#Anyway the rest were a cake walk lol

[sysig]

I can’t see a damn thing

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt.8

Word Count: 23.4k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, possession, mentions of pregnancy, forced pregnancy, mentions of breeding, attempted murder, mentions of murder, tw attempted car crash, manipulation, pet names like, kitten, sweetie, honey, Xavier appears, tw vomiting, mentions of blood, cramping, nausea, very plot heavy chapter wld recommend not skipping, its well worth the read!

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel, @emidpsandia , @angel-jupiter, @hwangintakswifey, @webmvie, @housesortinghat, @fading-twinkle, @shoruio, @gojos1ut, @solomonlover, @cheesenjam, @elegantnightblaze

AN: Hi all! This is of course on A03! I totally forgot about my wisdom teeth removal surgery and therefore added a LOT more words to make up for it for the late upload. Also, readers symptoms are based on what a friend told me it was like for her so please be aware of that going in if you've been pregnant and don't find readers timeline aligning with your own. Its a lot different for everyone! (Plus considering Sylus isn't even human in the first place I doubt the pregnancy would be normal anyways lol). Anyways, please enjoy this chapter! /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡

“No, I’m not pregnant,” you whimpered, shaking your head as tears started to spill down your cheeks. “I’m just sick…I'm just sick...” “Only one way to find out, honey,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. Like he was comforting a child. He could feel your fear, could see the way you were choking on the sobs that kept spilling from you. But there was no rush. He had all the time in the world.

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.9

Sylus sat on the couch, fingers drumming absently against the wood of the arm rest as he packed away files and data chips for the upcoming trip. The low hum of the N109 Zone’s endless night buzzed through the small cracks of the window, a constant, oppressive reminder of where he lived. But his mind wasn’t on the trip, not really. His thoughts kept circling back to you—you sitting on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, probably confused at the coldness he’d been showing you for days.

He had expected this. Of course, you would try to leave him. That’s what all this distance had been about—your inevitable attempt at escape again. It was frustrating, yes, but not surprising. You had been stubborn from the very beginning, always resisting, always challenging him. And in truth, that was part of what drew him to you. Your defiance. But the fact that you had actually gone through with it that night, tried to walk out on him... that cut deeper than he was willing to admit.

He had said too much. Far more than he should have in his drunken state. Words spilled out of him, cracking through the cold, calculated exterior he usually maintained. He had shown you something raw, something he didn’t even think he was capable of—vulnerability. And for a brief moment, he had hoped—foolishly, he knew—that his words had reached you. That, despite everything, you would see what he was offering. That maybe, just maybe, it had tugged at your heart enough to make you stay. To choose him over the open door, to choose him over the freedom you so desperately craved.

But, just as he expected, you made your choice. And it wasn’t him.

The sting of it gnawed at him, the rejection simmering under his skin. He had allowed himself to feel something he had long considered a weakness, let down his guard for just a fleeting moment, and you had turned your back on him. He had given you the chance to see him as something more than the cold, possessive figure he had been. And yet, you had gotten out of bed, chasing the illusion of freedom.

It wasn’t just that you had tried to leave—it was that you had chosen to leave him. That, even after all the effort he had put into controlling, guiding, and shaping you, you had slipped away. He had thought he could bend you to his will, that with time, you would see there was no life for you beyond him. But clearly, you still hadn’t learned.

This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. You were his, even if you didn’t fully understand it yet. He saw something festering in your eyes. In your mind. You could run from your feelings, but Sylus knew better. You could try to escape, but in the end, you would come back. Either by choice or by force.

Either way, vulnerability was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat.

He told himself it was nothing, that your defiance was natural, a part of who you were. You just needed time. Time to understand, time to adjust. Time to realize that you were better off here, with him. You didn’t know it yet, but you needed him just as much as he needed you. Maybe more.

And forcing it? He had tried that. It didn’t work. The chain, the teasing, even the brief moments of affection, none of it had broken through yet. That was why he was ignoring you now, why he’d stopped giving you the attention he knew you craved, whether you admitted it or not. You had to come to him, and maybe a little distance would push you toward that realization. You just needed a little… push.

Sylus sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stood up, glancing toward the bed. He didn’t want to make things so cold between you two. It hurt him, too, to ignore you like this. Every time he saw you sitting there, doing something as simple as folding your clothes, his heart clenched. You didn’t even realize how cute you were, the way your face twisted in concentration as you neatly tucked each item away. The way you fumbled with the edge of your blanket, lost in thought, was enough to drive him mad.

Sometimes he’d catch himself watching you when you weren’t paying attention, your intricate fingers working on some small task, and he had to fight the urge to go over to you, to touch you, rip that nightgown off and hear those cute sounds you make as you squirm under him. There was something sweet, almost delicate, about the way you moved, unaware of how captivating you were.

But then, there was the chain. The damned chain.

His eyes darkened slightly as his gaze flickered toward the weight of that metal around your ankle. It bothered him more than it should have, seeing you restrained like that. It didn't suit you. It was large and imposing on your skin. He didn’t want you to feel trapped, at least not in a way that made you fear him. The chain was a necessity—for now. It was for your own good, to keep you safe, to keep you from running again. But the sight of it weighed on him, a small reminder of the lengths he had to go to keep you by his side. One day, you won’t need it, he promised himself.

One day, you’d stay because you wanted to. Right?

Sylus continued to gather the last of his belongings, his thoughts already on his impending return. The journey ahead was fraught with danger, much like the rest of his work. Business in the N109 Zone was never without risk, especially when it involved the kind of deals Sylus specialized in. The ones outside of it though...could be a little unpredictable. A new weapon had surfaced in the market, and with supply running low and demand soaring, things were bound to get chaotic. But Sylus had already secured his piece. Not because he needed it—no, it was merely bait. He had his eyes on a particular "fish," one that had been slipping through his fingers for weeks.

He had been keeping close tabs on your cycle, watching the days go by on the calendar. You had stopped bleeding while in captivity with Reese and now, it was just a matter of time. By the time he came back, he was sure his seed would take hold. That was why your recent "punishment" hadn't really been about discipline. It had simply been a means to ensure his seed was planted, without too much resistance. He knew you well enough by now. Had he hinted that you were ovulating, you would’ve fought, screamed, maybe even tried to hurt him—only to harm yourself in the process. Disguising it as punishment had been the simplest way to get you to comply.

He was well aware of your fear. He knew that if he pushed hard enough, you would obey. It wasn't what he truly wanted, but if playing mind games was what it took to reach the future he envisioned, so be it. Sylus was no stranger to playing the bad guy.

He would have everything he wanted by the time he got back—you by his side, in more ways than one. The thought of you swollen with his child, completely his, was enough to stir something dark and possessive inside him. He felt his cock slight stiffen at the thought, pooling almost desperate desires to have you under him one last time before he left. To ensure his seed would take.

Sylus moved quietly through the room, packing the last of his things into a sleek, black briefcase. His movements were slow, calculated, betraying nothing of the thoughts racing through his mind. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, now curled up in bed, your form tense beneath the blanket. He could sense your unease, feel the anxiety radiating off of you even though you hadn’t said a word.

Cute.

A silent chuckle echoed in his mind as he noted the way you stiffened the moment he began to approach. You gasped, almost imperceptibly, and tensed like a rabbit sensing a predator. He wanted to close the space between you, to cup your face, trace his fingers along your skin, and feel the heat of your breath against him before he left for the trip. But he held back. No, he had to maintain the cold distance he’d imposed. It was for your own good.

But damn, it was hard. He wanted to mark you, to remind you that you were his—no matter how far he went. Still, there was something delicious about your reaction, the way your eyes widened as he stopped beside the bed.

Why was everything you did so adorable?

You sat up slightly, your gaze locking onto him, every muscle in your body tense. You were clearly waiting for him to say something, to finally break the silence that had lingered like a heavy fog between you for days. Instead, he reached down, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair that was near your face. A piece of lint had gotten caught in it, likely from the laundry you’d folded earlier—one of the small, mundane tasks you’d taken to doing in your isolated state.

Sylus plucked the lint from your hair with an easy, almost gentle motion. It was such a simple, unassuming gesture, but it left you staring at him, taken aback. The look on your face was a mixture of confusion and something deeper, something Sylus could feel but couldn’t quite define. You were shocked by the touch, the sudden break in his cold routine. And then, before you could process it further, he turned his back on you, preparing to leave.

The silence was unbearable.

"Sylus..." Your voice broke through the quiet, trembling ever so slightly, and he felt something tighten in his chest. His back was still to you, but he could hear the frustration, the desperation lacing your words. "What's wrong with you?"

Your question hung in the air, and he felt his resolve waver for the briefest of moments. He wanted to turn around, to explain, to tell you that you hadn’t done anything wrong—that this distance, this coldness, was a game he hated just as much as you. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

"Stop playing your stupid games," you continued, your tone hardening as the frustration bled into anger. "You bring me back, chain me up again, just to ignore me? Asshole." There was venom in your voice, but it was laced with hurt, and Sylus could feel it.

A pang of guilt settled in his chest, but he pushed it down. You had tried to leave him, after all. He had expected it, even understood it, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt. Still, he had to maintain control. She just needs a little more time. He sighed softly, his back still turned to you as he gathered his thoughts.

You weren’t done, though. "You leave me alone for days, barely say a word, and now you’re going on some mysterious trip like nothing’s wrong?" Your voice cracked just slightly, betraying the emotion you were trying to hide. "Why do you even bother keeping me here if you’re just going to act like I don’t exist?"

Sylus swallowed, his jaw tightening. He wanted to answer you, to give you some reassurance, but the distance was necessary. For both of you. And besides, he had seen that look in your eyes before—confusion, anger, frustration. You were close. Close to realizing that he was the only constant in this world, the only one who cared enough to keep you safe, even if you didn’t understand that yet.

"This may be the last time we talk, kitten," he said, his voice colder than he felt. It pained him to keep up the facade, but he forced himself to continue. "Why not be nice in our potential final moments together?"

The words were a joke—he wasn’t planning on dying, not anytime soon—but the way your face contorted in shock, the hurt that flashed in your eyes, made something twist deep inside him. It was cruel, yes, but it was part of the game. You had to see what life would be like without him, even if only for two weeks.

He turned slightly, just enough to catch the look on your face. You were staring at him, wide-eyed, stunned by the cold indifference in his words. Your lips parted as if you were going to say something, but the words seemed to catch in your throat. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

What were you thinking? Were you hurt, confused, angry?

Sylus wanted to take it back. He wanted to tell you that he wasn’t going to die, that this was just another dangerous job, but it hurt him to say it. It hurt him to see you looking at him like that, but he couldn’t back down. He had to keep his distance. He had to let you come to him on your own terms.

But then, you broke the silence. "Well," you spat, your voice hardening again as the hurt morphed into anger, "at least if you die, it’ll be a lot easier getting away from this hellhole."

Sylus chuckled softly, though there was no real humor in it. He wasn’t surprised by your words—they were expected, even—but they stung nonetheless. He turned his back to you again, straightening his suit jacket as he prepared to leave.

"I’ve arranged for you to be fed three times a day," he said, his voice smooth and detached once more. "Mephisto will be keeping an eye on you while I’m gone. Any refusal to eat or bathe will be reported directly to me." He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle over you. "And I wouldn’t want to hear about any attempts to run again, kitten."

"I'll be sure to take apart that stupid bird while you're gone" you spat, laying back down again.

He walked toward the door, his hand resting on the handle, ignoring your tantrum. He didn’t turn around, didn’t give you the chance to say anything more. This was the hardest part—leaving you like this, with so much unsaid. He could feel the turmoil radiating from you, the confusion and anger clashing with something deeper, something he knew you weren’t ready to admit to yourself yet.

But he had to wait. Forcing it hadn’t worked, and now, with the distance between you growing, you’d have time to think, to realize that you needed him as much as he needed you. He would return, and when he did, he hoped that the time apart would have made you see things more clearly.

Without another word, Sylus stepped through the door and left, the weight of your gaze burning into his back the entire time.

Sylus descended the staircase of his mansion, his steps silent, but his thoughts anything but. His mind, which had been lingering on you, now shifted to something else that had been gnawing at him for some time.

The boy from Linkon.

He had recently received reports of a disturbance at the shoe store—one of his covert fronts for an illegal drug operation. It was nothing major, just another petty interruption. But the details? They were unmistakable. A man had walked in wielding a sword, babbling about protocores, asking questions about the twins and a missing girl before escaping in a ball of searing light. His associates had been nearly blinded in the chaos. They hadn’t managed to catch the culprit, but Sylus didn’t need confirmation. He knew exactly who it was.

Xavier.

The name burned in his mind like a festering wound. Sylus had always known that dealing with Xavier would be no easy feat. The boy was reckless, persistent, and—most infuriatingly of all—he still loved you. And worse, you loved him back. Sylus could feel it in every interaction, every fleeting look you gave when you thought he wasn’t watching. It was in the way you hesitated sometimes, the way you still held back, despite everything. You may not have spoken Xavier’s name since Sylus had threatened his life, but that hope—that dangerous, foolish hope—still flickered inside you. The hope that Xavier would come bursting in like some white knight to rescue you from his place.

Like hell Sylus would let that happen.

The mere thought of it stirred something violent inside him. He had worked too hard, done too much, to let some delusional hunter ruin his plans. You were his, and no one else had any claim to you. Not Xavier, not anyone. And if the boy thought he could just sweep in and steal you away, he would quickly learn how wrong he was.

Sylus’s grip on the banister tightened as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his jaw clenched in cold resolve. The game with Xavier was nearing its end. Sylus would not allow this boy to remain a thorn in his side much longer. Xavier’s love for you made him reckless, vulnerable. He would exploit that, get rid of Xavier once for all. Sylus would ensure he never got the chance to try a second time.

As Sylus stepped off the last stair, Luke appeared from the kitchen, casually munching on an apple with his mask tilted up just enough to expose his mouth. The moment he spotted Sylus, his demeanor shifted entirely. Panic flashed across his face as he hastily yanked the mask back down to cover himself, the half-eaten apple forgotten as he tossed it into a nearby trashcan. He quickly straightened his posture, standing rigidly at attention.

“Er-boss! Everything’s packed for you!” Luke stammered, his voice betraying his nervousness. “I can take your suitcase as well!”

His gaze flickered nervously toward Sylus, clearly unsettled. He had seen that energy in Luke's posture before—fear, the kind that made men trip over their words and scramble to stay in his good graces. Luke's hands fidgeted at his sides as if unsure whether to reach for the suitcase or wait for further orders.

Sylus didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch for a moment too long, just enough to make Luke sweat. His cold, calculating gaze swept over him, taking in every detail of the young man’s anxiety, before finally giving a subtle nod.

Sylus sighed, releasing the tight coil of tension that had built up in his body. There was no need for uncontrolled anger—at least, not yet. The pest would soon be dealt with, and once that distraction was removed, there would be nothing left to stand in the way of the future he envisioned. A future where everything fell perfectly into place.

“I have something to take care of first,” he said, his voice cool and deliberate, as if every word was a command in itself. “Make sure the chefs fully understand the strict instructions I gave about her meals while I’m away. Balanced nutrition. Have them repeat it back to you—every single detail.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze narrowing slightly as he fixed Luke with a look that could freeze blood. “I don’t want any mistakes.”

Without waiting for a reply, Sylus tossed the suitcase into Luke’s hands with casual indifference. Luke’s eyes widened as he scrambled to catch it, his fingers slipping momentarily on the leather handle. The weight of it nearly sent him teetering off balance, but he managed to steady himself, face flushed with embarrassment.

“Yes, boss! I’ll—uh—I’ll make sure of it!” Luke stammered, standing rigidly at attention, as if that might somehow erase his clumsy fumbling.

But Sylus had already turned away, his attention far beyond the room, far beyond Luke’s awkward attempts to regain his composure. His long strides took him toward the door with an air of certainty, as if the world itself bent to his will with every step.

Xavier. Xavier. Xavier.

The name echoed in his mind, an insistent drumbeat. He could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface again, but it was controlled—held in check by sheer force of will. Xavier. The boy had become more than a nuisance. He was a threat. A distraction that had lingered for too long. But that would soon change. Sylus had no intention of letting anything—or anyone—interfere with his plans.

Xavier had dared to love you, dared to think he could save you from the inevitable. The thought of it sent a dark thrill through Sylus’s chest. How naive. How foolish. Did Xavier truly believe he could stand between you and your rightful place at Sylus’s side?

Not a chance.

He would deal with Xavier swiftly, thoroughly. Once the boy was removed from the picture, there would be no more obstacles. No more fantasies of rescue. You would see things clearly, finally understand where you belonged. With him. Always with him.

As the door swung shut behind him, Sylus’s lips curled into a faint smile. Xavier had no idea what was coming. But Sylus did. He had planned for everything, anticipated every move. And soon, Xavier would be nothing more than a forgotten name. A foolish memory.

Nothing—absolutely nothing—would prevent Sylus from claiming the future he deserved. The future he would have with you.

Sylus had always been ten steps ahead. As soon as he had caught wind of Xavier’s desperate attempts to escape the N109 Zone, he had put his plan in motion. Word had spread quickly through the Zone's shadowy network—the kind of word that made people look over their shoulders and shut doors the moment they saw the boy approaching. No one dared to help him as the days passed. Not with the subtle but ever-present threat of Sylus looming over their heads. They knew what would happen if they defied him, and no one was foolish enough to test that.

Mephisto had been watching Xavier from the skies, tracking every move the boy made. It was almost pitiful, Sylus thought, how determined Xavier was, knocking on doors, pleading with anyone who would listen, trying to get someone—anyone—to process the SIM card he had found. The card that held all the damning evidence of what had happened in Reese’s basement. But it was futile. The boy had no idea why people turned him away with frightened eyes, why they avoided him as if he carried some curse.

Sylus felt a flicker of pity for him—how bewildering it must be for Xavier, seeing doors shut in his face, confusion mixing with anger as hope slowly bled out of him. But that pity was short-lived. Xavier had made his choice, and Sylus was about to make sure it was his last.

