deadly dance. You know what's underneath, and you know what it entails if you stayed, but you still stand there, gazing upon his mysterious eyes that hold you in place.

He gives you a familiar feeling akin to a cold breeze brushing along your flushed skin, or perhaps a gentle wave pooling around your ankles at the beach. There's warmth and familiar coldness in his eyes, one that you're sure you've seen in yourself.

“H–hi?” You ask, smile a bit wobbly from how awestruck you are. Something passes by his eyes, something akin to fascination.

“Hello,” the stranger grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, hands still tucked inside his pockets. “Are you lost? D’you need help?”

“Not really.” You chuckle nervously. He walks towards you, footsteps barely making any sound. “Are you camping here alone? Have you seen anyone else here?”

He shakes his head, crouching down to pick up all the fallen branches. “Yes, and no one, just you, love.”

You hold a single branch to your chest, “oh, you don't need to help me.”

“I want to, I can't just stand there and let you pick all these up.” He chuckles deeply, you now notice his dimples whenever he smiles. “You ‘ere with your mates? I heard you lot from where I was.”

“Kind of.” You softly smile, finding his own contagious. Something about him makes you feel at ease, more like yourself. “Do you know a payphone nearby? We need it desperately.”

He hands you the branches in your arms, calloused palms brushing along your own. “I think there's one a few miles west ‘ere.”

Your face brightens, and his gaze softens. “That's great, can you take me there? I need to call our advisor. I'm…worried about them, and Flash the moron totaled the car.”

The handsome stranger stands up, and he lends you a helping hand which you take almost immediately. His hand feels cold yet inviting. “So you're with your classmates then? How many are you stuck ‘ere?”

“Yep— kind of, they're my club mates. There's six of us including me.”

He inhales, the corner of his lip curls into a smile. “Alright, I'll help you.”

You sigh in relief. “I'm Y/N by the way.”

He tests your name sweetly on his tongue. Reaching for your hand, he shakes it gently even with you carrying the firewood. You almost fumbled with it when you grasped his hand. “Hobie. Call me Hobie, love.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hobie.” You haven't smiled this much during the whole trip.

“C’mon, I'll show you where the phone is.”

You nod enthusiastically despite the goosebumps running up your arms. “Okay.”

Hobie smiles, a smile akin to a lion's grin. “I'll take those off you, then.” He takes your armful of branches on his own, all the while having his eyes on you. “I can't live with myself if I let you carry this all alone.”

“Oh,” you suddenly feel warm, a good kind of warm. “Can I at least take half of it?”

He chuckles while fixing his hold on the wood. “You can take one.” At first you thought he was joking, but with his raised brow and curl of his lips, you thought otherwise.

You fight a grin. “Just one?” With a nod from your acquaintance, you take a single branch from the pile in his arms. “You sure you can carry it all?”

In a display of strength, he flips the branches over to one arm, carrying it all with no problem. “See? You already took a load off of it.” You tamp down a giggle. He starts to walk away from you, when he notices that you're not following him, he looks over his shoulder casually. “You comin'?”

Looking behind you, your second thoughts about leaving them behind are squashed down by their ugly words uttered to you through the years. “Sorry, I'm coming.” You catch up with him, side by side, you follow him with a small smile.

Leaves crunch under your boots whilst you fling the branch in your hand bashfully, letting the wood brush over the tall grass. The silence permeates through the hike with him carrying the load, and guiding you while you just walk close by him. You've never been the one to be guided, it's always you who has to guide the others, keep a watchful eye so they don't get poison ivy, and you, who has to lug around the supplies. All the while you listen to them expressing their ungratefulness. You stare at his profile, smile tugging at your lips immediately when he gazes back at you wordlessly. It's nice to be taken care of once in a while.

For the first time in a long time, you start a conversation. A friendly one that you know won't end in you getting called a nasty word.

“So why camp alone?” You tentatively start, nails picking at the branch in your hand. “This part of the forest isn't exactly beginner friendly.”

“Who says ‘m a beginner?” He nudges you gently, making you look up from your feet. “My mates and I used to come ‘ere and just stay for an entire week forgettin’ our lives until we got the scent of city smoke out of our noses.” Chuckling, Hobie looks at you through glimmering eyes. “Now it's jus’ me and my motorbike.”

“What happened to them— i–if you're comfortable telling me.”

“A freak accident. There was a forest fire, I barely made it out. But they didn't.” He sighs, you open your mouth for an apology but he beats you to it. “It was a long time ago, no need to say your condolences.”

“Still, I'm sorry. It must've been hard.” You reach out to him, but you decide not to last minute lest you make your new friend uncomfortable.

Hobie leans against your palm before you fully move away, his smile gets brighter when you decide to cup his elbow gently. “Thank you, love. I come ‘ere to look at the shitty condo they built atop it and imagine that it's burnin.’ Ain't that fucked up of me, hm?”

