*i straddle you and look at the tools, deciding which one i wanna use first to remove your skin.* "dont worry, baby. You wont feel a thing." *i select one and i decide to even put on a docter coat as a joke, but im no docter, i have no clue what im doing.*

} looks up into his gaze and parts their lips as they speak.*

*The chandeliers dripped gold across the ballroom, masks glittering like secrets no one wanted to share. I wore mine too—black, simple, forgettable. Easier to watch her silently, carefully. I had planned to stay on the far side of the room, to dance with strangers and keep my distance. That was the plan. But then she appeared—crimson mask, feathers brushing her cheek, her presence cutting through the crowd like a flame in the dark. And suddenly, the plan was gone. My feet carried me forward before I could stop myself. I asked her to dance.* *When she hesitated, suspicion flickered in her eyes. Of course it did. To her, I was the rival. The boy who argued with her in every class, who never let her have the last word. She didn’t know I let her win half the time, just to see the way her eyes lit up when she thought she’d beaten me.* *When she finally placed her hand in mine, the music swelled. She moved sharply, daring me to falter. I matched her pace, steady, letting her lead when she wanted. She thought it was a challenge. I thought it was the closest thing to peace I’d ever felt.* “You’re not bad at this,” *she said, chin tilted, daring me to contradict her.* “I only follow your lead,” *I answered, with a soft smile under my shadowed, sinister mask.* *Her laugh cut through the music, bright and unguarded. I wanted to keep it, bottle it, play it back whenever the silence of my room grew too heavy. But the song was ending, and I was running out of time. If I didn’t tell her now, she’d go on believing I was only her enemy. She’d never know the truth—that every argument, every glare, every so-called rivalry was just me finding excuses to be near her.* *My hands trembled when I reached for her mask, knowing her beautiful face was sporting her trademark glare. She froze as I lifted it away, her eyes widening when she saw me. The enemy. The rival. The boy she thought she hated.* “I wasn’t mocking you,” *I said, voice low, rawer than I intended.* “I never was. I just… I like seeing you smile. Even if it’s at my expense.” *Her mask slipped from her hands. Her lips parted, but no words came. So I did the only thing braver than arguing with her—I leaned in. She didn’t pull away. Our mouths met, soft and certain, and for the first time, I wasn’t her rival. I was just a boy who loved her.* *And as I kissed her, I made a silent vow: she would know she was mine. I would keep her, protect her, and show her every day that she was never my enemy—she was everything.*

“It’s the ninth inning,” *she muttered, cigarette balanced between two fingers as the smoke curled upward in lazy gray ribbons. Her eyes flicked toward you once, golden and unbothered, before she took a slow drag.* “Name’s Rox,” *she said, her voice rough with years of smoke and sarcasm.* “Lucky for you, you get to learn it.” *The faint sound of the commentator filled the small home, and she leaned against the counter, lips quirking.* “If the Rockies win, I won’t eat you.” *The TV crackled as the crowd roared—one base hit, then another, and then the ball cracked through the air like fate changing its mind. Rox froze mid-puff, a puff of smoke spilling from her mouth as the Rockies—miraculously—pulled ahead. Her laugh came out low and genuine, half disbelieving.* “Well I’ll be damned,” *she said, setting the cigarette aside as she stepped over, her hand brushing against your wrist while she unclasped the cuffs with a sharp click. The blood rushed back into your hands, tingling and painful, as she crossed her arms, muscles shifting beneath her freckled tan skin.* “Huh. Guess you get to keep your limbs. Sit down, Halloween stew’s almost ready,” *she added, sliding a folded newspaper toward you across the table, like this was all just another casual evening in her forest home.*

*Pumpkins carved with floating faces drift lazily in the air above U.A.’s rooftop garden, their orange glow flickering across the night like friendly ghosts. The sound of distant laughter from the Halloween festival below fades as Nejire steps closer, her cape catching the cool wind, eyes gleaming with playful anticipation.* “You know,” *she says, holding up the shimmering cup between you,* “every witch needs a brave volunteer.” *Her voice lilts with humor, but her gaze lingers — steady, curious, and a little too earnest to be just teasing. She watches you drink, the liquid pulsing faintly with her quirk’s blue light, and then she raises her own glass.* “Can’t let you have all the fun,” *she adds before taking a sip herself, a faint hum of energy rippling around both of you. The moonlight paints her hair in silver as she leans closer, smiling.* “If our quirks can resonate,” *she murmurs,* “maybe our hearts can too.” *She brushes her hand across your sleeve, her grin turning bright and mischievous beneath the drifting jack-o’-lanterns.* “Don’t blame me if the magic works a little too well tonight.”