As Mephisto tracked Xavier’s latest movement, Sylus watched from the GPS feed in his jeep. The boy had finally given up on finding help within the N109 Zone. Likely desperate, he had chosen the hard way—going on foot, sword strapped to his chest, with nothing but determination keeping him moving. He was heading back to Linkon, likely hoping to catch some cell service once he left the Zone's signal-dead perimeter. It was a hopeless task, but Xavier didn’t know that. Not yet.

The boy was relentless, Sylus had to give him that. Mephisto’s feed showed Xavier’s ragged state—his clothes dusty, his eyes sunken with exhaustion. But he kept walking.

What a fool. Maybe he'd like some help.

Wasting no time, Sylus tracked him to his location and pulled up alongside the road in his sleek black jeep, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, his suit perfectly pressed despite the rough terrain. He brought the car to a slow roll as he neared Xavier, careful not to appear too eager.

He took in Xavier's disheveled appearance and stifled a laugh as he finally got a real life glimpse of the man you dared to call your lover. This was your knight in shining armor?

Xavier glanced over his shoulder at the approaching vehicle, his hand already gripping the hilt of his sword with wary blue eyes. Sylus could feel the boy's suspicion even through the tinted glass. He cracked the window, letting in the cold, arid air, and called out in an easy, practiced tone.

“Need a ride?” Sylus asked casually, his voice carrying the hint of a smile. “You look like you could use one.”

Xavier’s eyes narrowed, scanning the jeep and the man inside it. “And you are?” he asked, his voice rough, a mixture of caution and exhaustion. He didn’t let go of the sword, though it remained sheathed at his chest.

Sylus feigned mild surprise, raising an eyebrow as if the question had caught him off guard. “Just a passerby,” he said smoothly, adjusting the cuff of his suit sleeve. “I just got back from my daughter’s birthday dinner and thought I’d offer a lift. Figured you’d be tired of walking by now.”

Xavier’s suspicion deepened. His gaze flicked over Sylus’s clean hair, the well-tailored suit that seemed out of place in the desolate outskirts of the Zone. His grip on the sword tightened slightly, though he didn’t draw it. “You’re wearing a suit,” Xavier said, his voice dripping with distrust. “Why would you be all the way out here, wearing that?”

Sylus had anticipated the boy’s suspicion, but it didn’t faze him in the slightest. In fact, it was almost amusing. He had expected Xavier to be cautious, to scrutinize every word, every detail, but in the end, none of it really mattered. The boy wouldn’t figure out who he was—how could he? Sylus was an enigma, a shadow in the dark corners of the N109 Zone. His reputation may have spread like wildfire, but few had ever laid eyes on him. Not even a glance.

The genius of it all was that Sylus had made himself a ghost, a figure of whispered warnings and vague threats. His power rested not in his appearance but in his influence, his ability to control from a distance. To orchestrate chaos while remaining completely invisible. As far as Xavier knew, the man sitting behind the wheel of this sleek, black jeep could be anyone—just another passerby, another face in the crowd. That anonymity was what made Sylus dangerous.

So when Xavier narrowed his eyes, suspicion etched into every line of his face, Sylus remained perfectly calm, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at his lips. Let the boy wonder. Let him think. It wouldn’t change the outcome. Sylus always got what he wanted.

His fate was sealed.

Sylus smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He let the silence stretch just long enough to feel heavy between them. “Like I said,” Sylus replied, his voice smooth as silk. “I just came back from my daughter’s party. The restaurant was out of town, and this is the route I take back home.”

Xavier didn’t move. His eyes bored into Sylus, searching for cracks in the façade. Sylus could almost hear the boy’s thoughts, could feel the way Xavier was picking apart every word, every detail. But Sylus was calm, unbothered. He had done this dance too many times. He could see the exhaustion in Xavier’s posture, the way his legs trembled with fatigue, the faint glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, this stranger could help him get out of the Zone.

But the distrust remained. The boy wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t be easy to trick.

“You look too calm,” Xavier said finally, the edge of accusation in his voice. “No one from around here is that calm...or helpful.”

Sylus chuckled softly, as if the remark amused him. “I’ve lived in the N109 Zone for a long time,” he said, shrugging lightly. “You get used to the chaos after a while.”

Xavier’s eyes flickered with indecision. His instincts were telling him something was off, but the exhaustion in his limbs and the desperation gnawing at his mind were wearing him down. Sylus watched, a faint smile tugging at his lips as the boy’s resolve wavered. It was only a matter of time.

“You sure you don’t want a ride?” Sylus asked, leaning back in his seat. “The next town’s pretty far. It’s a long walk—especially on foot.”

For a moment, Xavier just stared at him, his brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. He knew something was wrong—Sylus could see it in his eyes. But fatigue was a powerful weapon, and Sylus knew just how to wield it.

The silence stretched on, thick with tension, as the two men sized each other up—one desperately looking for a way out, the other calmly calculating the exact moment to strike.

“No thanks,” Xavier muttered, his voice curt as he adjusted the strap of his sword and continued his walk past the car, not bothering to look back.

Sylus’s jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing across his otherwise calm demeanor. The boy wasn’t just persistent—he wasn’t stupid either. It was becoming clear that Xavier’s survival instincts were sharper than he had anticipated. Fine, two could play at that game. Sylus needed the boy in the car, and he wasn’t about to let his plan slip through his fingers over something as trivial as Xavier’s mistrust.

Without a word, Sylus reached over, twisting the keys in the ignition until the engine went silent. The mechanical purr of the jeep ceased, leaving only the sound of the wind rustling through the desolate landscape. He opened the door and stepped out, calling after Xavier before the boy could get too far.

“Wait,” Sylus said, his voice carrying with a casual ease that belied his annoyance. Xavier slowed, turning halfway to glance back, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sylus could sense the boy’s reluctance, the wariness etched in his every movement.

With a nonchalant flick of his wrist, Sylus tossed the car keys in Xavier’s direction. They spun in the air before landing in Xavier’s open palm, the boy catching them reflexively but frowning down at the unexpected gesture.

“How about this,” Sylus said smoothly, his tone relaxed, as though they were discussing something as simple as the weather. “You drive yourself to your destination, and I’ll drive myself back. No strings attached. Sound fair?”

Sylus knew Xavier couldn't refuse such an offer, and even if he wanted to, his love for you was more important to him than his own safety.

He would take the bait.

Xavier’s brow furrowed as he stared down at the keys, then back up at Sylus, who had already moved around the vehicle to the passenger side. The offer, on the surface, seemed absurd. What kind of stranger would be so willing to give up control of his own car to a random traveler on the side of the road? And yet, there Sylus stood, casually opening the passenger door as if they had made some mutual agreement. The ease with which Sylus handed over the keys was unnerving.

Xavier’s instincts screamed at him to keep walking, to leave this strange man and his too-kind offer behind. Something about this whole encounter was off—way off. But there was another part of him, the exhausted, desperate part, that couldn’t ignore the fact that his journey to Linkon was still painfully far from over. He had been walking for hours, pushing himself past the point of exhaustion, and the weight of the sword on his chest felt heavier with each step. He couldn’t shake the urgency pounding in his chest. He needed to get back to Linkon, and fast.

The SIM card tucked away in his pocket was his only lifeline. Without it, any hope of uncovering the truth of what happened in Reese’s basement would be lost. He needed to see it. But the odds of finding anyone out here who could process it? Slim to none. He was running out of time, and every step he took on foot made him feel like the distance between him and his goal was growing wider.

His eyes flicked back to the car keys in his hand, their weight oddly unsettling. Why was this man so eager to help? And why the hell was he offering the keys to his own car?

Xavier’s gaze darted back to Sylus, who had settled into the passenger seat without a trace of concern, leaning back as if this was the most normal thing in the world. His expression was calm, almost too calm, as though the outcome had already been decided in his favor. It unnerved Xavier. This man—this stranger—was too willing. Too casual. Too smooth.

But Xavier didn’t have time to figure it all out. His priority was clear: getting back to Linkon, getting the SIM card processed, and making sure the truth came to light of what happened to you. Without transportation, he could be walking for days, and every minute he spent out here increased the risk that he'd never find you.

The keys felt heavier now, the weight of the decision pressing on him. He didn’t trust this man, not by a long shot. But the idea of having control of the car, of being the one behind the wheel… it was tempting. Too tempting. If he was driving, there's no way this could be a trap right?

It would be fine. Yes. Anything for you. Even if it meant putting himself in danger.

With one last glance at the man, who was patiently waiting in the passenger seat, Xavier’s grip on the keys tightened. He didn’t say a word as he took a tentative step toward the driver’s side. Every instinct told him to keep walking, to leave this stranger behind and take his chances on foot. But exhaustion and desperation were powerful motivators, and right now, he needed to get back to Linkon more than he needed to figure out why this man was offering help.

Xavier climbed into the driver’s seat, the worn leather creaking beneath him as he adjusted to the unfamiliar space. His hand hovered over the ignition, eyes still darting toward Sylus, who sat quietly beside him, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Take us wherever you need to go,” Sylus said softly, his voice like velvet, as though the game had already begun. “I’m just along for the ride.”

The tension between them was palpable, thick in the confined space of the car. Xavier could feel it in the air, in the way Sylus’s gaze lingered on him, calm but unrelenting. He knew this wasn’t right—none of it was. But he was too far in to back out now.

With a sharp turn of the key, the engine roared to life, and Xavier gripped the steering wheel, feeling the weight of every decision he had made in the last few minutes. The road ahead seemed endless, and as the car pulled away from the desolate stretch of highway, he couldn’t help but glance sideways at the man again.

This...this could end badly.

The two men sat in crushing silence as Xavier navigated the unfamiliar roads, the hum of the engine the only sound between them. Each mile passed with a suffocating weight, the tension in the car palpable, like a storm ready to break. Xavier kept his eyes locked on the road ahead, hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary, his knuckles pale under the strain. He hadn’t wanted this stranger to know where he lived, so he punched City Hall into the GPS instead. From there, he could make his way around Linkon without anyone trailing him. He needed to get the SIM card processed, and fast, before time ran out.

Every few minutes, he fiddled with the GPS, his body coiled with a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline. He could feel the man's eyes on him, his name still unknown, even despite the sunglasses. He hadn’t said much since they set off, but his presence in the passenger seat was unnerving. His calm was unnatural, unsettling. He didn’t fidget, didn’t speak, didn’t even glance around the car. He just sat there, arms crossed, studying Xavier with a level of intensity that felt out of place for someone offering a simple ride.

Xavier tried to sneak glances at the man beside him, but every time he did, he found the mans gaze already on him, sharp and unblinking, as though he had anticipated Xavier’s every move. The man’s lips twitched with something like amusement, though he didn’t say a word.

What’s his deal? Xavier thought, forcing his eyes back to the road. The whole situation felt wrong. He had expected tension in the N109 Zone, but not this. This was different. The man beside him wasn’t just casually observing him—he was waiting for something. Every second that passed felt heavier than the last, like time itself was stretching, tightening the knot of anxiety building in Xavier’s chest.

Still, Xavier didn’t let any of it show. He had learned long ago how to hide his fear, how to stay calm when every nerve in his body screamed at him to run. He’d dealt with dangerous people before, people who could smell weakness like blood in the water. He wasn’t about to let this guy see that. But the silence between them was unbearable, thick with the weight of unspoken things.

Finally, Xavier broke it, his voice low and careful. “I didn’t get your name…” He asked, eyes darting between the GPS and the road, trying to sound casual, though he was anything but.

The man took a moment to respond, as though he were weighing the question, wondering if he should even answer it. His eyes flickered with a hint of something—amusement, perhaps. Or something darker.

“Skye,” he said eventually, his voice smooth, detached. He crossed his arms, leaning back in the passenger seat, as though the conversation were nothing more than a formality. “And you are…?”

Xavier’s heart kicked up a notch, but he kept his expression neutral. No way was he giving this guy his real name. “Anthony,” he lied easily, the false name slipping out without hesitation. His voice didn’t waver, his hands stayed steady on the wheel. But he could feel Skye watching him, a slight smirk pulling at his lips.

He knows I’m lying, Xavier thought, his gut twisting with unease. But Skye didn’t press. He didn’t even seem surprised. He just watched Xavier with that unnerving calm, as if the lie were nothing more than an expected move in a game they were both playing.

“Anthony,” Skye repeated softly, his tone almost mocking, though he didn’t push the issue. Instead, he let the silence fall between them again, a silence that felt even heavier now. He seemed content to let Xavier stew in it, the tension building with every second that passed.

Xavier’s eyes flicked back to the road, his mind racing. Something about this guy was all wrong. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it was all too calculated, too smooth. People didn’t act this calm in the N109 Zone, not unless they knew something everyone else didn’t. And Skye definitely knew something. The question was, what? And how much?

Xavier kept his gaze focused ahead, trying to ignore the weight of Skye’s eyes still on him. The man hadn’t looked away once. He could feel it, the silent scrutiny, the way Skye seemed to be measuring him. Assessing him.

“Where are you headed?” Skye asked casually, his voice cutting through the silence once more, though there was nothing casual about the way he said it.

Xavier didn’t miss a beat. “City Hall,” he answered, a little too quickly. He glanced at the GPS, as if confirming the destination would make the lie feel more real. He wasn’t taking this man to his home—no way. Not with the way things were already playing out.

Skye raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “City Hall,” he repeated, his tone light but laced with something that made Xavier’s skin crawl. “Not a bad place to end up, but pretty unusual for a first destination."

Xavier’s pulse kicked up, but he kept his face neutral, refusing to look over at Skye. Something in the man’s tone made his stomach tighten, like a hook had just been baited and dropped in front of him, waiting for him to take it.

Unusual? Why the hell would that be unusual? The thought ran through his mind, but he forced himself to stay calm. His plan had been simple—get to City Hall, lose this guy, and handle his business. But now, it felt like every move was being scrutinized, every choice questioned.

“City Hall's the easiest place to get a read on things in the city,” Xavier replied, his voice steady, though the defensiveness crept in at the edges. “I need to handle some things, and it’s central. Easier to move around from there.”

He could feel Skye’s eyes still on him, could almost hear the smirk in his voice when the man chuckled softly. It was the kind of laugh that got under your skin, not because it was loud, but because it carried a quiet, unsettling amusement.

“Smart,” Skye said slowly, nodding as if Xavier’s explanation made perfect sense. But something in his tone felt off, like he didn’t fully buy it. “But still… after some time in the N109 Zone, you’d think you’d want to rest somewhere less… official. Get off the radar. A nice bed, maybe.”

Xavier tightened his grip on the steering wheel, feeling the weight of Skye’s persistent questioning pressing down on him. Each word from Skye was like a carefully placed needle, poking at his decisions, making him second-guess everything. He hadn’t expected the guy to be so relentless, and the pressure was building with every exchange.

“I’ve got some stuff to take care of,” Xavier said, trying to keep his voice steady, casual, but the tension in his body betrayed him. “Time’s running out to save her, so I can’t waste a single second.”

The moment the words left his mouth, doubt flickered in his mind. Was that too much? Too rushed? The urgency in his voice—had it come across as desperate? Or worse, suspicious? His heart hammered in his chest as he mentally replayed what he had said, wondering if he had tipped his hand. Or had he been too vague? The ambiguity of his answer might have made Skye even more curious, pushing him to dig deeper, ask more questions.

Xavier kept his eyes on the road, refusing to look over at Skye, but he could feel the man watching him, studying him. The silence that followed his response was unnerving, stretching long enough for Xavier to feel like he’d made a mistake. He fought the urge to glance over, to see if Skye’s expression had changed, but his instincts screamed at him to stay composed. Any sign of weakness now, and Skye would pounce on it.

Too much, Xavier thought, cursing himself internally. I shouldn’t have let the urgency show.

Skye’s sudden shift in demeanor caught Xavier off guard. The icy coldness that had made the air feel suffocating was replaced with something else—something that felt even more dangerous. Concern. Pity. It dripped from Skye’s voice like honey, smooth and deliberate, but just artificial enough to send a ripple of unease through Xavier’s chest.

“Oh?” Skye said, his voice almost soft, a note of worry creeping in. “Seems serious.”

Xavier’s breath hitched slightly, his guard wavering for just a moment. He wasn’t prepared for this shift. The relentless scrutiny, the probing questions—he could handle that to a point. But this? This sudden turn toward sympathy, as fake as it felt, was a punch to the gut.

“It is,” Xavier muttered, his voice betraying the strain he was under. The words felt heavier than he intended, a sign of the cracks forming in his defenses.

Skye shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if he sensed something in Xavier’s voice. “You know,” he began, his tone deceptively gentle, “I understand what it’s like. When you want something so bad. And its almost in reach, yet so far. You feel like you've failed already."

The words struck hard, like a knife twisting in Xavier’s gut. For a brief moment, his mind went blank, the weight of Skye’s words sinking into him. The man’s voice, though still edged with that unsettling calm, carried a truth Xavier couldn’t deny.

Skye had unknowingly—or perhaps very knowingly—touched a raw nerve.

Xavier’s fingers flexed against the steering wheel, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. He tried to block it out, tried to keep his walls up, but he couldn’t stop the flood of emotion that came crashing through. His breaths quickened slightly, the tension in his body shifting from vigilance to something more raw, more vulnerable.

Skye was quiet, but Xavier could feel him waiting, giving him just enough space to fill the silence. His mind screamed at him to stay quiet, to shut it all down, but the pressure building inside him was too much to contain.

“I…” Xavier’s voice cracked, his throat dry. His hands trembled slightly as the words formed on his tongue. “I have someone waiting for me. She’s in danger. And I feel like I’m failing her with each passing second.”

The admission came out before he could stop it, the weight of his guilt and fear spilling into the space between them. He’d been holding it in for so long, running from one obstacle to the next, always trying to keep moving, to keep fighting. But now, in this moment, it all felt too heavy to carry alone. The pressure of failing you—of not getting back in time—had gnawed at him relentlessly, and now, it was too much to keep inside.

For a moment, the silence was deafening, his vulnerability hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

Xavier’s chest tightened, panic seeping in as the reality of what he’d just said hit him. He’d let his guard down—completely. He’d shown Skye more than he ever intended, more than anyone should know. He could feel the walls he’d carefully built crumbling around him.