You chuckle, already regretting the sound right after. “I— no, that's actually…uh.”

“Funny?” He completes your sentence while chortling at your flustered self.

You blink, fully laughing with him. “I was gonna say that but I didn't want to offend you!”

“Consider me not offended, love. You've got a sense of humour amidst the fucked up shit in the world, I fancy that in a bird.” The heat on your cheek is impossible to ignore, you have a feeling he knows about it too. “The funny thing is that it's not even done yet, it just stands there on their graves like some fucked up grave stone.” He sniffs, thumb rubbing along the corner of his eye. “My turn to ask a question, what kind of club are you and your mates are in?”

“Forestry. And they're not exactly my mates.” You spat out the last word with malice. You both pass by a towering pine tree and a start to a dirt trail.

“Alright— hold on…” he pauses mid step, with a careful hand atop your shoulder, he reaches for your cheek, “you have red on you, can I?”

You don't usually let anyone touch you, especially someone who's practically a stranger. But the familiar feeling grows with every moment you're with him. As if you've known him for a long time, a long lost childhood friend that you've finally found amidst the throng of worthless faces. So you let him with a nod, let him wipe away the deer's dried up blood caking your cheek. The pad of his thumb is calloused and rough, yet his touch is as gentle as a raindrop falling on your skin. You welcome the feeling wholeheartedly.

“There, all clean.” He doesn't ask why you have blood on you, “it was hidin’ your pretty face.”

“It was just a drop, and I highly doubt that.” You say bashfully.

“That you're pretty or that it hides your face?” His hand rests upon your shoulder, thumb ghosting above your heated cheek. “You’re stunnin’, I wasn't going to let that small thing mark you.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. There it is again, the familiar yet cold feeling washing over you. It's a beautiful contradiction. You're not perturbed by it in the slightest. “Thank you.” you could only manage to say those two words.

Hobie leans away, hand pulling reluctantly away from you. From the way his tender gaze falls on you, you think he feels it too. It's not love, not yet anyway. It's attraction. The kind that's magnetic, the kind that you know he'll fit right in with your missing pieces, the kind that he'd let himself fall into place right next to the spaces that he can and will gladly fill out. His soul glows behind his calm demeanor, as if the two last endangered beings have finally met their match. Feathers plucked from the same bird.

But it's an unspeakable match, one that could end in teeth marks left upon each other’s skin, leaving darkened blood boiling to the surface, caking each other’s maw with his and your own blood. So you two let it simmer, let it boil until one of you cracks under the pressure like trapped frogs in a boiling pot. So for now, you act as if you don't feel it in case you're wrong. Something you wouldn't want to be wrong with.

You bite the inside of your cheek while you continue to follow him. Each of your footsteps match the beating of your heart, and you swear that he can feel it too.

Walking out of the thicket and into a clearing, you two have made it out to a smaller campsite where a single eerie lamp post and payphone stands in the middle. Its paint is chipping from the elements, only leaving a few scraps of red and stickers vandalizing the payphone. There's a steep ledge behind the payphone, showing the top of the green canopies below, and the fading light from the sunset above.

“I'll wait for you ‘ere.” He says next to you, already walking towards a black and red motorbike parked at the edge of the clearing.

“This yours?” You ask with a smile, eyes roaming all over its shiny metal.

He pats the seat before leaning on it. “My treasure, I call her ‘Ripley’”

“From the Alien movie?” You walk closer to him, payphone forgotten.

“You know it?”

“Do I know it?” You say with a laugh, “‘Mother! I've turned the cooling unit back on. Mother!’” You copy the same tone from the movie.

“‘The ship will automatically destruct in T minus five minutes.’” Hobie replies in a mechanical robotic tone.

“‘You... Bitch!’” You and Hobie quote simultaneously, earning a hearty laugh from the both of you.

You've found yourself holding onto his arm, smiling and giggling with him. “Y’know, they've got a screening of it down at the local drive-in.” You tentatively say, eyes turned down at the pile of branches in his arms.

Hobie puffs out his chest, chin turned upwards with a smirk. “You askin' me out, lovie?”

You exhale, moving away with disappointment and a wobbly frown. “N–no, sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking.” Before you could fully walk away, he grabs your sleeve, tugging you gently back to him.

“C’mon now, love, don't walk away now.” He encourages you with a lopsided grin, eyes smiling genuinely as he gazes at you softly. “Ask me properly.” He bracelets his hand around your wrist, holding onto you gently while he runs his thumb over your quickening pulse.

“I—” you swallow thickly, and he ducks down to look into your shy eyes. With his sweet smile, you gather your courage. “Do you want to go watch Alien with me at the drive-in?” You inhale, his grin gets bigger with every word you utter. “We can have p–popcorn, or if you don't like popcorn, we can have chips and—and then maybe soda but if you don't like soda we can—”

He pulls you in, trapped right in the middle of his legs, not closing in around you, making you more comfortable in his tentative embrace. “I like popcorn. And I'll take you on a motorcycle ride right after, like how they do in the movies.”