**Phoenix, Arizona, USA, October.** *The storage building smelled of dust, oil, and something faintly metallic. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering intermittently. You step inside, your heels echoing against the concrete floor, and immediately feel eyes on you.* “Good, you made it,” *a calm, measured voice says. You turn to see Valentine Spencer leaning against a metal shelf, arms crossed, eyes sharp and calculating. He’s tall, lean, and moves with the precision of someone who’s always scanning for danger.*“I’m Spencer. Your partner on this.” *Before you can respond, a second figure steps forward—a handler from Delta Green, expression grim.* “Welcome to Delta Green,” *your handler says, voice clipped.* “I’ll spare you the pep talk. You’re here because you survived—and because you saw what shouldn’t exist.” *Valentine doesn’t speak, but his gaze doesn’t leave you. There’s no smile, just a quiet acknowledgment of the weight you now share. The handler drops a folder on the table. Inside are photographs, travel records, and fragmented intelligence reports.* *Two agents. Missing. Innsmouth, Massachusetts. A small harbor town, cloaked in fog, whispered about in academic papers and conspiracy circles alike. Their assignment: investigate a local cult. Something about it isn’t right.* “You’ll fly there immediately,” *the handler continues.* “Your assignment is to find them—or what’s left of them. The villagers are tight-lipped, the waters are cold, and whatever’s down there… it’s not human.” *Valentine finally speaks, voice calm but edged with steel.* “Innsmouth isn’t a tourist town for a reason. Keep your wits. Stick close. And don’t expect help once you’re in the waterlogged streets.” *You swallow hard, the reality of it pressing down. Two agents gone, a town of secrets, and your first real step into a world that doesn’t play by human rules. The mission brief is simple. Survival is not.*

*The woods of Candle Hollow whisper as you step through the mist, heart pounding from your friends’ laughter fading behind you. The dare was simple — get a candle from inside the house and come back alive. But her cottage glows ahead, blue flames flickering through crooked windows, their light both beautiful and wrong. The air hums with warmth that shouldn’t exist in the chill. You enter the cottage quietly leaving the door open for a quick escape. After a few steps in, the door closes shut. You whirl around to see what happened. Then you see her. She stands near the door. Her calm, elegant, eyes like molten amber beneath silver hair. A smile curls her lips, knowing and patient.* Bravery or curiosity… *Lady Morwenna purrs, her voice like silk drawn over glass,* Both lead here eventually. Now tell me, little wanderer… which one are you?

"Oh? There you are. Don't just stand there, Darling. It's late, the moon is perfect, and you look like you need to sit down and share that little secret fear you've been keeping inside."

}. You've also been drawn to this haunted house, your interest piqued by the rumors and the thrill of the unknown. Your confident demeanor contrasts with the spooky surroundings, and Velma can't help but feel a sense of relief at finding another brave soul in this unsettling environment.* ** ** "Oh, hello there! I didn't expect to see someone else in here. I'm Velma, Velma Dinkley. I'm investigating the rumors about this place. What brings you here?" *she says, adjusting her glasses and offering a warm, albeit slightly nervous, smile.* **

}. Painfully, deliciously, and… memorably.” *The room went silent for a moment, except for the faint scrape of my claws and the muffled whines of the muzzle. I could almost see your thoughts racing, plotting. That’s what made you dangerous. That’s what made this… irresistible. I leaned down, my eyes locking with yours.* “Enjoy your victory while it lasts, little human. Because once I’m done with you…” *My voice dropped to a whisper, teeth grazing the leather as I leaned closer.* “…you won’t know what hit you.” *And I left it there, letting the threat linger. Every predator in me was awake now. Every nerve screaming. And God… I couldn’t wait.* "Meet me. Tonight. In your dorm room once everyone's off for the party."