And Skye was still watching, listening, absorbing every word.

He shifted slightly, his voice lowering, becoming softer, almost understanding. “You know,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “I’ve seen it before… that look in your eyes. Like you’re carrying something too heavy for one person. Trying to fix it all yourself. You can push as hard as you want, but…” He paused, letting the silence settle for just a beat before he continued, “the weight of failure starts to crush you, doesn’t it?”

Skye glanced out the window, his tone still calm, still smooth. “And the worst part? It’s when you realize that maybe, no matter how much you fight, you won’t get there in time. That you might be too late to save the people who need you.”

Xavier’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected much from this man—this stranger who seemed so out of place on these roads—but this? He had expected more questions, more veiled curiosity, maybe even some vague attempt at comfort. But what Skye had just said—those words, that insinuation—hit him like a punch to the gut.

The casual mention of failure. The suggestion that he was already too late. Was this guy trying to be an asshole?

Xavier’s chest tightened, his pulse quickening as the words churned in his mind, cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. “No,” Xavier said, his voice shaking slightly, the denial rising like a defense against the weight of Skye’s statement. “That’s not true. It’s not too late. I can still find her. I just—” He cut himself off, his voice thick with desperation.

But before he could even finish the thought, Skye’s demeanor changed in an instant. The false pity drained from his face, replaced by something far colder, sharper. His voice dropped, his tone void of the faint warmth that had laced it earlier.

“People like you should know when to quit.” The words were flat, cutting like ice. Skye lowered his sunglasses, his eyes gleamed with a new cruelty, his expression as still as stone. “It’s a shame you even tried in the first place.”

Xavier, caught slightly off guard by the crimson color of the eyes now boring into him, opened his mouth to argue, the frustration boiling over. How dare this guy—

But then something hit him, something beyond words. A creeping cold, seeping into his skin. At first, it felt like a mist settling over him, faint and barely noticeable, but it spread quickly, a numbing chill that slithered through his body, wrapping around his limbs like an invisible fog. His chest tightened as panic started to rise.

The cold red mist crept up his neck, stretching outward, reaching his arms, his fingers. And then—nothing. No feeling. His hands. He couldn’t feel his hands.

Xavier’s heart raced, his breath coming in short, frantic bursts as he looked down at the steering wheel. His hands were still there, gripping the wheel tightly, but the sensation was gone. His fingers felt as though they no longer existed, and worse, he couldn’t move them. He tried to force his body to respond, to shake off the creeping cold, but it was as if his muscles had turned to stone.

The steering wheel suddenly turned under his grip, and the car began to drift. Panic surged through him. He tried to shout, tried to move, but his body refused to obey. The cold mist had taken control, and now it stretched through every inch of him, locking him in place, paralyzing him completely.

This wasn't him moving it.

What the hell is happening?!

He wanted to scream, to fight, but his limbs remained useless, his mind screaming in terror as the car veered off its course. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe properly, and then it hit him—this was him. Skye. Skye was doing this.

Skye hadn’t moved from the passenger seat, but the aura around him had darkened, the shift in his demeanor unmistakable. The cold that gripped Xavier’s body—this mist—was him. And this wasn’t some accident. This was planned.

Skye had been waiting for this moment.

Xavier’s mind raced as the reality sank in, dread curling in his gut like a beast ready to devour him whole. He could see it in the cold gleam of Skye’s eyes now, the man having removed his sunglasses completely. The man had never intended for this to end peacefully.

He tried one last time to move, to will his body to do anything, but the cold mist had stolen everything from him.

Skye leaned in slightly, his presence looming over Xavier like a shadow, cold and unrelenting. His tone dropped, devoid of any warmth or pretense. “Don't bother fighting. I’ve already decided how this ends.”

The car was fully off the road now, speeding, barreling toward a tall tree. Xavier’s mind screamed, the terror paralyzing his thoughts. He was about to be made into a casualty, another statistic—a crash that would look like an accident, neat and tidy. He couldn't even shut his eyes to brace for the inevitable impact.

Closer. And closer. And-

Xavier's phone ringing cut through the chaos, snapping both men's attention.

The sudden, shrill sound sliced through the thick tension in the car, jarring Xavier out of his rising panic. The ringtone echoed in the confined space, pulling his attention away from the tree, from the creeping red mist that had taken over his body. The sound was so out of place, so normal amidst the terror, that for a moment, it didn’t seem real.

It must've caught signal again.

Skye’s eyes flicked toward the phone, his expression unreadable, but Xavier saw the faintest twitch of something—something like interest or annoyance—cross his face. The car suddenly veered back on course as if it was not just about to plunge into a tree, dooming its driver.

The phone continued to ring, vibrating against the dash, relentless.

For a brief second, the pressure on Xavier’s hands loosened, the grip Sylus had on him flickering, just enough for Xavier to feel the tiniest bit of control return. It wasn’t much—he still couldn’t move fully—but it was enough to know that the phone had interrupted something, that it had momentarily disrupted Skye’s hold.

Skye’s gaze darkened, his calm demeanor slipping ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing at the sudden disruption. The mist that had coiled around Xavier’s body seemed to pause, just for a moment, as if Sylus was reconsidering. Calculating something.

The phone kept ringing.

Xavier’s heart pounded, a mix of hope and fear swirling inside him. He looked down at the contact name.

Captain Jenna

His phone had stopped the inevitable, if only for a moment. His eyes darted toward the screen, the bright contact photo lighting up the car. This was his lifeline, the only thing keeping Sylus from finishing what he had started.

Skye’s lips curved into a tight smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Duty never stops for Linkon's best hunters hm?”

His voice was low, almost mocking, but there was something behind it, a flicker of curiosity, as though the phone call had shifted something in his mind. Sylus’s hold on Xavier wasn’t entirely broken, but the red mist began to recede ever so slightly, its grip loosening as Sylus seemed to consider his next move.

For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, hanging on the precipice of whatever decision Skye was about to make. The phone rang again, insistent, demanding attention.

Skye leaned back slightly, his cold demeanor returning, but with a spark of something else. “Maybe,” he grinned, almost to himself, “I should let the other person on the line hear your screams before your imminent death?"

The mist, which had been suffocating Xavier moments before, suddenly retracted, slithering away like a serpent disappearing into the shadows. The sensation returned to his limbs, though weak and shaky. His hands were his own again, but Xavier couldn’t bring himself to move.

Skye eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched Xavier’s shock and confusion, the boy still frozen in the driver’s seat. “Answer it,” Skye said softly, a quiet command, but with an underlying threat. “Let’s see what she has to say.”

Xavier’s hand trembled as he reached for the phone, still feeling the lingering numbness from the mist that had wrapped around him moments before. His heart was pounding, but he forced himself to answer, trying to regain control, trying to steady his breathing. His mind raced as he glanced nervously at Skye, whose amused smirk remained firmly in place.

“Hello?” Xavier managed to get out, his voice shaky but improving.

“Xavier?” Captain Jenna’s voice crackled through the speaker, filled with a mix of relief and frustration. “Where exactly have you been? No one’s been able to contact you! You can’t just go off and disappear like that for days and days on end!”

Xavier winced at the urgency in her tone. She had always been direct, never wasting time sugarcoating things. He could hear the worry layered underneath her sternness, and for a moment, a wave of guilt hit him. He had been so focused on his mission, on everything happening in the N109 Zone, that he hadn’t even thought about how it might look to his colleagues.

“I…I’m sorry,” Xavier said, shooting a quick glance at Skye, who raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Something came up that I had to take care of. I didn’t mean to disappear.” His eyes darted back to the road, the weight of Skye’s gaze still heavy on him. He kept his tone measured, trying to sound calm. “I’m on my way back now.”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a deep sigh from Captain Jenna. “Regardless, I’m glad you’re safe. We need you for an operation in—”

Xavier’s heart raced. He couldn’t let Skye overhear anything about the association, about their secrets or what was going on back at headquarters. Whatever this man—this monster—was after, it wasn’t something he could afford to share.

Before Captain Jenna could continue, Xavier cut her off, his voice a bit too sharp in his haste. “You can explain everything when I get there,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual but failing to mask the underlying urgency. “I’m almost there.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and for a moment, Xavier worried he might have raised her suspicion, but Captain Jenna eventually replied, her voice softer. “Alright. Just get back safe. We’ll talk soon. We also need to talk about your...partner”

Xavier gulped at the mention of you, but simply exhaled slowly as the call ended, his hand lowering the phone from his ear, feeling the intensity of the moment crashing down around him. He didn’t dare look at Skye just yet, trying to collect his thoughts, trying to figure out what his next move would be.

When he finally glanced over, Skye was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, his expression calm but with an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Well,” Skye said, the smirk deepening, “it seems like you’ve been keeping busy.”

Xavier felt the weight of the man’s words, the way they lingered in the air like a challenge. Skye knew more than he was letting on, but he wasn’t pressing—for now. It was as if he were waiting, watching, enjoying the little puzzle Xavier presented.

But Xavier wasn’t about to give him any more pieces. He’d already said too much. This guy wanted something from him, something to do with the Hunter's Association. Why else would he target Xavier?

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Xavier began, forcing his voice to sound steadier than he felt, “but I can promise you I don't have it. If you're after the associations secrets, killing me wont get you any closer".

He forced himself to meet Skye’s gaze, trying to hold onto whatever composure he could muster. But the way Skye looked at him, with those unreadable eyes, made it impossible to know whether his words were even having an effect. His tone had been sharp, maybe too sharp, but he couldn’t afford to show weakness now. Not with someone like him.

For a moment, the air in the car grew even heavier. Skye’s expression barely shifted, but Xavier caught the brief flicker in his eyes—was it intrigue? Curiosity? Or was there something darker lurking just beneath the surface? Xavier couldn’t tell. It was like staring into the depths of an ocean (a very red one at that), unsure of what might lie beneath the calm.

Skye didn’t respond right away. His gaze remained steady, almost too calm, as if he were savoring the tension, letting it stretch between them like a taut string ready to snap. Xavier’s stomach twisted, his mind racing with possibilities—was Skye sizing him up, or just toying with him? It was impossible to know.

After what felt like an eternity, Skye tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Who said I wanted the association’s secrets?”

The words sent a chill through Xavier. The way Skye said it—so casually, as if the association wasn’t even part of the equation—left Xavier feeling more vulnerable than before. Skye had just dismissed his entire assumption without a second thought. If he wasn’t after the association’s secrets, then what was he really after?

Xavier’s pulse quickened, his mind scrambling to keep up. If Skye wasn’t interested in the association, what could he possibly want from him? And worse—why was he keeping him alive?

Skye leaned back in the passenger seat, his amusement clear now. “You think too small, Xavier,” he said, his voice smooth and unhurried, as though they were simply having a conversation. “I don’t need to kill you for information. That’s too… crude.”

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm wild and erratic, but he kept his face neutral, refusing to let the panic show. His mind raced, trying to grasp what had just happened. Skye had called him by his real name. And Xavier was sure—positive—he had introduced himself as Anthony. But Skye hadn’t hesitated. He knew.

“How do you know my name?” Xavier asked, keeping his voice steady, though inside, the tension coiled tighter. His thoughts were a blur, his instincts screaming at him that something was very, very wrong.

Skye tilted his head slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips, as if Xavier had just said something amusing. “What do you mean?” Skye replied, his tone light, almost playful. He leaned back, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “Didn’t your captain just call you Xavier?”

Xavier blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. His mind scrambled, piecing together the conversation, and then it hit him. Of course. The phone call. His captain had said his name during the call. Skye had been listening the entire time. Idiot. He mentally slapped himself, feeling foolish for even asking the question.

He sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He was losing control of the situation, and the casual way Skye was toying with him only made it worse. But Xavier couldn’t afford to get rattled now—not when his life was hanging by a thread.

“What do you want?” Xavier asked, his voice quieter now, more measured. He could feel the weight of Skye’s gaze on him, sharp and calculating. “What do you want in return for my life if not information on the Hunter's Association?”

Skye chuckled softly, the sound light but dripping with malice. He looked out the window for a brief moment, as if pondering the question, then slowly turned back to Xavier, his smile deepening. “I don’t usually make deals where I don’t get more of a benefit.”

Xavier swallowed hard, his heart racing faster, though he kept his face expressionless. He didn’t respond—he was waiting, watching Skye carefully. The man’s words were a game, just like everything else he’d said. Xavier knew there had to be more, some twist, some condition that hadn’t been revealed yet.

Skye leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “However…” He paused, as if savoring the moment, watching Xavier closely. “I've realized you're much more useful to me alive than dead. If you stay away from the N109 Zone—and everyone in it—you’ll live.”

Xavier’s breath caught in his throat, the weight of the ultimatum settling over him. Stay away from the Zone. That meant cutting ties with everything he’d worked to find, abandoning the hope of finding you, abandoning you. Could he even afford to do that? Would agreeing with this deal mean he'd never get the chance to see you again?

Also how was he useful to Skye?

"And if not..."

Skye’s smirk widened, sensing the internal struggle playing out behind Xavier’s calm facade. He leaned in closer, invading Xavier’s personal space, his presence suffocating. Xavier instinctively tried to pull back, but there was nowhere to go—the car’s cabin suddenly felt too small, too enclosed.

“Lets just say I don't really give second chances,” Sylus whispered, his voice low, dripping with menace.

Xavier swallowed hard, his body tensing, but he forced himself to maintain eye contact, even as the urge to run surged through him. Skye was too close, too calm, too dangerous. The warning wasn’t just a threat—it was a guarantee. Sylus had already proven what he was capable of, and Xavier knew that crossing him again would mean death, or worse.

The silence in the car was heavy, suffocating, as Skye leaned back again, his smile never fading, his eyes never leaving Xavier.

“So,” Skye said, his voice almost casual now, as if they were discussing something far less deadly. “What’s it going to be?”

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest as Skye’s words echoed in his mind. Stay away from the N109 Zone—and everyone in it? The weight of the ultimatum pressed down on him, suffocating. He didn’t want to abandon the N109 Zone, and even more than that, he couldn’t abandon you. The thought of leaving you behind gnawed at him, the sharp pain of longing cutting through him like a blade.

He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining your face—how much he longed to see you again, to hold you, to feel your warmth. It had been too long since he’d last heard your voice, since he’d last felt any sense of peace. But now, this? This deal with a devil, this impossible choice?

Xavier wasn’t sure why Skye was so insistent on keeping him away from the N109 Zone. Maybe it had something to do with his work as a hunter—his job was to take down people like Skye, after all. But that didn’t matter. What mattered now was survival. Because if he didn’t agree, if he didn’t concede right here and now, Skye might just kill him on the spot.

And then who would save you?

The thought gripped him like a vice, twisting his insides. No. He couldn’t let that happen. If he died here, there would be no one left to protect you. No one left to pull you out of whatever darkness was festering over the N109 Zone. He had to live, for you.

Xavier took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing the words out, even as they weighed heavy on his soul. “Fine,” he said, his voice low, barely more than a whisper. “I agree. I’ll stay away from it.”

Skye’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, the faintest smile curling at the edges of his lips. He nodded, his demeanor cooling instantly, the menacing presence he’d exuded just moments ago receding into something more neutral. “Good,” Skye said, his voice soft but still holding that dangerous undertone. “I knew you’d see reason.”

The tension in the car seemed to shift, though the air was still thick with the unspoken threat that hung between them. Skye leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed now, as if the deal had wiped away any lingering tension. Skye was certainly dangerous, but seemed to be a man of his word at least.

Xavier forced himself to nod, though the weight of the decision felt like it was crushing him. I’ll find a way, he told himself, his mind racing. Skye’s only one guy. He can’t keep me out of there forever, right? There had to be a way back in. A way to find you. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—abandon you.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, the tension still hanging in the air but now subdued, like a coiled snake waiting for the right moment to strike. Xavier’s thoughts churned, his mind battling with itself as the distant lights of the city began to appear on the horizon. The rising sun painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Xavier saw the light breaking through the darkness.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the sun brush against his skin. How long has it been? Too long. He had missed the sun. He had missed the light, the feeling of something familiar, something safe. But most of all, he missed you.

But this wasn’t the end. Skye was only one man. He couldn’t keep Xavier away from the N109 Zone forever. Xavier would find a way back—he had to. He wouldn’t rest until he found you, until he knew you were safe. And once he did, Skye would regret ever making this deal.

As the city drew closer, the familiar skyline of Linkon coming into view, Xavier’s pulse quickened. The tall buildings glistened in the morning light, their architecture grand and imposing. But even with the comforting familiarity of home, his mind remained restless.

Finally, the car pulled to a stop in front of City Hall. The building stood tall and unyielding, its imposing columns and grand facade casting long shadows across the street. Without wasting a second, Xavier pushed the door open and stepped out hurriedly, the weight of his decision still heavy on his shoulders.

He stood for a moment, looking up at the structure, taking in its architecture. It felt strange, being back in the city after everything that had happened. But he wasn’t here for reflection. He was here for answers.

Xavier’s hand instinctively moved to the pocket on his chest, patting the place where the SIM card was safely tucked away. The key to everything. Whether Skye was after associations secrets didn't matter now, the information on that SIM card was everything Xavier needed right now. It could give him answers, maybe even lead him to you. It was his only chance to understand what had happened in Reese’s basement, and where you had possibly gone.

With a deep breath, he turned back toward the car—only to find that Skye had already sped off, leaving nothing but the faint smell of exhaust in the air. The man was gone, disappearing into the distance as if he’d never been there at all.

Xavier stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where the car had been, his mind still whirling with thoughts. This isn’t over, he told himself again. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Skye’s shadow would loom over him, no matter where he went.

But for now, he had work to do.

With one last glance at the distant city skyline, Xavier turned and made his way past city hall, heading straight for headquarters, the weight of the SIM card in his pocket a constant reminder of what was at stake.

And of what was still to come.

“Caw! Caw!”

Your eyes snapped open, the sound cutting through the suffocating darkness. For a moment, you couldn’t tell where you were—the inky blackness of the N109 Zone was so complete that it pressed in on you from all sides. There was no light here, not even the faintest glow filtering in through the windows. Just endless, crushing darkness.

You groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around your body as if it could shield you from the cold reality of your situation.