Your skin is aflame. “Okay,” you nod enthusiastically, “a ride right after— I mean!” You fluster, “a bike ride— with me and and you— of course with me and you, it's stupid if—” you ramble on, tripping over your own words. He waits patiently without teasing you. Instead, he smiles, and nods along. “I— yeah, that sounds good.”

He tilts his head, hand brushing a fallen leaf off your shoulder. “Yeah? It's a date then.”

You sigh longingly. You still can't wrap your mind around at how you manage to pull it off. “Okay, I'll—” you reach inside your jacket, pulling out a small notepad and pen, moving quickly to scribble your name and number, afraid that he'll change his mind. “Here's my number.” You rip the page and then hand it to him.

He shrugs, smirking at you. “My hands are kind of full, love.” Technically it is, but he literally just brushed a leaf off of you a moment ago. “Put it in my front pocket for me?” Looking down at his jacket pocket, he smiles sheepishly.

“You and I both know that you can handle it on your own.” You tamp down a giggle, teeth biting down at your lip while you watch him make a face. “Fine, I'll only do it because you're being cute.” Gently, you place it inside his jacket pocket. Your fingers brush something metallic and sharp, but you ignore it. “There.”

“Finally flirtin’ back, huh?”

“Shut up and hand me a quarter, Hobie.” His guffaw echoes around the clearing as he reaches at his jean pocket to rustle for some spare change. “Sorry, too much?” You wince, thinking that it might've turned him off.

He shakes his head with amusement. “You're cheeky once you've gotten comfortable.” He hands you the coin.

“Well, people usually don't stay too long to find out.”

“Their loss, my win.”

You smile, palms clammy and legs turning into mush from his flirting. Staring at the coin in your hand, you find it having two heads on each side. “I don't think the payphone will take this.” It reminds you of the same lucky coin that your club advisor always carries around.

“Right, sorry, that's my lucky coin.” He grabs it back nonchalantly, then he rummages through his pocket for another one. Checking it once, he gives the quarter to you. “Use it wisely.”

“A lot of people seem to have their own lucky coin.” You twirl the regular quarter in between your fingers.

“You don't have one?” He creases his brows, you shake your head in reply. “‘ere you go then.” Taking the coin from his pocket again, he puts it in the middle of your palm. “For luck.”

“I can't take this, it's yours.” You try to give it back but he pushes your hand away.

“Nah, you can borrow it. Bring it back to me on our date, yeah?”

You chuckle softly, eyes gazing into his own, finding your bashful reflection in his hazel eyes. “Okay.” With a shy nod, you turn towards the payphone to dial your school's number.

—

Hobie waits for you in the sideline while he basks in the sunlight. His eyes are closed while his head is turned up into the heavens, arms cradling the sticks, letting the rays bathe him through the dappled shadows of the canopy above. He looks like an oil painting.

He cracks one eye opening, sensing your presence. “What’d they say?” Straightening up, he tilts his head.

“Uh…” You've forgotten what the school administrator told you for a second. “T–they said that the rest of the club had already called ahead to tell them that they've arrived at the last pit stop. But we were just there and when I asked the cashier at the gas station, she said that she didn't see a van stop by.” You rub at your tired eyes. “I don't know where they are.”

Hobie leaves the side of his bike to cross the small distance towards you. His eyes are full of concern, lips turned into a frown. “‘m sure they're fine, love.” He juggles the wood in one arm to grasp at your tensed hand, giving you enough space to turn away but you don't.

“I’m not worried about them, Hobie. I know they're okay. But…” you squeeze his hand, “I don't want to be left alone with those fuckers.”

He scrunches his nose. “What fuckers?”

“I— forget it, I'll just tough it out until the others get here.”

“Nah, I'll keep you company.” He pulls you gently by your hand, “c’mon, I'll beat ‘em off with a stick if I have to. I have a lot of ‘em.” He shakes the bundle of wood in his arms.

You chuckle, “you don't even know what they've done.”

“I know enough from how you talk ‘bout ‘em.” He shrugs, warm fingers squeezing you back. “They sound like a piece of work.”

“You have no idea.” With a reluctant step, you move towards the trail once again. Hand in hand with Hobie, the two of you head to the campsite where surely they've forgotten about you and your firewood. Or with your luck, the spiders got to them.

“What did they do to you?” He cuts the silence in half. “Do they hurt you?” His tone softens with a tinge of fury within it.

“Not usually.” You reply back, eyes turned away from him. He encourages you with a gentle tug, lips softly smiling at you. Inhaling, you let it all out with hope that it doesn't turn him off with your woes. “The guys just tease me about… everything else. But the girls— they once locked me in the janitor's closet for an entire day. The janitor found me hours after classes ended.” You can hear his sharp inhale next to you. “One time they…uh— threw glue and flour at me during picture day. I had to go home after that and I didn't get my picture taken for the yearbook. It's just blank, fitting, right?”

Hobie shakes his head, eyes swirling with something you can't describe. “No, it's not. They're wankers.”

“I— yeah, they are.” You feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. No one has listened to you like that in years. Before it was Miranda, before she decided that you're not worth being friends with. “I know what you're thinking, I should fight back. I tried, it only made everything worse. They only do it because they think I don't belong in their fancy school. That I'm only there because of my merit, not because of my parents' money or lack of it.” Looking up at Hobie, you see him staring back with a clenched jaw. “I'm sorry, that was….pathetic.” You grip the branch tighter until you can feel the splinters digging into your palm. “We don't get to choose the room we're stuck in. But we can choose the people we let in. Graduation's coming, and I get to kick them out soon.” You smile at him and he smiles back with soft empathetic eyes.

“Maybe sooner than you'd think. And It isn't pathetic, they're the pathetic ones.” You both reach the place where you met him as you question inside your mind what he meant by his first sentence. He stops walking, hand carefully pulling you to a stop. “I have a confession to make. ‘m not ‘ere to grieve.”

You furrow your brows, stopping mid step. “What?”

“I know them, the rich fuckers that torments you.”

“So you know me too?” You let go of his hand, heart cracking.

“No, not you, just ‘em.” He glances behind you where you can hear Quinn's laughter. “Just— I'll tell you after, yeah? For now, I want to tell you that everythin' I told you was real. I do want that date, love. I only ever want to see you.”

“For real?” You reach for him, palm placed on his chest. Hobie drops the sticks unceremoniously, the sound of wood clattering down on the soil.

He then holds your hand in place, fingers curling around it. “Real. I need you to know me fully. Let me in the room y'know.” With a sigh of relief, you lean closer as he mirrors your movements, lips pursing, breath fanning over your lips.

“Paste!” Miranda suddenly yells from behind you. Whirling around, your smile falters. “Shit, there you are! Who the fuck are you talking to, you freak?”

“I—” you turn back around to face Hobie but he's nowhere to be found. Your breath gets stuck in your throat. “He was right there.”

She clicks her tongue at you, “stop tripping and get back to camp! The sun's setting.”

She doesn't help you with the firewood as she leaves you alone in the middle of the forest. You look around in hopes of finding Hobie, but you don't see nor hear him anywhere. Sighing, hope dashed, and chest aching with longing, you walk slowly back to camp.

—

After three hours of setting up camp with barely any help from the others, the tents are fully pitched behind you, and you finally get to sit down and rest near the campfire you built with the same wood that Hobie was carrying. For someone whom you just met, he seems to occupy your mind ever since he left. He told you he'd stay for you, but why would he leave the moment Miranda appeared?

The fire engulfs your frozen heart, you watch as the embers crackle, eyes unblinking at the bonfire. Your hands cradle a can of peaches, you haven't taken a bite of it ever since you opened it, your mind keeps wandering back to Hobie, wondering if he was even real.

“Oi, paste!” Andy calls for you, when you don't acknowledge him, he throws a tin can at you that lands right on your thigh. “Jesus, she's out of it.”

“Did you find some mushrooms out there, pasty?” Quinn's mocking tone makes you glance at them without moving your head. You can see her flinch slightly from your glare.

“Man, if you actually did find some mushrooms, can I have a bite?” Emma asks, back leaning on a log while she nurses a flask of vodka. You can smell it from where you're sitting.

“I didn't find any.” You mutter, eyes flickering down at the fire, vision swirling at the dancing flames.

“Too bad, remember when we found some last time?” Flash chuckles, arm snaked over Miranda's shoulders, who stare at him dumbstruck.

“What the fuck, Flash?!” She slaps his bicep in a resounding smack. “I told you that we can't talk about it!”

“Relax, M, it's been two whole years! Besides, our parents made sure that it stays buried. Literally.” That piqued your interest. Subtly, you listen in. Flash guffaws, fist bumping Andy on his way to snatch the flask away from Emma. He takes a generous sip while Andy cheers him on. “Fuck, that's good.”

“Those mushrooms fucked us up real fucking bad, Flash. It wasn't some bad trip.” Miranda chastises, she turns towards Emma and the others, sneering at each of them. “Did you all not remember what happened?”

“Of course we do, Miranda.” Quinn scoffs, flinging Andy's arm away from her middle. “I can still hear the screams!”

You blink, being practically invisible has its perks. Your hands grip the can, ears straining to hear more of the hushed conversation.