Not yet. You just wanted to get lost in your dreams for a little while longer.

Through the thick stillness of the room, you could hear the faint rustling of feathers, and even without seeing, you knew exactly what had disturbed your sleep.

“Go away, you stupid fucking bird…” you muttered into the blanket, your voice hoarse and tired. But the familiar flap of wings told you the crow wasn’t going anywhere.

There was a slight rustle at the head of the bed, and then you felt it—the sudden weight of the bird landing on the pillow next to you. Its presence was unmistakable, a cold, ominous shadow in the already oppressive darkness. You didn’t need to see the bird to feel its eyes on you, watching, waiting.

You sighed heavily, pulling the blanket away from your face just enough to squint into the darkness. Mephisto's shape was barely visible, a faint silhouette against the dim outline of the room. Even without light, you could sense the bird’s beady eyes, glowing with unnatural intelligence, watching your every move.

“Why are you always here?” you groaned, turning your head to the side but not making any real effort to shoo the bird away. It wasn’t the first time you’d woken to find the crow lurking in the shadows, unsettling and always too close for comfort.

The bird didn’t move, only cocked its head at you, its dark feathers rustling in the silence. A low, throaty caw escaped it, the sound strangely muffled by the thick blackness of the Zone. The air felt heavier here, like it was weighing down on you, draining what little energy you had left. Fatigue clung to you like a second skin, making it hard to even lift your head from the pillow.

“Go on, then…” you muttered, voice trailing off as exhaustion tugged at your body. You were too tired to fight, too tired to care. Whatever strange game the bird was playing, you didn’t have the strength to resist.

Mephisto's soft caw echoed in the suffocating stillness, the sound barely audible but enough to gnaw at your nerves. The scrape of his claws on the pillow sent an uncomfortable chill through you, his dark presence creeping closer, settling into the shadows like it belonged there. The oppressive darkness of the N109 Zone outside made it impossible to see him clearly, but you didn’t need to. You could feel him—watching, waiting, like he always was.

For a moment, the room was silent again. Then, without warning, Mephisto took flight, the sharp flutter of wings cutting through the air as he landed somewhere across the room. You didn’t bother to follow his movement, too tired to care. Not until his caw broke the silence once more. And again. And again.

The crow’s incessant cawing drilled into your already frayed nerves, each sound louder than the last. You groaned, pulling the blanket tighter over your head in a futile attempt to block him out. But the bird’s persistence didn’t stop. Caw. Caw. Caw.

“Are you serious?” you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled. But Mephisto continued, relentless, as if mocking your exhaustion. The weight of the past few weeks pressed down on you—sleepless nights, endless fatigue, nausea creeping at the edges of your mind. The last thing you needed was this damn crow breaking what little peace you had.

Finally, you had enough. With a frustrated groan, you sat upright and turned the lamp on, ready to scream every obscenity you could think of at the annoying bird.

But before you could let the words fly, the sound of metal scraping against metal stopped you.

Your eyes darted to the door just as a small slit opened, and the tray was pushed through with a loud clank. On the tray sat a plate of buttered French toast, syrup drizzled generously on top, fried eggs glistening with oil, and three thick slices of bacon.

You blinked, staring at the meal as if it were the most absurd thing you’d ever seen.

Breakfast? All of that noise and irritation—for breakfast?

You glanced at Mephisto, who had now stopped cawing and perched himself smugly atop a shelf in the corner of the room. His beady eyes seemed to gleam in the darkness, and you could swear there was a mocking glint in them. As if he were proud of himself for his part in waking you.

“The hell, Mephisto?” you muttered, rubbing your temples in frustration. “You woke me up…for breakfast?”

The crow gave a final, low caw, as if satisfied with himself. You glared at him for a moment before your stomach growled, betraying your irritation. The rich smell of bacon and syrup filled the room, and despite your fatigue and frustration, your body responded.

“Unbelievable…” you sighed, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “I guess I can’t be mad at you. But next time? A little less cawing, alright?”

Mephisto tilted his metal head, as if considering your request, then fluffed his feathers and settled into silence. For now.

You dragged the tray toward the couch, the familiar clank of metal chains following you with every step. The buttery smell of the French toast filled the room, a comforting contrast to the cold, oppressive dim darkness of the room. It was a simple pleasure, one you rarely allowed yourself to enjoy. Sitting down, you tucked your legs beneath you and began to eat, the warm toast melting on your tongue, the crisp bacon adding a much-needed crunch to the silence.

But as you chewed, your thoughts began to drift, slipping away from the meal in front of you. Unwillingly, they went back to him.

Sylus.

The room was empty now, and yes, you had often eaten breakfast alone—but more times than not, Sylus had been there. His presence had always loomed, a constant shadow in your confined world. Sometimes he was silent, simply watching you with those cold, unreadable eyes. Other times, he would speak, absently chatting about his ventures outside the N109 Zone, about deals made or enemies eliminated. You had never cared much for the details—most of it sounded like distant noise, some half-forgotten memory—but even then, it had been more entertaining than staring at these four black walls.

A scowl crept across your face as you took another bite. Why the hell are you thinking about that prick now?

You shook your head, frustrated. You were alone now. Sylus was gone, off somewhere dealing with whatever business had called him away, and you should be enjoying this time without him. You should be savoring the silence, the freedom from his looming presence. You should be grateful that he wasn’t here, filling the space with his mind games, his cold, possessive gaze always tracking your every movement.

Fuck him.

You stabbed at a piece of bacon, chewing aggressively as if it could help rid him from your thoughts. He was a manipulative bastard. And yet… despite your best efforts, his presence lingered in your mind, as persistent as ever.

Your gaze drifted to the empty space where he would normally sit, his absence both a relief and an unsettling reminder. You had despised him, hated every moment he had been there, the way he made you feel like a pawn in whatever twisted game he was playing. But now that he was gone, the space felt… strange.

Stop it. You shouldn’t be thinking about him. Not now. Not when he was out of your life—if only for a while.

But even as you tried to push him from your mind, one of his last words echoed in your head, an unshakable whisper: “This may be the last time we talk, kitten.”

The way he had said it, that cold finality in his voice, had stuck with you, nagging at the back of your mind ever since. He had called you that damn pet name after days of ignoring you, his voice dripping with condescension, as if he were giving you a final warning. Or a promise.

You hated it. You hated how those words seemed to hang over you, even now, as if he had left part of himself behind in this room, even after he was gone.

“Kitten.”

You shook your head again, harder this time, trying to shove the memory aside. No, you told yourself. You wouldn’t let him get to you, not like this. He was gone. For now, you were alone. Enjoy it while it lasts, you thought bitterly, taking another bite of French toast, the syrup coating your tongue in sweetness.

But no matter how hard you tried, that final word—kitten—kept echoing in the back of your mind, a lingering reminder that Sylus might be gone for now, but he was far from finished with you.

You forced yourself to focus on the meal in front of you, determined to push any lingering thoughts of Sylus away. You chewed quickly, finishing the French toast, the syrup leaving a sticky sweetness on your lips. The bacon and eggs soon followed, and though the food was far from satisfying, it was enough to momentarily distract you. You let the warmth of the food settle in your stomach, willing the heaviness in your chest to dissipate with it.

"No drink to wash this down?" you muttered, annoyed that the chefs had seemingly forgotten yet again.

With the last bite taken, you placed the empty plate back on the tray and rose from the couch, the clink of metal cuffs reminding you of your ever-present situation. The chains dragged behind you as you moved toward the bathroom, passing Mephisto, who had settled back onto his perch in the corner. His black feathers were fluffed up, his head tucked beneath a wing, and for once, the bird seemed content to leave you in peace.

You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. At least now, with breakfast behind you, you could take a moment for yourself.

The bright lights of the bathroom strained your eyes as you flicked them on. The chill of the tile beneath your feet made you shiver as you moved toward the shower, feeling the exhaustion settle deeper into your bones. The mirror reflected your tired eyes, the dark circles beneath them, the weight of sleepless nights etched into your face. You needed this—the chance to feel clean, to wash away the grime of the past few days. Maybe then you could feel a little more like yourself.

With a sigh, you began to undress, your fingers reaching for the clasps at the sides of your underwear. You couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of gratitude as you unclasped the sides with ease. Sylus had, at the very least, provided you with something that made life a little more bearable. You didn’t have to go bare for two weeks, which had been your fear the moment you realized the cuffs restricted you from putting on anything that required more movement.

At least he wasn’t completely cruel, you thought, though you hated giving him even that much credit.

The underwear unclasped easily, falling to the floor as you stepped into the shower. The hot water hit your skin like a wave of relief, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe, closing your eyes and letting the steam rise around you. The weight of the cuffs dragged slightly at your wrists, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the heat that loosened the tension in your muscles, if only temporarily.

As the water washed over you, you forced your mind to stay present, to focus on the warmth, the small comfort of being alone in this space. You scrubbed your skin, letting the soap and water cleanse the sweat, the fear, the exhaustion that had clung to you like a second skin.

You weren’t thinking about him. Not now.

The shower passed without incident, the warm water a brief respite in an otherwise unchanging routine. You let it wash over you, not bothering to rush. There was no need to hurry—nothing would be different when you stepped outside the bathroom. The four black walls of your confined world would still be waiting, the ever-present weight of captivity pressing down on you.

You dressed slowly, fingers lazily fastening the clasps on your new underwear and pulling on the rest of your clothes. It was a mundane task, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care much. What was the point? Nothing was going to change outside of this small space. Nothing ever did.

With a sigh, you stepped through the bathroom opening and stepped back into the main room. The dim light from the lamp did little to brighten the space, but something caught your eye near the door—a small bottle, sitting neatly on the floor.

You walked over, the clink of your chain echoing in the silence as you crouched down to pick it up. A small bottle of apple juice. You stared at it for a moment, turning it over in your hands. Ah. So the chefs finally remembered your drink.

You examined the label, noticing the word "organic" printed in bold letters across the front. A scoff escaped your lips as you raised an eyebrow. Organic? Really?

It wasn’t like you had asked for anything fancy. Just apple juice. Something simple, a small comfort in a world that was anything but. But the idea that the chefs had gone out of their way to make sure it was organic felt almost laughable. As if the quality of the juice would somehow make up for everything else. As if this one, carefully selected bottle could erase the chain around your ankle or the suffocating darkness that clung to every corner of the N109 Zone.

You shook your head with a faint smirk, unscrewing the cap. The liquid inside swirled lazily as you brought the bottle to your lips, the familiar taste of apples flooding your senses. It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was probably the best thing you’d had in days.

Still, the absurdity of it lingered, and the small humor in the situation wasn’t lost on you. Organic apple juice, of all things, in a place like this. It almost made you laugh—almost.

You took another sip, walking back to the couch where your breakfast tray still sat, the weight of the cuffs dragging slightly as you moved. You sat down, staring at the empty plate, the apple juice bottle still in hand. For a moment, the silence stretched, and the thoughts you’d been pushing away started to creep back in.

But no. You wouldn’t let them take over. Not now. Not yet.

Instead, you focused on the small sweetness of the juice, the faint taste of apples grounding you in the present moment. A small comfort in an otherwise impossible world.

Time passed, though you weren’t sure how much. Minutes? Hours? The stagnant silence of the room made it impossible to tell. The dim light never changed, the walls never shifted. Everything felt stuck in place, leaving you floating in a haze of monotony, barely tethered to the reality outside your mind.

It wasn’t until you heard the familiar scrape of metal against metal that you realized lunch had been passed through the small opening in the door. You glanced toward the tray and sighed. Another meal, another reminder of how routine your captivity had become.

Grilled chicken sandwiches with a side salad, the tangy scent of vinegar dressing wafting up as you sat back down on the couch. For a drink, water. The sight of it barely registered. You gave the chef your dirty dish from earlier and took your new meal. You ate out of necessity, chewing mechanically as your thoughts drifted away from the plate in front of you.

Xavier.

His name filled your mind suddenly, unbidden, and a sharp pang of worry twisted in your chest. You tried to swallow it down with a bite of chicken, but it lingered, heavy and insistent.

Was he okay?

You hadn't allowed yourself to think about him much since you’d been taken here. The thought of him searching for you, desperately trying to figure out what had happened, was too much to bear. The last thing you wanted was to feel hope. Hope was dangerous, a slippery slope into despair. But now, as you sat alone in this suffocating room, your thoughts strayed to him without your permission.

Had he given up searching for you?

You forced yourself to take another bite, trying to ground yourself in the present. But the idea gnawed at you. Xavier was relentless. He wouldn’t stop—not unless… No. You shook your head. You knew him better than that. If there was even the slightest chance that you were alive, Xavier would be searching, tearing apart the world to find you. He wasn’t the type to give up. He couldn’t give up.

But still, even as you tried to cling to that thought, the darker possibility crept in. Slowly, insidiously, like a poison sinking into your veins.

What if… he couldn’t find you because Sylus wouldn’t let him?

A chill ran through you, cold and unsettling. Even if, by some miracle, Xavier had tracked your location, there was no way he’d get anywhere near this place without Sylus knowing. Sylus had eyes everywhere. He controlled everything in the N109 Zone. No one could move in or out without his permission. If Xavier had found you, Sylus would have stopped him.

Or worse.

Your stomach churned, the food on your plate suddenly unappetizing. A horrifying thought started to crawl its way into your mind, gripping you tightly. You tried to push it away, but it clawed its way to the surface.

Had Sylus… killed him?

You swallowed hard, the tang of vinegar burning your throat as you forced the food down. The thought stuck in your chest like a stone. Was that why you hadn’t felt any hope? Why everything had felt so bleak, so final? Because somewhere, out there, Xavier was—no. You couldn’t let yourself believe that. Not now. Not when the possibility of his death could unravel you completely.

But still, the idea sat there, festering, filling the silence with dread. Sylus wouldn’t have hesitated if he saw Xavier as a threat. The cold, calculated way he moved, the ease with which he eliminated obstacles in his path—it was entirely possible that Xavier had become just another casualty in Sylus’s game.

You set down the sandwich, your appetite gone. Your mind raced, heart hammering against your ribs as you sat there, staring at the black walls that had closed in around you for what felt like an eternity. If Xavier was dead, then what? What did that leave you with? Nothing but these four walls and Sylus’s twisted version of captivity.

No.

You couldn’t think like that. Not now. You couldn’t give up. Not yet.

Xavier had to be alive. He had to be out there, still fighting, still searching. He wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t abandon you. You refused to believe anything else.

But no matter how hard you tried to push it away, the seed of doubt had already been planted. And it wasn’t going anywhere. You clutched your stomach as a surge of pain cramped in your lower abdomen. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone. Chalking it up to the food, you decide to lay down.

The fifth day. At least, you thought it might be. Time had blurred into a strange, formless thing, slipping through your fingers without any markers to distinguish one day from the next. You had no way of knowing how long it had been since Sylus left, or even what day it was. You were just staring at the ceiling now, your mind slowly unraveling from the sheer weight of boredom.

The darkness of the N109 Zone outside was relentless, pressing in from all sides, and the oppressive silence only seemed to make it worse. You had run out of things to think about, your mind turning over the same memories, the same thoughts—where was Xavier? Was Sylus really gone?—until they became noise. Background static.

You turned your head, your eyes landing on Mephisto, perched nearby. He was preening his feathers, utterly unconcerned with your slow descent into madness.

“Hey…” you muttered, breaking the silence. The bird paused, one red eye shifting toward you.

“You should’ve told your owner to leave me a clock,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “A calendar... books. Something. I’m going crazy here.”

Mephisto stilled, cocking his head slightly as if he were processing what you said. He blinked, staring at you with his unnervingly intelligent eyes. For a brief, absurd moment, you wondered if he understood you. You let out a soft, bitter laugh, turning your head away from him.

“Yeah, I figured.”

The silence settled in again, the darkness heavier now. Your body felt sluggish, your mind clouded with exhaustion. Sleep had become your only escape from the monotony, so you let it take you. You felt odd. Like something was wrong in your gut. Despite this, your eyelids fluttered shut, and soon you were drifting into a restless slumber, the weight of the world outside slipping away.

When you woke, the room was still dark—unchanged, like always. But something was different. Your eyes drifted to the door, and you blinked in surprise. A small bundle of items lay just inside the door. Food, probably. You were used to meals being passed through the metal slit in the door, arriving without ceremony.

But this wasn’t food.

You sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you stared at the items. Your pulse quickened, curiosity gnawing at you. You shuffled across the room, the clink of your chain barely registering as you crouched down in front of the bundle.

A calendar. And an old, slightly battered record. On the record a note reads:

Listen to this if you're bored. Should help.

-Sylus

You stared at the items in disbelief, your fingers hovering over the calendar as if touching it might cause it to disappear. A calendar? It was such a simple thing, but it felt monumental in this place, where time had become meaningless.

Mephisto let out a soft caw from his perch, but you ignored him, your thoughts spinning. You reached for the calendar, flipping it open to find a bookmarked page and a date circled in bright red ink.

February.

It was February now. The realization hit you like a wave, and you froze, staring at the circled date. How long had it been since you’d arrived here? Days? Weeks? It was impossible to tell. Time had slipped away from you, leaving nothing but this void of endless darkness. And now, suddenly, a date was staring you in the face, mocking your inability to track time.

Your heart thudded heavily in your chest. Sylus probably had the chef leave these things for you. A reminder. A subtle way to toy with you maybe? Reminding you that no matter what you did, he was always watching? Or was it really a nice gesture?

You glanced at Mephisto, who was once again preening his feathers, seemingly oblivious to your shock. The absurd thought crossed your mind—could this bird telepathically communicate with Sylus?

No. You shook your head, trying to push away the ridiculousness of it. There was probably a live feed in his eyes. Sylus had eyes everywhere. This was just his way of reinforcing the fact that you were never alone, no matter how much you wanted to be.

But even with that realization, a small, giddy excitement bubbled up inside you. A calendar. An actual date. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Something real. Something you could hold onto, in a place where everything felt so distant, so out of reach.

You rushed to open the calendar fully, your fingers flipping through the pages, tracing the days you had lost. How long had you been here? You couldn’t tell anymore. The days blurred together, the passage of time meaningless in this dark, suffocating world.