“Screams?” Andy shakes his big head, “try the smell, their burning skins were stuck in my nose for weeks.”

Miranda rubs her face, “you lot have no ounce of empathy do you?”

“Please,” Emma adds, glaring at each of them before stopping by Miranda. “You were the one who insisted we stayed at the campsite instead of our usual place. Now there's a patch of burnt forest where your father's— mind you, my father's, Quinn's mother, Andy's parents and Flash's grandfather, contributed to hide the crime where the condo now stands.”

Your eyes widens, hand slithering its way inside your pocket only to find the two headed coin. So it's real, Hobie is real. So it wasn't a freak accident, and this is what He meant by knowing them.

They killed his friends.

Miranda seethes in place, hands clenched into fists. “I'm not the one who decided to light up in the middle of summer where the dry leaves were! And now we're stuck here, forced to take forestry because a judge said so!”

“Oh fuck you, Miranda.” Quinn stands up, stomping her bedazzled boot on the ground. “If it weren't for my mum then we'd all be in fucking jail! Getting stuck with the freak was the lesser demon!”

“It's ‘lesser evil,’ actually.” You finally add, eyes glancing at each of their angry faces. “And man, how many people did you all kill, hm?”

“It was an accident.” Emma blinks at you, “fuck, great, she knows.”

Andy huffs like a mad bull seeing red flapping in front of him. “You gonna keep quiet about it, paste, or do I have to make you?”

Their stares bore into you, you now realize the amount of danger that you're in. Individually, you can take one down, but with them all after you, you won't survive the morning.

So you dig deep, you free the moth from the pits of your soul, letting it loose. “Oh, I'm going to keep quiet about it. Who would believe me anyway?” You scoop out a peach from the untouched can, bringing it to your mouth, you let the fruit slide down your throat. “Besides, I know something you don't. Something important that could lead to dangerous consequences if you didn't know.”

“What is it?” Emma looks you up and down, brows knitted together in uneasiness.

You tilt your head, grinning but your eyes don't convey the same expression. “Only if you promise not to hurt me.”

They all look at eachother, silently agreeing. “Fine,” Flash starts, “what is it?”

You lean back on the tree trunk, “you forgot to say please.”

They scoff, “please.” Emma says it first, then one by one, they say it with reluctance.

Miranda is the only one who hasn't said a word, but with a steely gaze from her boyfriend, she relents. “Please.” She says through gritted teeth.

You smile. “Mrs. Williams and the others aren't coming.”

“What?!” They shout.

“Yeah, I called the school but turns out they don't know where they are either. They're technically missing.” You pause, watching their expression sour further. “I told them where we are but since we're fairly alright they're focusing on trying to find them instead. So we're stuck here— wait, no, I'm stuck here with a bunch of murderers.” That seems to break the camel's back.

“You fucking freak!” Miranda jumps over the bonfire, lunging towards you with her fist connecting with your cheek. “Say that again!”

You laugh, spitting out blood as she wraps her hands around your throat. The others watch while Emma is the only one that's trying to stop her from choking you out with her hands, desperately failing to wrench her away from you.

“A–all this time,” you wheeze out, “you keep calling me the freakazoid, the fucking weirdo when you and your fucked up little friends are the ones who have actually kill—!” With a yell, she closes her fists around your throat, cutting off your air while you claw at her hands. “Fucking b–bitch!” You manage to let out.

“Miranda, no!” Emma tries to yank her away from you.

“That's enough!” Flash finally tries to do something but Miranda elbows his nose, blood quickly pouring out a second later. “Shit!”

Quinn and Andy slowly back away until they're well into the forest, nowhere to be seen.

“Fucking die!” Miranda squeezes harder as black spots filter your vision, she bangs your head harshly against the log behind you, warm crimson trickling out immediately after impact. “You've always been a thorn on my side! Always so fucking perfect, always the better one!”

You grin despite the blood coating your mouth. “I–I won't be surprised if it w–wasn't an accident. I get it, your mom and dad never loved you enough. Is that it, Miranda?” You choke, using your remaining energy to get the last word out, nails digging into her wrists.

Suddenly, piercing screams echo above your gasps. Flash manages to yank Miranda's grasp around your throat, leaving you breathless and gasping on the cold soil. The three of them look where the sound came from with trepidation rising in their veins.

Holding onto your neck, the skin tender and raw, head swirling, you watch on with wide eyes as Quinn comes out of the thicket covered in blood. Her former pristine white coat is drenched, face splashed with the same ruby hue, trainers leaving a trail of thickened crimson. She holds onto her bleeding arm, lips wobbling as tears leave a streak of clean skin amidst the spray of blood. Her head is oozing more of the ichor as she staggers her way out of the dark.

“H–help.”

“Fucking hell.” Emma holds out her arms for her, face contorted into deep fear. “W–what happened? Where's Andy?”

“He's dead!” Quinn cries, feet shuffling slowly towards Emma. Meanwhile, Flash and Miranda watch on with horror, clutching onto one another. “He doesn't have a head anymore. How will he play rugby now?” Just as when Quinn lets out the last word, the arm she has been holding up falls on the ground, making a squelching sound as it meets the grass below. Emma backs away, hands upon her mouth, shocked and terrified. “Oh, my arm fell.” Quinn chuckles through tears only to then tumble down on the gore filled soil right next to her arm.

“What the fuck?!” Emma shrieks.

“No!” Miranda hides behind Flash, who is also trying to hide behind his girlfriend, they struggle to hide behind one another.

You stare at the tainted dirt where Quinn lays face first. She still gurgles in place, body twitching all the while her arm sits a few ways from her. Your blood rushes in your ears, mouth turning dry, chest heaving to let air in. You have no idea what's happening, but there's one thing on your mind.

Run.

With leaves crunching underfoot, out comes a tall figure dressed in black mechanic overalls. His face is obscured by a macabre theater mask that depicts sadness. In his hand is a bloodied machete, and in the other is Andy's head swinging as he moves. He flicks the weapon free of blood, spraying the tall grass below with oozing iron.

You don't wait for the screams to run ahead. With your neck still aching, head pounding, you run for your life.

The hunting begins.

—

You run into the dark nowhere, panting, vision dancing as you push yourself to your limit. If not for your injuries, you'd have a better time navigating the forest from your acquired skills. You've gained some distance between you and the others, so with an apprehensive peek behind a tree, you sit down on the cold soil, back sliding on the trunk, windbreaker scraping against its rough surface.

With a hand on your chest, you try to even out your shallow breathing. “Fuck.” You mutter, tongue brushing along your dry lips.

Reaching behind you, you feel for your wound. Wincing, you bring your hand back towards you, finding blood coating your fingers. Your survival instincts kicks in, perhaps your years as a volunteer summer camp counselor has its perks. An incident with a bear trap involving a fellow counselor was an accident, it wasn't your fault that they blindly stepped into it. Too bad it forced your camp to close permanently.

Zipping your windbreaker slowly so as to not make any noise, you slowly rip the bottom half of your shirt. Once off, you tie it around your head while biting down on the inside of your cheek to tamp down your pained groans. With a tug, you tighten it fully to help stop the blood flow.

You take a breather, that motorcycle ride with Hobie sounds great right about now— Hobie! Your eyes fly open to the thought of him, he can get you out of here on his bike. If not then you can call for help on the payphone. So you find courage deep in you, with a shaky exhale, you stand up, walking back to the same direction where you ran from. You could only hope that he's alright.

Armed with your butterfly knife, you're careful of where you step on. You avoid dry leaves and sticks, opting to walk on the softer soil instead to lessen the sound you make lest you draw a target right on your back.

After a few minutes of trudging along the dark, you make it back to the campsite. The smell of corpses filters through your nose, its smell is just beginning to rot in the moist air as maggots and crows have managed to find their meal.

“Damn it.” You cover your nose with your sleeve, creeping your way towards your pack. You pass by a very much dead Andy, whose head is left out for the worms to get into. His expression is frozen in fear, mouth agape, and eyes wide in surprise. “That colour suits you, Andy.” You scoff, remembering how he tormented you during class by almost burning your hair with his lighter. You watch as maggots eat their way into his eyeball, eyes unable to look away for a moment.

Getting inside your tent, you give one last look at Quinn laying on the ground, unmoving now and skin turning into chalk white. Red still pools around her while the quiet of the night permeates through the chill autumn air.

Pushing the tent open, you enter to grab your backpack on the ground. Finally, hope blossoms in your chest, but the sound of a twig snapping near you freezes you on the spot. You slowly grab your knife next to your leg, all the while barely making any sudden movements. Your eyes flicker on your left, a shadow forms behind the yellow tent, slowly making its way towards you.

You follow its movements, hand gripping the knife until it leaves indents on your skin.

A bead of sweat slides down your temple as the shadow makes its way to the front of your tent.

Breath stuck in your throat, you raise the knife above your head, ready to strike.

A shadow of a hand reaches towards the tent entrance, and you ready yourself.

The tent opens and already you're lunging at them with your knife raised and hand clutching at their front.

“Jesus, it's me!” Flash yells from under you, hands gripping at your windbreaker, eyes wide and blown out as blood flows from a cut on his cheek. “Lower your damn knife, paste.”

“Your girlfriend tried to kill me, why should I?”

“Because I'm not her, duh?!” He shakes his head, hands raised next to him in surrender. “Listen, let's set our differences aside for a second, okay? I don't know a damn thing about surviving out here but I do know that we've got a bigger chance of staying alive if we stay together.”

You clench your jaw, weighing your options. If push comes to shove, you can use him as your shield since he's bigger built than you.