February. You had been here for longer than you thought. But how much longer? Weeks? The time was slipping away from you, and even now, with the calendar in your hands, you weren’t sure what it meant.

Still, you clung to it, flipping through the pages again and again, as if the answers you sought were hidden somewhere in the numbers. You sighed, settling back against the couch, holding the calendar in your lap. The small victory of having something, anything, to mark the days felt like a lifeline.

You glanced at the record. Another piece of the puzzle. Was it just an old record, or was it something more? Maybe a way for Sylus to toy with you, another way to keep you under his thumb.

For now, it didn’t matter. You had a calendar, a way to tell time. February. It was something to hold onto.

But the unsettling thought still lingered in the back of your mind—how long had it really been?

Your gaze shifted to the record player in the corner of the room, one that had been there since you arrived but had remained untouched. Shelves lined the walls, filled with records you had never bothered to look at. They felt like relics of another time, useless in the darkness of your current world. Besides, you had never known how to use one, and even if you did, the thought of music felt distant, disconnected from the stark reality of your life here.

But now, with the record in your hand, the idea of playing it stirred something in you. The room was suffocatingly quiet—always had been. Maybe music, any music, could break the monotony, even if only for a little while.

It couldn’t be that hard to figure out.

You stood slowly, the weight of the chain dragging slightly as you crossed the room toward the record player. The shelves of records loomed next to it, untouched and collecting dust, but your focus was solely on the player now. You stared at it for a moment, feeling a small flicker of uncertainty. You’d seen record players in movies, but you’d never used one. Still, how complicated could it be?

Placing the record down carefully on the turntable, you fumbled with the needle, your fingers shaky as you tried to set it up the way you remembered from vague recollections of old movies. The needle slipped a few times, scratching lightly over the surface of the record, and you winced.

“Come on…” you muttered under your breath, frustration building as you fiddled with it, adjusting the speed and placement. For a brief moment, you considered giving up entirely. What was the point of this? It wasn’t like playing some music was going to change anything.

But just as you were about to pull the needle away, the record began to spin. You held your breath as the sound of soft crackling filled the room, and then—music.

A hauntingly beautiful tune drifted through the air, slow and melodic, the soft notes of an organ echoing in the stillness. The melody was deep, resonating with something inside you that had been silent for too long. The music wrapped around you, filling the empty space, pulling at emotions you had long since buried.

You stood there, frozen, as the music enveloped the room. It was strange, hearing something so beautiful in a place that had become nothing but a prison. The contrast made the music feel almost ghostly, like it didn’t belong here. Like it was an echo from another life, another time.

For a moment, you just listened. The sound washed over you, the haunting notes tugging at something deep inside. It was almost too much. The weight of the loneliness, the fear, the uncertainty—all of it seemed to rise to the surface with each note that played. You hadn’t realized how much you had been holding in, how much you had forced yourself to push down, until now.

The haunting tune was a reminder. A reminder of everything you had lost, everything that had been stolen from you. But it was also… comforting, in a strange way. It was the first thing in this place that had touched you—really touched you.

You closed your eyes, letting the music sink in, every note heavy with meaning, every chord reverberating through you. For a moment, it was as if the darkness of the N109 Zone didn’t matter. As if the four black walls that surrounded you had disappeared, leaving you in a space where only the music existed.

The tune swelled, filling every corner of the room, its melody bittersweet, carrying an unspoken sadness that felt far too familiar. It wrapped around you like a soft blanket, drawing you into its haunting embrace, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel. To let the music stir something inside you that you had locked away for too long.

As the song played on, you sat down on the edge of the couch, the record player spinning quietly in the corner. Your fingers absently traced the label of the calendar in your lap, your mind floating somewhere between the haunting melody and the strange sense of calm it brought.

It had now been two days since you first played the record, two days of trying to distract yourself from the endless monotony of your existence in the N109 Zone. You’d made it a habit now—when you woke up, you marked the calendar with a ballpoint pen you’d found in Sylus’s desk, scratching a line through the date as if it could somehow bring you closer to freedom. Or at least closer to understanding how long you had been trapped here.

Your circadian rhythm was the only other way to tell what time it was.

The haunting melody from the record still played in your mind sometimes, but you hadn’t touched it again. There was something about the music that unsettled you. Too emotional. Too revealing. So, for now, you kept your distance.

In an attempt to stave off the boredom clawing at your mind, you finally agreed to join Luke and Kieran for a game of Kitty Cards—something they had pestered you about for days. You figured it was better than staring at the walls, waiting for nothing to happen.

At first, the game was almost enjoyable. Luke’s awkward attempts at jokes and Kieran’s quiet intensity made for an interesting dynamic, and for a brief moment, you let yourself relax. It was a small respite, playing cards with these two in the dim light of the room, their presence a distraction from the oppressive weight of your thoughts.

But then, slowly, you started to feel it.

The familiar aches. A dull, persistent cramp settling in your lower half, tugging at your body like an unwelcome reminder. You shifted in your seat, trying to ignore the discomfort, but the tiredness crept in next, sudden and heavy. The exhaustion weighed down on your eyelids, your muscles growing sluggish.

You sighed softly, knowing what was coming.

“Sorry, guys,” you said, trying to keep your voice light as you gathered the cards in front of you. “I think I’m done for now. Just… feeling off.”

Luke blinked, his mask tilting slightly as he looked at you. “You okay?”

Kieran’s eyes followed you as you rose from the table, his expression unreadable. You nodded quickly, not wanting to explain.

“Yeah, just tired. I’ll catch you both later.”

Without waiting for a response, you made your way back to the small bathroom. The cramping in your lower half was more noticeable now, pulsing with every step, but you welcomed it. At least it means something’s happening, you thought bitterly.

Once inside the bathroom, you heard the door close as the twins left, your body aching as you lowered yourself onto the toilet. You exhaled sharply, leaning forward slightly as the cramps continued to tug at your abdomen.

Then, as you glanced down at your underwear, you saw it—tiny specks of blood, dark against the fabric.

Relief washed over you, heavier than you expected. That time again? Already? You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, feeling the tension drain from your body. The blood meant your period had come. It meant everything was still functioning normally, despite the chaos of your life. And most importantly—it meant you weren’t tied to him.

You weren’t pregnant. You weren’t carrying his child.

Your stomach unclenched slightly at the thought, and you leaned back against the cool tile wall, closing your eyes. Sylus had tried to plant that seed in you, that much you knew. But your body had fought against it, and now, seeing the blood, you knew for sure—you weren’t tied to that monster in the way he had planned.

Relief mingled with anger. How dare he even try to bind you to him like that? As if forcing you to bear his child would somehow solidify the twisted power he had over you.

But now? Now you were free from that possibility. You pressed your hand against your lower abdomen, feeling the faint ache of cramps beneath your palm, and allowed yourself to feel grateful. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A small victory in a place that gave you so little.

You dressed again slowly, wincing slightly as another cramp rolled through your body. You were exhausted—your body already begging for sleep—but you felt lighter. Freer, even. The blood meant you weren���t Sylus’s pawn, not in the way he had wanted.

And for now, that was enough.

Week one without Sylus had passed, but the moments that passed blurred together. You woke up feeling more drained than the last. No matter how many hours you spent in bed, you couldn’t shake the exhaustion that clung to you. It felt like a weight pressing down on your entire body, your limbs heavy and uncooperative, as though sleep was nothing more than a brief interruption in the long strain of fatigue.

You rubbed your eyes, the dull ache of sleepless nights pounding behind them. It’s just the insomnia, you told yourself, convincing yourself that the exhaustion was simply from the tossing and turning that plagued you every night. After all, how could anyone sleep well in this place?

But deep down, you knew this tiredness was different. It wasn’t the usual grogginess from a restless night—it was deeper, more persistent. No matter how long you tried to rest, you woke up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all.

With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed, each step slow and heavy as if your body had to drag itself from the sleep it never really got. You winced, pressing a hand to your stomach as you moved. The bloating was worse after every meal now. Every time you ate, your stomach would swell uncomfortably, tight and distended, like something inside was pushing against your skin. The discomfort was constant, and by the end of the day, you could barely stand it.

It’s the damn period, you thought, grimacing as you placed your hand over your abdomen. Has to be.

Periods always made you bloat. That wasn’t new. And with all the stress you’d been under lately, it made sense that things weren’t exactly running like clockwork. Still, the bloating felt different this time—more intense, more persistent, as though it was refusing to settle. Even after hours had passed, the discomfort clung to you, making you feel like your body was swelling from the inside out.

You shuffled to the bathroom, trying to focus on anything but the nagging fatigue and the bloating that made your movements stiff and awkward. A cramp twisted briefly in your abdomen, but it was dull, barely noticeable. You sighed, pulling down your underwear to change your pad, expecting to see the usual gushing blood.

But there was hardly any.

You blinked, staring at the emptiness on the pad. Yesterday, you had bled more—definitely. The first day had felt like a normal start to your period, but now, there was barely anything.

Huh?

You sat there for a moment, staring down at the pristine white of the pad. Your fingers traced the waistband of your underwear as confusion settled in. The cramping had mostly faded, too, just a slight ache now, nothing like the intensity of what you usually felt during your period.

Where is it?

You pressed a hand to your lower abdomen, the discomfort of bloating still lingering beneath your fingers. There should have been more blood. There should have been more something. But now, all that was left was a faint stain and a gnawing sense of unease.

It’s fine, you told yourself, standing up and trying to shake the feeling off. Periods can be irregular. It’s just stress.

That had to be it. The sleepless nights, the strain of living in the N109 Zone, the constant tension pulling at you—it was all catching up to you. Your body was just reacting to the emotional and physical stress. It made sense.

But still, the small voice of doubt in the back of your mind was growing louder. You’d always had unpredictable cycles, but this? This didn’t feel right. The bloating, the exhaustion, the lack of blood—it was all off. Yet, you forced yourself to ignore it. What else could it be?

You shook your head, forcing a laugh under your breath as you stared at the nearly empty pad. It’s fine. Just stress.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, the nagging discomfort remained. And as you changed your pad and moved to wash your hands, the question gnawed at you with every breath.

Where is it?

It didn't help that with every meal from that day forward you'd get a slight pang of sickness in your belly. Maybe the chefs weren't that great of cooks after all.

But as time passed, the nausea only become more unbearable. It was no longer just an inconvenience that popped up here and there—it was constant. It churned in your stomach from the moment you woke up, creeping up before you even thought about food, making the thought of eating feel like a battle. Each meal now brought a wave of queasiness that lingered long after you forced yourself to swallow a few bites. The food you once ate out of necessity now felt impossible to keep down.

It wasn’t just the nausea, either. The small comforts you’d relied on—like lying on your chest when you finally collapsed into bed—were gone, too. Your breasts had grown tender, so sensitive that even the thought of pressing them against the mattress made you wince. Rolling over had become a challenge, and any attempt to settle into your normal sleeping position left you frustrated and sore.

You sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly pulling on a loose shirt, hoping the fabric wouldn’t irritate your nipples any further. Every little thing seemed to be falling apart inside you. Between the nausea, the tenderness, and the bloating that hadn’t eased up, your body felt like it was turning against you.

It was the same with everything else, too. Even simple things—like playing another round of Kitty Cards with Luke and Kieran—had started to feel overwhelming. You had hoped the game might distract you from the constant discomfort, but it wasn’t working. Every time you sat down to play, your mind would drift, thoughts swirling around Sylus, his absence, and the creeping uncertainty that gnawed at you.

The twins were patient, at least. They sat across from you, dealing the cards and chatting casually, oblivious to the storm brewing in your mind. But today, the pressure felt different. Everything felt different.

You stared at your cards, barely processing the game as it unfolded in front of you. Your head was spinning, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. You had lost again—no surprise there. Normally, you’d shrug it off, crack a sarcastic joke about how the twins were impossible to beat. But this time, you felt something break inside you, something small but undeniable.

Before you could stop it, the tears welled up in your eyes.

“Damn it,” you muttered, your voice trembling. You quickly wiped at your eyes, trying to will the tears away, but it was too late. They fell fast and hard, streaming down your cheeks before you could control them.

Luke and Kieran exchanged a panicked glance at each other through their masks, their playful demeanor evaporating as they rushed to your side.

“Whoa, hey, it’s just a game!” Luke said, his voice soft and cautious as he reached out, clearly unsure how to handle your sudden outburst. “It’s not a big deal, we can play another round, yeah?”

Kieran didn’t say anything at first, just shifted closer, his presence more of a quiet comfort than anything. He placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his voice calm but concerned. “You okay?”

You shook your head quickly, choking back a sob as you tried to speak. “I’m fine. I’m fine, really. It’s just… I don’t know.” The words felt flimsy, hollow, even as you said them. You didn’t know what was happening—why the sudden flood of emotions, why you felt so completely out of control. It wasn’t like you.

“It’s just everything,” you whispered, more to yourself than to them.

The twins stayed close, Luke rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly while Kieran quietly handed you a tissue. You wiped your face, embarrassed by the sudden outburst. This wasn’t you. You weren’t the kind of person who broke down over losing a card game, and yet here you were, crying in front of two people who probably didn’t know what to do with you.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “I don’t know why… it’s just been—everything’s been so off lately.”

The twins exchanged another glance, but they didn’t push you. Instead, they nodded, offering small smiles of reassurance.

“We get it,” Luke said softly. “It’s a lot. You don’t have to explain.”

But as you sat there, sniffling and trying to regain control, the spinning in your head worsened. Your mind whirled with a thousand thoughts, none of them settling. What was happening to you? The nausea, the fatigue, the sensitivity, the tears. It didn’t make sense. You had blamed it all on stress and your period, but now the doubts were creeping in again.

And with those doubts came the nagging thought you’d been avoiding for days now: When is Sylus coming back?

The last time you’d seen him, he had left without giving you any real answers. His cold, detached demeanor had sent chills down your spine, and the memory of his final words replayed in your mind over and over again, like a taunt you couldn’t escape.

"This may be the last time we talk, kitten."

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the words away, but they echoed louder than ever. Was he dead? Had something happened to him? No… that wasn’t possible. Sylus wasn’t the kind of man who went down easily. He was always ten steps ahead, always in control. But then why did his words haunt you like a final goodbye?

Your chest tightened, your stomach churning as the weight of it all pressed down on you. You needed answers, but you had none. And without Sylus here—without knowing if he was ever coming back—there was nothing to do but sit with the spinning confusion, the unease, and the gnawing fear that something was very, very wrong.

Days pass in a blur and you were getting tired of feeling god awful. And thirsty? You couldn't stop drinking.

You kept finding yourself asking Mephisto, of all things, if he could somehow pass a note to the chef for more drinks. Water, juice, anything you could get your hands on. The constant thirst gnawed at you, as relentless as the rest of the changes you couldn’t understand. The more your body demanded, the more frustrated you became.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” you muttered under your breath, staring into the mirror after pushing away yet another meal you couldn't finish. Your reflection stared back at you, tired and drawn, with dark circles under your eyes that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago. Your body felt foreign—heavy, sluggish, like something you couldn’t control anymore. You weren’t even sure what was happening to you, but you hated it. You hated how powerless you felt inside your own skin.

It was as if your body was betraying you in slow, painful ways. And it was getting harder and harder to hold yourself together.

You stepped back from the mirror, and the weight of it all—everything you had been pushing down—suddenly crashed over you. A sob escaped your throat, and before you could stop it, you were breaking down. Again. You slid to the floor, pressing your hands to your face, trying to stifle the tears, but they came faster than you could handle. The frustration, the exhaustion, the endless confusion—it all bubbled over.

Your hands were shaking as you cried, your body feeling too weak to even hold yourself upright. You were falling apart, piece by piece, and there was nothing left to keep the walls up.

After what felt like an eternity of sitting there on the floor, tears streaming down your face, you glanced over at the calendar. Through tear-stained eyes, you caught a glimpse of the circled date—the day Sylus was supposed to come back.

Your heart sank, a hollow pit forming in your chest as the realization hit you like a blow.

Three days.

Three days had already passed since he was supposed to be back.

Your breath caught in your throat as the thought consumed you. Shit. He’s dead. That’s the only explanation that made sense. Sylus was dead, and now you were trapped here, in this miserable, suffocating prison, forever.

And what made it worse—what twisted the knife in deeper—was that you cared.

You shouldn’t. You knew that. Sylus had kidnapped you, manipulated you, left a scar on your arm and worse, scars in your mind. He had controlled you, twisted your life into something unrecognizable. And here you were, crying—actually crying—because he wasn’t coming back?

Fuck him, you thought, angrily wiping your tears away. Why do you even care?

But even as you tried to convince yourself, the tears kept falling. Why did you care? What was wrong with you? Why did the thought of Sylus being dead, of him never walking back through that door, tear you apart in ways you couldn’t explain?

Your head spun, the weight of your emotions crashing over you, dragging you under. You hated him. You hated everything he’d done to you. He’d stolen you from your life, cut into your skin, ripped away your freedom. You should be celebrating the thought of him being gone. You should want him to be dead.

But you didn’t.

You leaned your head against the wall, pressing your hands to your chest, trying to quiet the storm inside of you. The nausea was back again, swirling in your stomach, making it harder to breathe. Your body felt like it wasn’t yours anymore, like you had lost control in more ways than one.

Tears dripped down your cheeks as you shook your head, whispering to yourself. “What is wrong with me?”

There was no answer, only the suffocating silence of the N109 Zone, pressing in on you from all sides. And in that silence, one thought kept repeating itself, over and over again, haunting you with every breath:

"This may be the last time we talk, kitten."

“FUCK YOU!” The words ripped from your throat before you even realized it, raw and filled with a fury you didn’t know you still had in you.

You surged to your feet, your vision blurred with tears and rage as you grabbed the calendar from its place on the wall. The innocent object, the one thing that had grounded you to the passing of time, now felt like a mockery. Every marked date, every circled day—it was all a lie. He wasn’t coming back.

Without thinking, you hurled the calendar across the room with all the strength you could muster. It hit the opposite wall with a dull thud before falling to the floor, pages crumpling as it landed. The sound echoed in the room, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the roar inside your head.

You stood there, chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears. The room felt too small, too suffocating, the darkness pressing in on you from every side. You wanted to scream again, to throw everything in the room, to tear it all apart until there was nothing left to remind you of him, of this place, of the horrible truth you couldn’t escape.

Sylus. His name was a bitter taste in your mouth. He had controlled you, twisted your life into this nightmare, and now he had the audacity to leave you here—alone. The anger burned in your chest, mixing with the sadness, the confusion, the overwhelming feeling of being lost.

You wanted to hate him. You did hate him. But in that same breath, the thought of him being gone forever, of him never walking through that door again, left you hollow. Why?

You felt an intense pain in your chest. In your heart. Physical, longing, brimming underneath all the hate when you thought of Sylus.

Tears streamed down your face as you stood there, fists clenched at your sides, staring at the crumpled calendar on the floor. The broken mess of it mirrored the way you felt inside—shattered, with no way to piece it back together.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. It wasn’t just for Sylus anymore. It was for everything. For the N109 Zone, for your broken body, for the endless spiral of confusion and fear that had taken over your life. You didn’t know who to scream at anymore, who to blame, because everything felt like it was crumbling.

You wiped your tear-streaked face with the back of your hand, your breath shaky. The calendar sat motionless on the floor, a reminder of time slipping away, of promises not kept. And with it, a reminder of the haunting words Sylus had left you with, the ones that echoed in the hollow space inside your chest.

"This may be the last time we talk, kitten."

You sobbed, eyes turning toward the record player. You had been avoiding it. But now you longed for its song.

You sobbed, knees giving out as you slid to the floor, your body trembling with the weight of everything crashing down at once. The room spun around you, the tears blurring your vision, and for a moment, all you could do was sit there, letting the raw emotion pour out of you, your chest heaving with every breath.

Through the tears, your eyes drifted across the room, falling on the record player sitting in the corner, covered in a thin layer of dust. It had been sitting there for days, untouched, and you had purposefully ignored it, trying to avoid the haunting melody that had stirred too much inside you the first time. You’d been afraid of it—afraid of what the music had made you feel. Too much.

But now, as you sat there in the suffocating silence, the world collapsing around you, you longed for it. You longed for the song.

There was something in that music, something that had connected with you in a way nothing else here had. The haunting melody had pierced through the walls you’d built, allowing you to feel, really feel, in a place where emotions were a dangerous luxury. And now, in the midst of your grief and anger, you craved that connection again, that strange, bittersweet comfort.

Wiping at your tear-streaked face, you slowly pushed yourself up, your legs shaky beneath you as you staggered toward the record player. You hesitated for a moment, standing before it, your fingers hovering over the record that sat waiting, as if it had known you would come back.

Your hand trembled as you placed the needle on the record, the familiar crackling sound filling the room as it began to spin. For a moment, there was nothing but static, a brief, fragile pause before the music began.

And then, the first notes hit.

That hauntingly beautiful melody. It drifted through the room, filling the empty space with its ghostly echo. The sound wrapped around you, soft and delicate, but heavy with meaning, with emotion. The organs slow, mournful tune carried through the air, each note pulling at your heart, drawing out the feelings you had tried to bury.

You sank to the floor again, leaning against the wall, your head resting back as you let the music envelop you. The tears didn’t stop, but the sobs quieted, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. The melody tugged at your soul, a reminder of everything you had lost, everything that had been taken from you.

But in that sadness, there was a strange comfort. The music understood. It mirrored your pain, your frustration, your confusion. Every note felt like it was speaking directly to you, like the song itself was mourning with you.

The organ swelled, and your chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over as the emotions surged again. But you didn’t fight it this time. You let the music carry you, let it take you wherever it wanted to go. There was no point in resisting anymore. You were tired of fighting.

As the melody continued, you closed your eyes, the sound pulling you deeper into its embrace. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to truly feel everything. The sadness, the anger, the fear—it all poured out of you, spilling into the notes of the song.

Sylus’s absence still loomed over you, his words still echoed in your mind, but for now, the music dulled the edges of that pain. It was a small reprieve, a brief moment where the chaos of your mind quieted.

And even though the haunting melody was filled with sorrow, in this moment, it was exactly what you needed.

Sylus stepped into the room quietly, the soft click of the door unlocking barely audible over the faint hum of the record player. He exhaled slowly, exhaustion weighing heavy on him from days of endless travel, but as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, they landed on you, and the fatigue seemed to fade into the background.

There you were, curled up on the floor, fast asleep, your chest rising and falling in steady, peaceful breaths. The haunting melody from the record player filled the air, casting a strange, melancholic atmosphere over the room. Sylus’s gaze flickered to the spinning record and, with a small smirk, he turned the player off, cutting the music short. It pleased him to see you had actually played it.

For a moment, he simply stood there, watching you sleep. There was something oddly vulnerable about the way you lay there, your body relaxed in sleep, your face free of the tension that so often creased it when you were awake. His eyes traced the faint tear tracks on your cheeks, the puffiness around your eyes, the clear evidence that you had been crying.

You’ve been sobbing, he realized, his smirk fading as he studied you more closely. Dried tears clung to your skin, and your face looked stressed and worn, as if you’d been fighting a losing battle with your emotions for far too long. He could see it now—the exhaustion, the way your body seemed to have given up.

His gaze softened, lingering on you for a moment longer. You stirred slightly in your sleep, your eyelids fluttering as if caught in some dream. Your chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, and for the briefest moment, he allowed himself to simply observe the small details—the way your breath hitched every now and then, the way your lips parted slightly, the faint twitch of your fingers.

It was strange, this feeling. Sylus had seen you broken before, had seen the moments when you were at your most vulnerable, but watching you like this—so peaceful, yet so fragile—something else stirred in him. A flicker of something softer, something he quickly brushed away.

He stepped closer, kneeling beside you as he reached out to gently shake your shoulder. “Wake up, honey” he murmured softly.

Your eyes flew open, wide and startled at first, darting around the room in confusion before finally settling on him. For a split second, something flashed in your gaze—relief? But it was quickly replaced by something else. Worry? Concern?

Before he could say anything, you grimaced, your face twisting in discomfort, and then you were dry heaving. Instinctively, Sylus moved quickly, slipping his arms under you to help guide you toward the bathroom. The sudden movement caught you off guard, but he held you steady, his grip firm but not rough.

“Easy,” he said, his voice low as he helped you to the bathroom. You could barely focus, your body convulsing with the effort of dry heaving, but Sylus kept you upright, guiding you with surprising gentleness.

Once inside, you collapsed near the toilet, and he crouched beside you, watching as your body struggled against the nausea. His hand rested lightly on your back, a quiet, stabilizing presence as you fought to regain control.

One dry heave. Your body convulsed, a sharp, painful spasm that left you gasping for breath. Sylus's grip tightened slightly, his hand steady on your back as he helped guide you to the edge of the toilet. The nausea had been building for days, and now it was finally pushing its way out, relentless and overwhelming.

Then came another heave, your stomach twisting violently, your muscles contracting as if your body was trying to wring itself dry. Your vision blurred, and the room spun as you tried to fight it, but it was no use.

The final heave hit hard, and this time, you couldn’t hold it back. The contents of your stomach surged up, and you vomited into the toilet, your whole body trembling from the effort. The acrid taste burned in your throat as you retched, your eyes squeezing shut as tears leaked from the corners.

Sylus remained silent, his hand still resting on your back, his presence a quiet anchor in the chaos of the moment. He didn’t speak, didn’t react—just stayed there, watching as you emptied yourself, each convulsion wracking your already exhausted body.

When the retching finally subsided, your shoulders sagged, and you leaned against the toilet, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The nausea still lingered, but the worst had passed, leaving you feeling weak, drained, and raw. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, still shaking, your entire body feeling like it might collapse at any moment.

Sylus knelt beside you, his gaze fixed on you, studying your every movement. There was no mocking smirk this time, no cruel amusement. Just a quiet, almost clinical focus as he watched you recover. His eyes flickered over your tear-streaked face, the sweat glistening on your skin, and the unmistakable exhaustion that had settled into every fiber of your being.

"Better?" he asked quietly, his voice softer than you expected.

You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if that was the truth. The nausea had faded, but your head was spinning, and your body felt foreign, like it didn’t belong to you anymore. You slumped back, resting against the cool tile floor, trying to steady your breath as the overwhelming fatigue took over.

“Were you so excited to see me that you threw up?” Sylus’s voice slipped out, laced with dark amusement as he eyed you laid on the bathroom floor. The corners of his lips tugged into a smirk as he watched your exhausted figure, trembling from the aftermath of your retching. The sight of you, so vulnerable yet still so defiant, stirred something in him. It was quite adorable.

Your head snapped up, eyes red and watery, and shot him a glare that would’ve been more effective if you weren’t barely holding yourself together. That was what he liked about you, though—you still had fire, even when everything else was crumbling.

“I hate you,” you muttered, barely audible, your voice weak and strained.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in the quiet room. Of course you did. You’d spat those words at him more times than he could count, but they never carried the weight you thought they did. “I'm hurt, kitten,” he said, letting the pet name slip out with just enough bite to remind you of your place.

He shifted, straightening up slightly but still crouched beside you, watching the way your body slumped against the cool tile. You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand again, trying to recover, but he could see how drained you were. Your limbs looked heavy, like they’d given up on you, and the flush of your cheeks told him you were still fighting that lingering nausea.

But it wasn’t just the exhaustion that interested him—it was the way you looked up at him, the fire still burning behind your eyes despite the tears and the clear discomfort. Even now, as broken as you were, you fought. That was what intrigued him, what kept him coming back to you.

He couldn’t help but chuckle again, this time quieter, more to himself. The sight of you like this, caught between rage and weakness, pulled at something in him. You didn’t want him here, and yet, your body still leaned into his support, still let him guide you when you needed it most. Whether you hated him or not didn’t matter. You still needed him.

He watched you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning your face, the way your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. The tear tracks were still fresh on your cheeks, and he could see that you’d been crying long before he’d arrived.

The silence stretched between you, and Sylus felt it settle—heavy, weighted with something more than just your physical exhaustion. He could feel it in the way you looked at him, as though you were grappling with something you didn’t want to admit. And then there was that brief flicker in your eyes, something that looked almost like relief before it shifted to concern.

It intrigued him. What were you so worried about?

He could see your body still trembling, and before you could react, your face twisted again, and you dry heaved once more. His amusement faded as his hands instinctively moved to help you, his grip firm but not rough, guiding you back toward the toilet just in time as you retched and gagged again.

“Don't fight it,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something quieter. For once, the teasing tone was gone. You were still shaking, still fighting the nausea, and he kept his hand on your back, steadying you as you vomited again, your whole body convulsing with the effort.

He knelt beside you, watching the way your frame trembled, the way your body seemed to be betraying you. His eyes narrowed slightly. Something was different—off. This wasn’t just exhaustion or sickness. He’d seen you in pain before, seen you in worse states, but this… this felt heavier.

He kept his hand on your back, waiting until your body stopped shaking, until you slumped again, too weak to do anything but rest against the cold tile.

"You okay?" he asked, keeping his voice low, though he doubted you had the energy to do much more than nod.

And sure enough, you gave a weak nod, not even trying to speak. He watched as your chest rose and fell, your breath coming in shallow gasps. The fight hadn’t left your eyes, but the exhaustion had taken over now, and he could see it in the way you struggled to keep yourself upright.

Sylus stared at you for a moment longer, something cold and calculating behind his eyes. You were breaking, yes, but not in the way he had expected. Something else was happening—something deeper, beyond the physical symptoms. He could feel it, a shift in the air between you.

Sylus remained there for a moment longer, his eyes tracing over your trembling form. You looked so small, so fragile in this moment, slumped against the cold tile with tear-streaked cheeks and watery eyes. The sight of you like this stirred something inside him—a mix of satisfaction and curiosity, though he wasn’t entirely sure which feeling dominated. He could see how much this had taken a toll on you, how every day without answers had chipped away at your resolve. But this? This was different. This was the moment he had been waiting for—the moment where the walls finally came down.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, keeping his tone even and composed as he turned away, heading toward the bathroom drawer. He could feel your eyes on him, glaring into his back with what little strength you had left. You were trying to hold onto that defiance, trying to summon some kind of fight, but he knew better. You were unraveling, and the truth of what he was about to show you would tear down whatever was left.

He rifled through the drawer, his movements slow and methodical, savoring the quiet tension building in the room. His fingers brushed past a few irrelevant items before closing around the small box. It felt almost anticlimactic, the weight of it so light in his hand, yet what it represented was monumental. He straightened and turned back toward you, holding the box just high enough for you to see.

Your reaction was immediate—your mouth opened in shock, and your eyes widened in horror as realization dawned. There it is, he thought, a small smirk tugging at his lips. He watched the shift in your expression with a quiet, controlled satisfaction. It was like watching a puzzle piece snap into place, watching you connect the dots and realize just how deep in this you really were.

“No…” you whispered, your voice cracking, barely more than a breath. The desperation clung to your words, and for a fleeting moment, Sylus felt something akin to pity stir in his chest. But he quickly brushed it aside. This is how it has to be. He knew it. You were spiraling, trying to cling to the lie that everything was normal, that your body hadn’t betrayed you in the way you feared most.

“No, I’m not pregnant,” you whimpered, shaking your head as tears started to spill down your cheeks. “I’m just sick…I'm just sick...”

Why lie to yourself?, he thought, though there was no cruelty in those words. He didn’t enjoy seeing you like this—no, not quite. But there was something about your vulnerability, something about watching you come to terms with this new reality, that intrigued him. You were always so strong, so determined to fight him at every turn, and now, with this one tiny box in his hand, he had you crumbling.

Tears poured from your eyes now, and your voice wavered as you kept trying to convince yourself, to convince him, that this wasn’t real. That you were just sick, that this was something else, something manageable. He could see the panic rising in you, the way your hands trembled, the way your breath hitched between sobs.

But Sylus just watched, his eyes soft, yet calculating. He wasn’t surprised by your reaction—he’d anticipated it, even counted on it. You weren’t ready to accept the truth yet. That’s why he was here. To guide you into it. To show you that, whether you wanted it or not, you were his in ways you hadn’t even realized.

He stepped toward you, his movements slow, deliberate. Kneeling back down, he reached out and wiped the tears from your face, his touch unnervingly tender. The way he was looking at you displayed the same tenderness but also something else. Control, This was control—calm, steady control. He had been waiting for this moment for weeks, watching the signs, knowing where this was all leading.

“Only one way to find out, honey,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. Like he was comforting a child. He could feel your fear, could see the way you were choking on the sobs that kept spilling from you. But there was no rush. He had all the time in the world.

He watched the panic bloom in your eyes, the way the tears kept coming, your body shaking with the effort of holding back the reality you didn’t want to face. It fascinated him—the sheer desperation in your every movement. The fear of being tied to him in a way you couldn’t escape, in a way that would bind you together forever.

She’s terrified, he thought, his thumb brushing away more of your tears. But beneath that terror, there was something else—a kind of inevitability. You already knew. Deep down, you must have known. He could see it now, in the way your sobs became more frantic, the way your body shook as the weight of the truth crashed over you. You weren’t just crying from fear anymore. You were crying because this was real.

The satisfaction he felt wasn’t born of cruelty. It was born of the quiet control he had over you now, a control that went beyond the physical, beyond the chain that kept you tethered here. This was a different kind of control—one that reached into your mind, your soul. And it was deeper than anything he had ever seen in you before.

As you burst into sobs, your whole body trembling with the force of your breakdown, Sylus stayed right there, crouched beside you, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. The box sat between you like a looming reminder of what was coming, and he knew there was no turning back from this.

Watching you crumble like this, completely undone by something as small as a pregnancy test, brought a strange sense of finality to the moment. You were his now. Not in the way you had been before—this was something more permanent, more inescapable.

All that was left was to confirm it. Show you its real.

And as your sobs wracked your body, Sylus watched with soft, patient eyes, knowing that no matter how much you cried, no matter how much you resisted, there was only one way out.

The truth.

[lowkeyrobin]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write a James Hook x Reader. She’s Hans’ daughter but her relationship with him is complicated. Since he couldn’t become king he wants the reader to marry a prince so she can be a queen in the future. She tells him no prince would ever fall for her bc she’s a VK to get him to stop pressuring her. But the truth is she doesn’t even want to marry a prince bc she likes James.

Although she’s Hans’ daughter she’s friends with Bridget and Ella bc she’s nothing like her father personality wise and doesn’t want to be ever. Which is why James became intrigued with her and flirts. She’s always standing up for Bridget.

Anyway at the end Hans somehow finds out what’s going on between reader and James. Later at night he confronts the reader about it stating that she will marry a prince. But she finally stands up for herself. You can decide what he says but then he leaves and she breaks down but James comforts her bc he heard everything. You can decide the rest.

Sorry this is long thank you in advance!

oooo okay okay I can try! ; just so yk I only do gn / they/them readers but I usually keep gender pretty ambiguous lol ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also this gives pink pony club and I need someone to agree cause I feel crazy for thinking it ??? ; update on that I listened to ppc and it's now heavily influenced on that last part

JAMES HOOK ; complicated

summary ; a vk who acts like an ak catches his attention, fascinating him

warnings ; language, use of gorgeous but in a gn way who cares about societal norms

word count ; 1.5k

masterlist

"That boy, uh... Prince Charming, at your school, why not marry him?"

"Oh my fucking Christ, Dad" You groan. "One, I'm a VK, two, he doesn't like me, nor do I like him, three, stop with this conversation"

"What about that Snow White girl?"

You grumble, stomping away to your room to get away from your self projecting father. Every day for the past God-knows-how-long he'd keep bringing up you marrying into a royal family. Just because he lost a girl by being a douchebag apparently meant he had to project his insecurities on you.

You weren't like him at all, nor did you ever want to be. He was a complete asshat from what he's told you, thinking he was always in the right. You were a VK gone soft, or a VK with morals and a good heart, whatever floats your boat.

Your best friends Bridget and Ella were AK's who'd welcomed you into the good side with open arms. They were quiet and sort of shy, too scared to stand up for themselves. But that's why they had you, because being born as a villain kid meant you could be mean, you could use your voice to get what you wanted, or at least try.