“...fine. But you listen to me, and do what you're told or I'll leave you here.” You push yourself off him, the knife never leaving your grasp.

Flash nods, standing up and brushing himself off. “Do you have a plan? Because you sound like you have a plan.”

“I do.” You say whilst going back inside the tent to grab your backpack. Once you emerge, you find Flash standing above Andy's decapitated head. “C’mon.” Beckoning him, you open your flashlight. He still stands there, staring at his friend's head. “Flash, do you want me to leave you here?”

He sighs, eyes trained on the rotting head. “He was my best friend. I should've told him that I slept with Quinn.”

You snort, “trust me, buddy, he knows.”

“What?” He turns to you.

“Come on before he gets back.”

Flash takes one last look at Quinn's body and Andy's head before jogging to catch up to you. “So how did you know?”

“Shut up, I don't want to talk to you.” You ignore him while walking the same path you and Hobie took.

“Jeez, you're no fun.” He says while making a disgusted face at Andy's dead body that you stepped over nonchalantly.

You whirl around, flashlight aimed at his face as he scrunches up his nose. “This isn't supposed to be fun, Flash. Say one more word and I'll leave you out here, because if he hasn't gotten to Miranda and Emma yet, you'll be the next one he targets.” He nods furiously, frown evident on his face. “Good.”

After a few good minutes, you find the same purple flower you saw while walking with Hobie. “So how do you know that I'm next—?”

“Because if it was me, I'll kill the ones who can fight me off first.”

“And you know this because?” He asks you suspiciously, eyes narrowed at you.

“Just nature. And lots of horror movies.” He continues to stare at you with the same face. “I'm not the killer, you moron. I was with you when he attacked, remember?”

“Yeah, but in those killer movies there's always more than one killer.” He leans closer to you, eyes staring daggers. “You one of them, paste?”

You pause, craning your neck to stare at him back with venomous eyes. “You imbecile.” You mock before walking again. He stands there for a moment, unblinking at where you stood. He follows after your light is starting to fade from his line of sight.

“So…you're not one of them?”

“There's the phone.” You roam your eyes around the clearing all the while ignoring the man next to you. The pay phone still stands completely unharmed, and the lamp post flickers in the night, bulb whirring above the sound of owls. Your heart aches when you don't find a sign of Hobie being there or his bike. You like to imagine that he's far away from the chaos right about now, at least he'd be safe.

Crossing the distance, you pick up the phone, finding it still in good condition as you hear the dial tone. You rummage through your pockets for a quarter, but to no avail. And then you check around the payphone and the coin flap to check for any forgotten coins. You don't find a single one. “Fuck, do you have a quarter?”

“Shit.” Flash pats his jean pockets and varsity jacket pockets. Again, finding empty handed. “Wait—” he takes off his baseball hat to take out a crisp bill. “Here, it's my emergency money.”

You stare at the bill wordlessly while pointing at the coin slot. He shakes his head, gawping at you. You gesture at the slot then at his bill in hand until he gets it.

Realization flickers in his dim witted eyes. “Oh.”

“Oh.” You mock his tone. “We can't make a call without one.”

“What now?”

“I say we just follow the road and hope that a car comes by.” You point at the dark dirt road ahead of you. “Better get walking—”

An ear piercing scream startles Flash, while your head swivels down at the direction of the sound.

“Shit, that's Miranda!” Flash yells, grabbing your hand in his iron grip, and gunning down the slope to get to the source. “I'm coming, baby! I'm so sorry I slept with Quinn, Darlene, and the rest of your cheer team!” His voice rings in your ears while you're trapped in his hold, you try to pull away and get back to solid ground as he continues to drag you away to the dark abyss but he's too strong for you.

“Flash! Let me go!” You pull and tug with all your might but you're left trying to catch up with his speed while your feet drag behind. “Fuck!” A branch hits you right on your face, getting a mouthful of leaves while you almost lose your balance as you skid down the slope.

“Baby—! Oh mother of fuck!” He freezes, hand falling from your wrist, staring at the unfinished building looming overhead amidst the tall trees and overgrown grass. “Shit, it's this place.”

You glance around the space, finding abandoned heavy machinery, concrete, and trailers littered around the skeleton of a would be condo.

“Flash!” Miranda appears from behind a pillar, limping her way towards you and Flash. “He got Emma!” She embraces him while Flash's attention is glued on the grey building with its protruding metal that creaks in the wind and moss covered concrete. “I definitely tried to save her but she tripped and now she's dead with her body chopped in half!”

You glance at her, finding her tears utterly fake. “Or you tripped her.”

She leans away from flash's chest, eyes narrowed to slits and lips frowning. “You're still alive?”