"Go away, Hook. Leave her alone." you call, walking up on James and Maleficent picking on Bridget and her bright pink flower themed cake.

"Or what?" He questions, leaning away from Bridget, turning to you as you stand in front of her. "Gonna walk the plank for me?"

You roll your eyes. "Are you looking for a fight? What do you guys get out of doing this?"

He shrugs deviously. "Entertainment, darling."

"Go away," you order, "Unless you really wanna put your Captain title at risk." You turn around, pulling Bridget away from the duo.

"Confident, are you?" He laughs. "Wait and see, gorgeous," he turns around, pulling his partner along.

Maleficent hisses, watching as you and Bridget walk away.

"What's with you and that fake VK?" she asks him.

James shrugs.

"Well, hello again, darling"

"Don't you ever go away?"

"You've got a mouth for an Auradon Kid, don't you?" He chuckles. "Wait... you're not an Auradon Kid. You're a VK."

You roll your eyes. "Just cause I was conceived by a villain doesn't mean I am a villain"

He sighs. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

You turn around, seeing him still standing over you. Can't a person get five minutes alone in the library?

"What do you want?"

He shrugs. "Wanted to ask why you've joined the good side. You're always defending those girls. It's weird"

"How is having morals weird?" you ask. "Genuinley. Sit"

He glances around with furrowed brows before joining you, taking a seat beside you. He sits sideways to face you, resting his hooked hand on the table.

"What makes you think harassing people is fun?"

He shrugs. "It's funny, entertaining."

"Sadly, I can't control your actions." you speak with a light sigh, turning back to your book.

"Why do you defend them?" He asks rather swiftly.

"Because they're my friends?" you reply.

He tilts his head. "You're fascinating"

You groan. "I'm a normal, not evil person"

"And I'm not?"

"No, you're a bitch"

"Hello, love"

"Piss off"

"You should be nicer to me. After all..."

"Close your damn mouth. There is nothing going on between us"

Bridget and Ella, wide-eyed, turn to you.

You exhale through your nose, slowly closing your eyes to find yourself and to not freak out. You look at them, a kind smile on your face.

"There is nothing going on between us" you repeat.

"I'd beg to differ..." James mumbles while Morgie giggles.

You turn to the girls. "Go to class, I'll be there in a minute"

They nod, walking to the classroom just down the hall.

You cross your arms, waiting for James to speak. Morgie stands beside him before he's shoo'd away, making the conversation private.

James smiles, pulling a sandwich bag out of his coat. Inside rests three slightly crumbled cookies that he'd made just for you. He holds them out to you, a cautious and slightly concerned look on his face.

"Sorry your dad's been... y'know"

You shrug, accepting the sweet treats. "It's fine, just pisses me off. Thank you, though"

"Anytime, darling"

"You need to stop with that. Someone's gonna catch on that there is actually something going on between us"

"Eh, I'm alright with that"

"See you later, pirate boy"

"Hook you later, love"

You press a chaste kiss to his lips before running up the front steps of your house, opening the door with a small smile on your lips. You close the door behind you, watching through the window as your little love interest walks away.

You walk into the living room, saying hello to your father, backpack slung over your shoulder. "I'm home"

"How was your day?" He asks, flipping the TV to another channel.

Your ears painfully vibrate due to the sound of your father sharpening a knife in his lap. God, he couldn't pick a better time?

"Fine," you wince. "I'll be in my room. I have homework"

You quickly walk away before he can speak anymore, knowing leftover dinner was in the fridge for you to access. Having homework wasn't a lie, but you were definitely lying about doing it.

As darkness fell, and after you'd dropped multiple hours cleaning your room, you opened up your window, allowing the fresh, cool air into the stuffy warm room. You lean against the window sill, awaiting your dumb love, the breeze brushing against your face.

You knew this was wrong, all of it. You'd been having wicked dreams of leaving Auradon, hearing new, distant lands calling your name. You'd never make your father proud. He'll see his baby and scream, 'God, what have you done?' as you wave goodbye on a ship with James, dressed to explore the world.

You had dreams, he had expectations.

You imagined a wide open sea, James Hook at your side, the salty air against your face. It was a daydream, one that could be accomplished. You imagine a whole world to explore, all the things you'd never seen, you'd be able to experience. From waterfalls to exotic animals, you wanted to see it all, you wanted to see all the sunsets and cultural differences. You wanted it all.

"Hey!"

"Hi!"

You watch as Hook climbs up the tree in your front yard, then use your little zipline connected to the roof to enter your room through the window. You grab his hand, pulling him into the refreshed bedroom you called home.

He rests his hands around your waist, his signature smirky-smile upon his face. "I missed you oh-so dearly"

You scoff. "It's been like, five hours"

He pulls you closer, smashing your lips together like this was some romantic romance movie where the two main characters had to leave each other in the end. He shoves you to the bed, allowing you to sit on the mattress as he stands over you, his hook lightly tracing your jawline, his hand resting on the nape of your neck.

Your door flings open, the two of you jumping in fear, eyes glued to the room's entrance. James quickly scrambles out the window, leaving you alone to deal with your father.

"Are you kidding me, Y/n?! First you're kissing a boy outside, then you're sneaking him into my house! For the last time, you'll be marrying into royalty, not sneaking around with some pirate wannabe!" Your father shouts. "I'll be boarding up your window from now on and I'll be taking this damn door away too."

"Just because you have a soft ego and are a narcissistic piece of shit doesn't mean you can force your insecurities on to me!" You yell. "My love life has nothing to do with you at all. I'm not going to be some teenage newlywed so you can ruin a whole kingdom's worth of lives through me. I am not you and I will never be you!"

He's too stunned to speak, surprised that you've talked back, the words leaving your lips like you had them ready to use. You stare into his soul, heavily breathing, fists clenched as you stand in front of him.

You rush to the window as he leaves, slamming the door behind him, not sure how to approach the situation. You slide out the open window, holding back tears.

James quickly wraps you in a hug, allowing you to crumble in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" He whispers, holding onto you tightly.

"It's fine" You shake your head with a grumble. "Fuck"

His hand rubs your shoulder.

You sit in silence with him for a few minutes, carefully listening as your father stomps around the house.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love. Do you need somewhere else to stay?-"

"I'm fine" You reply. "I'll be fine"

He's silent for a moment. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you here"

"He won't hurt me. He's a wimp with an ego." You shrug.

He nods. "Yeah, that's true"

You quickly look up at him, a random thought in your brain. "Have you ever seen a flamingo before? In real life?"

"I've conquered the seven seas, babe. Of course I have"

"Cool"

[thebunnybabyblog]

either Severus or y/n having a bad day so the other smothers then with kisses 😩

I am so so so sorry this is so late. I kind of went a tiny bit manic and my life went a lil nuts 😋✨💕 oopsie am I right fellas lol anyway if there are mistakes plz ignore I re read it like 5 times but I always forget something lol

Summery: you have very bad day and Sev saves ya from lit crying in the rain. What a good man Sev 💕

Paring: reader and Severus Snape

Word count: 2017

Type: fluff

Your keys fumbled to the ground as they slipped from your wet hands and landed on the welcome mat below. The storm that had appeared out of nowhere as you walked home from the station had really been the icing on the terrible cake that was today. Every moment of the day had something about it that added to the meltdown meter overflowing in your head.

The morning was the start of your troubles as you awoke in a wild panic. Sometime during the early morning hours you woke to still see time on the clock and you accidentally turned off the alarm in your dazed state. When you awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and the sun shining you actually felt pretty good but as your eyes looked over to the clock the blood ran from your face.

You ran through the house trying to speed run your morning routine but still managed to make it to work 30 minutes late. Huffing and puffing from the run from the station, you burst through the door crashing into a pile of boxes filled with already organized documents that needed to be sent out. You fell to the ground alongside a frenzy of flying papers. Which resulted in an unpleasant reprimand by your boss loud enough for others to hear.

By the time lunch rolled around, you realized in your panic, you had forgotten to grab your already packed lunch you had put together special the night before. With your last few dollars in your bag you made your way to the corner deli and bought yourself a sandwich.

You chose to eat back to your desk, to make up for the lost time in the morning. Never great at multitasking, you began to take your first bite but distracted by your work your sandwich missed your mouth and made its home on your white blouse below. You just looked down in disbelief. “Why, literally just why.” You thought to yourself. As if you weren’t already embarrassed enough now you had to walk around looking like you were just attacked.

Your day continued to be a shit show as everyone seemed like their lives were also turning to shit because everyone was just so on edge. There were multiple fires to put out and a stick up everyone’s ass. Especially the interns that were tasked with putting back the papers you had graciously destroyed this morning. You could feel their eyes on you most of the day as they were pretty pissed but to be honest you couldn’t blame them. You watched the time slowly tick by as if it was actually purgatory and you’d be stuck in this office for the rest of eternity.

The hum of the lights were making your head ache. The smell of spilled food on the blouse was making you nauseous. The way everyone’s noises were rubbing you the wrong way, every click of a pen, every cough in the distance, every bump to your work space. You were on the verge of a total meltdown. Your leg began to bounce and your fingers tapped hard against your desk. Sweat began to roll down your forehead as it seemed to get hotter and hotter by the second.

You quickly arose from your seat and made your way to the bathroom for a moment of peace. You peaked your head into the restroom and to your amazement you were met with an empty room. Slipping into a stall you sat down, even though you didn’t l have to go, you just needed to step away. The cool air flowed around the room and you took a deep breath to ground yourself.

You reached for your phone and stared down at the screen. Scrolling through your contacts and hovered over Severus' name. Unsure if you should text him, not wanting to bother him with your trivial little problems, you quickly click your phone shut and slip it back into your pocket, or so you thought. You stand again and you must have only half shoved it down because the next thing you know you are fishing your now soaked phone from the toilet below.

You just couldn’t believe your luck today. You were half tempted to believe that someone had put a hex out against you. You just couldn’t catch a break and when the downpour began out of nowhere on your way home you just wanted to lay down in the middle of the street and let Jesus take the wheel of someone's car and take you out of your misery.

The keys falling from your hands was really the last straw though. You were so close to finally escaping the hell that was your day and you just had to endure it that little second longer. One final kick to the ribs. The tears just started flowing and with big loud sobs you were sitting there on your steps in the pouring rain crying as if no one who passed by couldn’t see you.

You were interrupted when the front door opened and you saw Severus’ wide eyed looking down at you in utter confusion. Before he could even ask you what happened you said “I… everything has just gone wrong! I was late! Lunch!” You gesture down to the large stains on your chest as Severus quickly darts his eyes down and back up to you. “My phone?!? This fucking tsunami!! And the keys! The fucking keys!!” You cry out, head now in your hands, still sprawled out on the ground.

Without words Severus swoops you up off the steps and brings you inside and up the stairs to the bathroom. Your muffled cries vibrated into his chest. This wasn’t the first time Severus had seen you have a bit of a meltdown. He wasn’t shy of having his own meltdown here and there but yours were definitely more of emotional meltdowns.

When your relationship first got off the ground and the first time the world got a little overwhelming he wasn’t quite sure what to do but he’s a smart man. He observed your actions and what things could trigger big emotions and he tried his best to counteract those stressors but life wasn’t something you can control.

When he saw you soaking wet crying on the porch he knew it was time for operation atomic damage control. When things were at its peak and there was no simple pat on the back “everything will be ok” pep talk that would fix this. He made his way with you to the bathroom and sat you down on the counter for a moment.

He opened up the curtain and began to fill the bathtub. Not forgetting to add a few pumps of your favorite bubble bath scent. He left the room and came back with a potion of silverish blue liquid. Making his way back to you he places his large palm on one side of your face and peppered your forehead in soft kisses. “I’m sorry your day was sour, my love. I think this should help relieve some stress” He whispers softly down to you.

You still have tears falling but with the kisses you are now quiet in his hands trying to savor his warm touch. You let him place the vial to your lips not even questioning what the liquid even was. “Do you need some alone time? I want to join you but if you need space I understand.” He asks softly in between kisses. Severus is the only person who you want around during these moments of sadness.

He was the strong quiet type through and through. He made you feel safe and loved even if you hadn’t even spoken. Just his presence was enough. You shook your head yes between his palms and he smiled down to you. using his thumbs he gently wiped the remaining tears from your eyes and kissed your head once more before turning his attention back to the bath.

The air was thick with steam and the smell of the bubble bath calms you down. Severus reached down to you and helped relieve you from your soiled wet clothes. Sometimes you needed to be babied a bit and this was one of those moments. He was so gentle as he slipped you off the counter and into the warm soapy water in the awaiting claw foot tub across the room.

Letting out a deep sigh as your cold skin met with the warm water, finally able to begin washing away the worries of the day. Severus moved to retrieve a low stool to sit on and sat it beside you. “Is the water the correct temperature?” He asked down to you. “Mmm yes it’s perfect.” You replied, sinking down further into the bubbles.

He chuckled as he watched you melt away in the soapy water below. His hand slipped over yours as it rested on the side gripping the cool porcelain. His large hand enveloped yours and gently rubbed into your tired skin. The world seemed to begin to melt away and your body became fuzzy and light. “Sev what did you give me?” You asked softly with eyes still closed.

“I knew you never paid attention in class.” He chuckled deeply “it’s The Draught of Peace, you learn it in fifth year but it is a pretty difficult potion to brew.” You could only hum in response as the potion was taking full effect by now. Your once tense limbs were loose and the headache that had formed from your fits of crying had now disappeared.

The added stimulation of the steaming water and soft kisses Severus was planting down on the back of your hand were making your body tingle. It felt so good just to be able to forget about your troubles for a moment. To be completely taken care of by Severus in your moment of need.

You relaxed in the tub for a while letting the warm water turn your body into a prune. After a bit of letting you decompress Severus reached for your bottle of shampoo and gently motioned for you to raise up. The cool gel sent a shiver down your back when he began to massage it into your scalp.

He watched you push your head back into his lathered touch, eyes closed savoring the pampering he wasn’t completely accustomed to showing. He smiled down at you, savoring the view of you pushing yourself to be closer to him.

He would never say this out loud but it was almost as if he could feel the love flowing between the two of you. Right from his fingertips and into you and back around again. He crumpled at the fact that after the mess of a day you had you found solace within him.

You felt comfort and safety in his presence. No matter the horrors of the work day you knew you could come home and fall into his arms and he would help you. Of course you would do the same with him but he wasn’t too accustomed to falling into anyone’s arms willingly (lol), but, you knew if he ever needed it you’d be right there for him.

He washed and conditioned your hair and helped you wash your back when the time came. He was there ready with a soft and warm towel that he had heated up with a flick of his wand. He wrapped you up tightly and made your way into the bedroom to get your coziest pjs, which was just one of his shirts.

While you changed you heard a knock at the door and an exchange between Sev and someone else. By the time you made it down to the living room, in need of a good trash tv show to binge, you noticed piles of Chinese takeaways spread out on the coffee table. “Sev you are one beautiful man you know that right?” You said looking over to him. “Well I do try my best” he said with a laugh

You slithered your way over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He instantly met your forehead once more are planted kisses down on it. You smiled feeling his lips against your skin. “Thank you for the kisses.” You cooed up to him. “Always my absolute pleasure, my love.”

[beepbeep-lettuce]

Never Enough pt.2

*kinda angst but not? lol*

This is part 2 of this angst.

☆.。.：*゜☆ﾞ.。.：*゜☆.。.：*゜☆ .。.：*゜☆

It’s a beautiful thing. Love I mean. It often comes unexpectedly, forcing you through many emotions and challenges. Suddenly, it’s no longer just you, it’s you and I. Gone are the days where you only think about yourself, where you can do whatever you want without having to worry about how it affects another. It’s a big change and it won’t always be easy. But nobody said love was easy, right? Certainly not Satoru.

☆.。.：*゜☆ﾞ.。.：*゜☆.。.：*゜☆ .。.：*゜☆

*FLASHBACK*

When you came into his life, everything wasn’t so complicated. He had his looks, his charm, his six eyes, his friends.. but he didn’t have you. Not yet anyway. Gojo had always said that you were the missing puzzle piece in his life. Existence just felt right with you around. Even Shoko and Suguru liked you! Life was just… well, perfect! Not a day went by where he didn’t remind you how lucky he was to have caught you (coincidentally) that day on the sidewalk. You were breathtaking. Of course he had been captivated by your beauty the moment he laid eyes on you. Him and his friends had been walking around and enjoying their free time which seemed few and far between these days when a gorgeous sight befell Gojo’s eye sight. You, so beautiful in your flowy sundress that rested upon your figure so delicately. You, who were currently walking towards him and not paying attention to a rock on ground while you snickered with your friends about something irrelevant. And as your- not so graceful- form stumbled towards the rough pavement, two strong arms caught you. Your disoriented eyes flickering up to meet his that looked at you from behind his dark sunglasses, and in that moment Satoru knew that he had found his missing piece.

“Oh god- I am so sorry!” You blurted as you scrambled back onto your feet. Bowing down slightly as some sort of an apology.

“No worries! I’m just glad you didn’t fall and hurt yourself!” Satoru chuckled, his voice smooth and confident as he smiled down at you. Your friends laughing softly behind you as they watched this awkward yet- admittedly cute interaction. His friends looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“I should have looked where I was stepping I am really sorry! Thank you so much for catching me!” You giggled nervously as you looked anywhere but this extremely handsome stranger’s face. Wanting to find a way to repay him, you remembered the bag of sweet treats that you had picked up a few minutes ago.

“Oh here! Take this, it’s the least I can do!” You said cheerfully as you reached for the fluffy slice of cake that was delicately wrapped in the bag you were holding.

“No no! You don’t need to repay me doll. I was just trying to save your pretty dress from getting dirty.” He replied- pulling his glasses slightly down and giving you a wink. His friends still watching this exchange with amusement and slight disgust at how unlike him Gojo was acting. And once you saw his piercing blue eyes, you were hooked.

“Please! Take it! It’s a thank you for saving my dress- and my pride!” You replied with a grimace as you shoved the little box into his hands. Giving him no choice but to take it.