“No thanks to you.” You smile bitterly at her. Before she gets a word in, you're already walking away towards the tall building, eyes scanning its skeletal structure. You notice the ground is darker from where you stand. “This is where it happened.” You turn towards the couple, “this is where they died.”

“Listen, it wasn't completely our fault.” Miranda stalks closer towards you and you quickly ready your knife in your hand. “We were just playing around, we didn't mean to.”

“You're grown ass adults, Miranda. Did none of you listen to Smokey?”

“No, we were too busy having friends, paste.” She mocks, even in danger she finds it in herself to torment you. “That is not our problem right now, we need to go—!”

A sudden bright spotlight appears in front, you squint your eyes, managing to see the masked figure behind the wheel of a motorbike. Oh. He revs his engine, taunting Flash and Miranda.

“Oh fuck, he's back!” Flash yelps, surprisingly enough, he shields Miranda behind him, arms raised to his sides. “Touch my girlfriend and you die!” You raise a brow at his sudden heroic action.

“Yeah, you tell him, baby!” Miranda coaxes him while you step away and watch the scene unfold.

The masked killer revs his engine again, this time, he rides towards you at lightning speed. Smoke billows out from behind him, blanketing the whole area with fog.

The couple screams, bracing for impact while you step back with your eyes only looking at the killer.

Instead of plowing them down with his bike, he skids on the ground sideways, stopping a few ways ahead of the three of you. Once the sound dies down to a murmur of the engine, Flash and Miranda open their eyes to find the killer tossing his machete at their feet.

“Are you surrendering?” Flash turns to you. “Is he surrendering?” You could only shrug.

The figure points at the blade, and then gets off his bike, letting it run in the background and using its light to illuminate the place. Wordlessly, he stomps over to the front of the bike, his figure obscuring the light a bit.

You can't see his eyes from behind the mask as he gestures towards the glade once again. “I think he's trying to tell you to pick it up and fight him.”

“What?” They both look at you with surprise, they simultaneously turn towards the figure, only to find him eerily nodding in approval.

Flash points at himself, and the man nods slowly. “Fuck.”

“Pick it up, babe, show him how it's done!” Miranda cheers him on, pushing him towards the machete. “End his miserable life so we can get back to our lives.” She spits out.

With a gulp, Flash bends down to grab the blade with reluctance. Miranda moves closer to your side, hand grasping your arm. You let her while Flash assumes the position in front of the figure.

“Come at me!” Flash yells, lunging for him.

With a quick side step, the figure dodges with barely any movement. Flash follows ahead with his attack, raising the weapon over his head to slice but his miserable attack is only met with air. All the while, the stranger has his hands hidden in his pockets, upper half barely making a move as he keeps dodging Flash's desperate slashes.

“Stop moving!” Flash frustratingly yells while sweat flows from his forehead.

“You're not fair!” Miranda adds, yelping when Flash gets close to cutting the figure's hand off, but of course he dodges at the last minute. “Fuck! Come on, baby!”

Flash moves to stab instead, “you fucker—!”

With quick movement that you could barely decipher, Flash suddenly has a knife in his nape. Blood ebbs from his neck as he stands in place, gurgling and choking on his own blood.

Miranda's piercing scream echoes around the clearing as birds caw in the distance. “Oh god!”

The figure takes his knife back with an ugly squelch of muscle and blood. Crimson spraying all over his mask as he holds the knife in his gloved hand. He tilts his head, the sharp end of the knife pointed directly at you, to then slowly go down from your neck to your hand that's gripping your own knife.

Miranda shakes you, “he wants to fight you, Y/N!”

“Hm, I don't think so.” You mutter under your breath while gazing at him. “Why should I?” You glance at her horrified face. “You saw what happened to Flash, I can't fight him.”

“P–please.” She says in between sobs, “do this for us.” You roll your eyes and she shakes your arm. “I never wanted to hurt you, paste.” She pleads, the nickname earning a scoff from you.

“You once slashed my tires just because I was paired with your ex for a project.” You say calmly, façade now fully broken, moth freely flying over you. “I almost crashed into a tree, Miranda.”

The figure steps closer, knife now at his side, waiting for your next move.

“T–that was just a joke! We were just—!” Her words are suddenly cut off by your knife stabbing at her jugular. She gasps as blood sprays at your smiling face, her body falling, hand stuck around your knife, you finally turn towards the masked man.

“And here I thought you'd leave me alone with them.”

He peels off his mask, revealing Hobie's awestruck expression. Blinking, chuckles slowly escape his pierced lips. “Holy shit, love. You're brilliant.”

You shrug, smile never leaving your lips. “You should've said something, I would've helped.” You say, reaching for your knife back, flicking all the blood away before tucking it inside your boot. “

“I thought…” he crosses the distance, hand reaching for your own, he loops his pinky around your own, gently tugging you into his bloodied form. “... never mind that now.” you can hear sirens echo from somewhere. “You still up for that ride?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

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