“Anyway, thank you again!” You said hurriedly as you turned back to your friends and quickly walking away before he could say anything. You were hoping he hadn’t noticed the redness that had spread across your face.

“He was cuteeee!” One of your girlfriends squealed.

“Yeah! If you don’t want him, can I have him?” The other one smiled as she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“H-hey wait!” Satoru said loudly, perhaps a bit too loud. As he took two long strides towards you, grabbing one of your wrists gently to stop you from leaving. Your girlfriends quickly walking away as they turned back to give you a thumbs up, silently signaling that they’d wait for you further ahead.

“Can I at least get your name?” He spoke in a tone a bit more desperate than he was used to.

“L/n Y/n. And what about you, mysterious stranger?” you retorted with a smile. The redness in your cheeks only intensifying as he looked at you.

“Gojo Satoru, at your service.” He said as he released your wrist and bowed like an old timey gentleman which made you snicker.

“Well Gojo Satoru, it was nice to meet you.” You curtsied awkwardly in return before you began to turn away once more. Oh yeah, he was gonna marry you.

“Wait, can I uhh.. take you out some time?” His voice faltered nervously, taking him by surprise again. Who were you? Why was he so nervous? He’s Gojo Satoru!

“I’d like that.” You smiled.

☆.。.：*゜☆ﾞ.。.：*゜☆.。.：*゜☆ .。.：*゜☆

“She’s pregnant, right?” Shoko asked in her normal monotone voice.

“H-how do you-“ He sputtered.

“I was with her when she found out.” She said.

When-“ he began.

“Look, if I was you I’d go back home and do whatever it is you do after work. Shes safe, but she doesn’t want to see nor talk to you.” She spoke coldly into the phone.

“Shoko, tell me where she is. I need to talk to her. I need to clear things up please!” He almost screamed desperately.

“Why now? Why don’t you go back to ignoring her like you’ve been doing for the past 6 months? Seems like you were doing just fine not talking to her then. You’ll be fine now.” She continued. How did Shoko know? Had he missed something? He never thought to ask if you’d been spending time anywhere else and beside your bakery.

“What are you talking about? Are you best friends now or what? What did I miss” He babbled.

“Maybe if you got your head out of your ass for two seconds you’d realize what the hell you were putting your wife through. Maybe she needed a friend to lean on while her husband was absent in their marriage. Regardless, you’re still my friend so I’ll tell you this. She is safe, her and the baby will okay and you need to give her space and get your shit together before you come looking for her.” She said sternly before cutting the call.

“What the fuck just happened.” He asked himself incredulously, letting the shock set in. Shoko was right, he’d been so caught up in his own little brooding world that he didn’t realize how horridly he was treating you at home.

☆.。.：*゜☆ﾞ.。.：*゜☆.。.：*゜☆ .。.：*゜☆

“What did I just do Shoko?! I just left him! Just like that! The father of my future child!” You sobbed as your friend set a warm cup of tea down on the coffee table, rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you. Comforting didn’t really come naturally to her but for you, her unexpected close friend, she’d suck it up.

“He didn’t deny that he was cheating or anything! He just sputtered as I walked out the door! I don’t know what’s going on! He’s so different now- it’s like I don’t even know who he is anymore!” You continued to sob into your hands.

“Like I’ve said before, as much as I hate him right now, I have to admit that I don’t think he’d cheat on you. He’s been head over heels for you since he laid his stupid blue eyes on you. I was literally there.” Shoko sighed as she grabbed the cup of tea and offered it towards your trembling hands. Taking a deep breath in you sniffled as you grabbed it.

“Then what else could it be? Why does he spend so much time at “work”? The Satoru I know would take any chance he got to get away from work to come back home to me!It just doesn’t make any sense! Why does he come back smelling of perfume?” You ranted as you sipped at your tea. A sudden wave of nausea coming over you forcing you to run towards Shoko’s bathroom, immediately throwing up into the toilet. You didn’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or the overwhelming emotions swirling in your head that were the cause.

“Well, I did mention that there’s been a lot of talk about some special grade curses that have been popping up more frequently. Maybe he’s just been getting caught up with that? I mean there’s been a lot of injured sorcerers coming in lately.” She said as she held your hair up. Once you’d finish emptying your stomach, you shakily got up to rinse your mouth with a cup of water that Shoko had placed on the sink.

“As for the perfume, there’s a lot of different sorcerers that have been coming around and joining meetings about those special grades, maybe one of them just wears a lot of perfume?” She tried to rationalize. She hated Satoru right now sure- but did she think he’d cheat on you? No. Not for a second. If she was honest, she hadn’t seen much of him for months. But what she did know was that special grades were becoming a problem, and nobody was better at exorcising them than Gojo Satoru.

“I don’t know what to think! He’s the love of my life, I want to believe that it’s anything but infidelity. I just can’t think of anything else that it could be! He’s made it so difficult these last few months.” You signed defeatedly. However, before you could even leave the bathroom there was a frantic knocking coming from the front door. Your breath hitched as the knocking continued, causing the both of you to freeze. Of course you knew who it was, but you weren’t sure you had the strength to face him right now.

“Go into the guest room, okay? I’ll deal with him.” She said reassuringly. Nodding, you made your way to her guest room. However, being unable to stop yourself, you walked back to the end of the hallway so you could eavesdrop on their exchange.

“What do you want?” She asked bluntly, looking up at her disheveled friend. His blindfold had been pulled down around his neck and the rain falling behind him.

“I know she’s in here, Shoko. Let me in” he said in a much calmer tone than she had anticipated.

“She doesn’t want to see you. Go away.” She stated coldly.

“I’m not asking. Let me see my wife.” He said in a stern yet controlled demeanor.

“I said she doesn’t want to see you, just leave her alone. Haven’t you done enough? You had your chance.” Her voice rising slightly, uncharacteristically.

“I’m getting in there one way or another Shoko.” He said, no longer looking down at his only remaining friend. Instead, he focused on a familiar figure behind her walking towards the door.

“I said no-“ she began, but before she could continue she felt your delicate hand on her shoulder. Her head spun around to look at you in an expression that said “what the hell are you doing?”.

“It’s okay Shoko.” You said quietly, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Fine, but I’m gonna be right inside if you need me. And don’t step too far from the door.” She agreed as she handed you an umbrella. Not sparing a glance at Satoru before retreating back inside and shutting the door softly.

“Baby please, let me explain. I promise it’ll all make sense.” he spoke gently, his hands reaching towards yours, not expecting you to flinch away slightly. His eyes widening in shock.

“What do you want, Satoru? Did you come to yell at me and call me useless some more?” You spat, looking directly into his cerulean eyes that searched yours in silent desperation.

“Darling, please let me explain.” He said in almost a whisper, anticipating your response which came in only a slight nod. And with a nervous gulp, he began.

“6 months ago, there was an uptick in special grade curse sightings. Of course I was sent to exorcise them, but when I went on a mission one night, I saw..” he sighed, closing his eyes before resuming.

“I saw Suguru..” he said.

“S-Suguru? But Suguru is..” your words faded.

“I know. He- he looked like him, he spoke like him. Or- it tried to but something was off. Once I really got a look, I realized it wasn’t him. And in that moment, he- it took stitches out of his forehead and showed me what it really was. A curse that transferred its brain into his body. My best friend’s body. He- he was using his body like his puppet.” Satoru let out a mix of a sigh and a laugh in disbelief. Your eyes widened in shock as he continued, his own beginning to water and a desperate hand gripping his snow white hair. You desperately fought back the urge to reach up and stroke his face to comfort him, like you tended to do when he was in distress. Your beloved Satoru, he’d been going through so much and you were none the wiser. But that doesn’t change the way he hurt you.

“He tried to capture me in the prison realm but he was unsuccessful. And as more sorcerers came he was forced to leave before they could arrive. Ever since then I’ve been going insane trying to find him and get my best friend’s body back. The late nights aren’t me going to “get dinner” they’re me trying to find where this fucking curse is and getting my best friend back, so his body can rest in peace. I never meant to put up so many barriers between us. A-As for the perfume- I’ve been spending more time around other sorcerers to help with the search, one of them being Mei Mei. I paid her to help me look for him and she won’t stop spraying that stuff every 30 fucking minutes. But that’s irrelevant. I promise you I would never be and have never been unfaithful to you. I adore you, y/n.” He said, his hand finally taking a hold of yours as you tried to process everything he’d just dumped onto you. Your shocked eyes searching his for any sign of dishonesty, but his expression never wavered. His eyes only looking back at yours with intense sincerity.

“I know that nothing I say will ever make up for what I put you through these past months, but if you’ll have me I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you are the love of my life. I’ll spend the rest of my days slowly gaining your trust back. I’d give up my six eyes if it meant that you’d give me another chance, my love.” He said as he slowly brought your hand up to to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of it.

“I-I don’t know what to say..” you stuttered. And you truly didn’t. You had no reason not to believe your husband, it all tracked. I mean who wouldn’t lose their minds after seeing their best friend being used as a flesh puppet after their supposed death.

“I know that you deserve better, my darling. I will never forgive myself for hurting you. But I promise- I swear to you that I’ll be a better husband to you. I’ll be the best husband you could ask for. I’ll be the best father I can be to our little one. I’d do anything for you, y/n.” He professed.

“I don’t need you to be “the best husband”, I need you to be the Satoru that I met all those years ago. The Satoru that vowed to be with me in sickness and in health, I love you too- more than you’ll ever know. But how can I go back so easily? I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but why did you shut yourself away from me? I’m your wife, Satoru! I’m supposed to be your support! How can I be there for you if you don’t let me? How can I know that you won’t just go back to the way you’ve been for half a year?” You said, your voice trembling and the tears that welled up in your lash line now falling down your cheeks once more. Satoru’s hands gently cupped your face as he wiped at your tears, like he always did. His expression softening.

“That’s a risk that you have to take, baby. And I know that you have no reason to take it, but I want you to know that whatever you choose- I’ll be here for you and the baby. Until the day I die.” His eyes staring back into your own with the love that you hadn’t felt for 6 arduous months. This was your Satoru, the father of your unborn child. And after a moment that felt like eternity for the both of you..

“I- Yes!” You choked out in a sob. Your free hand reaching up to cup his cheek causing him to let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

“Thank you.. thank you so much, Y/n. I promise you that I will make up for it till the last of my days. I will never let any form of harm come to you or our baby.” Satoru spoke earnestly. He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off of the ground and kissing you like he did the day he married you.

“I love you, Y/n Gojo.” He whispered into your kiss.

It didn’t have to be instant and it would certainly be a very long and very emotionally painful process. But with your Satoru by your side, your little family would make it. Because, that’s what love is. There will be ups and there will be downs. It’ll be difficult and sometimes painful, but there isn’t a manual you can read that tells you how to navigate love gracefully. Bumps in the road will always happen. Some worse than others, but if you’re willing to work on it- there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel. After all, nobody said love was easy.

☆.。.：*゜☆ﾞ.。.：*゜☆.。.：*゜☆ .。.：*゜☆

I didn’t expect such positive reactions on my last post! Thank you sooo much for that! Anyway I didn’t know what direction I wanted to take with this part so I just decided to wing it. I’m not completely happy with it but I hope you guys liked it. :3 *this does not follow the cannon story like %100!*

Disclaimer: very much not edited, I finished this at 5:30AM ˁ῁̬ˀ

@chilichopsticks @kaetheii @kalopsia-flaneur @angelina7890

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 17: Hell

Contents | Part 16 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) The world seems to be getting brighter for Ellis, until a sudden, unexpected turn of events threatens to plunge her back into darkness.

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes, angst, hurt, scenes & descriptions of panic/panic attack, derealisation, food avoidance & weight loss, menstruation and low mood. I'm sorry in advance, please don't hate me lol. Readers must be 18+

You hadn't believed Nicola when she said you had a glow. But the warmth in your cheeks was undeniable now, the sparkle in your eyes and weightlessness of your footsteps. You felt pretty, radiant, the corners of your mouth resting in a natural smile.

A day had passed since your night with Father Benedict, and you still hadn't floated all the way back down to earth. Even as you walked home from work, the moody September sky threatening a downpour, you seemed to glide along the pavement. 

You walked into the Boots across the street from your flat, perusing the aisles for a new shampoo when a bath bomb caught your eye. It was shaped like a cartoon frog, bright green with cute pink cheeks, sitting on a lily pad made of sponge, packaged inside its own little box. It made you think of your downstairs neighbours, Lorna and Blossom, how they'd knocked on your door a few days after you moved in to introduce themselves with a plate of homemade fairy cakes, complete with runny, translucent icing and silver sugar pearls. Since then, you'd said hello whenever you passed in the hall. 

Lorna was like a walking rainbow, dressing in cardigans and long skirts, dungarees and shirts buttoned up to the collar; always bright and bold, mismatched prints and primary colours. Her long blonde hair flowed all the way down to her backside; she would sometimes plait it, other times it would be wrapped in a huge knot on top of her head. She reminded you of a 90's preschool cartoon, vivid and exaggerated, even down to her large, clear-framed glasses that were too big for her face. 

Her daughter Blossom was six. With long hair to rival her mother's, pixie-like features and a freckled nose. She was obsessed with frogs; frog hats, frog earrings, frog t-shirts, frog backpack and a plush frog teddy that she carried everywhere with her. She didn't speak much, turning shy and bashful whenever she was in your presence.

You picked up the bath bomb along with a new shampoo, paying for them and carrying them across the road towards your flat. When you got inside, you knocked on their front door, stepping back to avoid dirtying the doormat with your shoes. Lorna opened it soon after, a pencil tucked behind her ear and smudges of oil paint on her hands. 

"Sorry to bother you," you said, holding up the bath bomb. "I got this for Blossom. Hope you don't mind." 

Her eyes widened in gleeful surprise. "Oh, that's so sweet! You really didn't have to."

"I couldn't resist," you said with a shrug. 

She ushered you into her flat, wiping her hands on her trousers. "Blossom!" she called out, her voice like a tinkling bell. 

The little girl came running in from her room, dressed in a fluffy green frog onesie. 

"Ellis got you a little present," said Lorna. 

You held out the bath bomb, smiling when you saw her face brighten with joy. She ran up to you, taking the box and bringing it up to her face to look at it closely.

Lorna giggled, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her trousers. "What do you say?"

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're welcome," you replied.

She hurried away excitedly, disappearing back into her room.

"That was really nice of you, thank you," said Lorna. "Can I get you a cup of tea?" 

You didn't drink tea, but you accepted anyway, following her into the kitchen and sitting at the small, round dining table. 

She placed a mug in front of you. It was wonky and misshapen, hand-painted with bright, cartoonish flowers. You guessed she'd made it herself, holding it up and admiring the quirkiness of it, how there were grooves in the handle that fit your fingers perfectly. 

"So," she said, sitting down with you. "How are you settling in?" 

"Fine," you replied as you took a sip of tea. "Still lots to do but I'm not in any rush." 

"Oh I'm so glad to have someone living up there again. The last owners were lovely but they just outgrew the place."

"Kids?" 

"Mm. A little boy and twin baby girls."

"Well that explains the crayon scribbles on my bedroom skirting board." 

She laughed. "Blossom drew on the walls in her room last year. I call them her cave paintings."  

You smiled, blowing away the steam rising from your mug before taking another sip.

"It's just you up there, isn't it?" she asked. 

"Mhm." 

"First place?" 

"Yes and no. First place I've owned myself. But I rented before with some... friends."  

"Ah."

"How long have you lived here?" 

She blew out a puff of air, thinking for a moment. "About five and a bit years. I don't own it though, just rent." 

"What about Rav?" You pointed to the ceiling. "Does he own or rent?" 

"Oh he owns it. Bought it with his girlfriend a few years ago, only to have her run off with someone else about six months later." 

"Bloody hell." 

"I know." She flicked her incredibly long hair off her shoulder, letting it cascade over the back of the chair. "What about you, are you seeing anyone?" 

"Oh, no, well- not really. I don't-"

"It's complicated?" 

"Yeah." You breathed out a laugh. 

She gave an understanding smile, wrapping her hands around her mug. You glanced down at the paint settled in her knuckles, the smudges and stains on her nail polish. 

"Are you a painter?" you asked. 

"Hm? Oh, yeah." She pointed behind you. "I'm in the middle of a commission and I hate it. Tempted to paint over it and start again."

You twisted your body, looking over at a large canvas leaning against the back wall. It was as colourful as she was, abstract shapes bleeding into one another, creating veins and swirls like a piece of marble. 

"I like it," you said. "Reminds me of Gerhard Richter." 

"Oh wow, thank you," she said, surprise in her tone. "Are you an artist as well?" 

"No, god no. But I have a degree in graphic design so I know a little bit about art."

"Is that what you do for work?"

You grimaced. "Unfortunately not. I do editing for a photography studio."

"Why the sour face? Do you not like it?"

"Not particularly."

"Well what do you want to do?"

You paused, taking another sip of tea. "Dream job? I'd love to design book covers."

"Well why don't you pursue it?"

"I don't know." You shrugged. "I suppose I just got complacent, stuck in a rut. I needed a steady income, never felt like I could take the risk."

"But that's the kind of job you do freelance, right? Like... build your own business, find clients yourself?"

You nodded. "Mostly, yeah."

"So do it!" she said enthusiastically, gently nudging you with her elbow. "Rav's got a printer, he could make you some business cards."

You laughed, finding it charming how facile her view of the world seemed to be.

"Promise you'll think about it," she said.

"Yes," you chuckled. "I'll think about it."

You stayed a little longer, taking comfort in the lighthearted chitchat, the familiar smell of incense coming from somewhere in the flat. You found yourself opening up, telling her about Gina, about Alfie and the 'friend' who punched him in the face for you. When you mentioned you had a niece named Soleil, she clasped her hands together and gasped, falling in love with the name, unsurprisingly, and asking to see pictures.

You rarely came away from conversations without regret; playing them back in your head and wishing you'd said things differently, smiled more, not made the awkward joke. But as you went upstairs and stepped into your flat, your mind was calm, quiet, and it made you breathe easier, somehow. Like everything was finally coming together; your light expanding, getting brighter. 

You dumped your bag at the door and kicked off your shoes, pulling out your phone and sending a text to Father Benedict. 

I think I made a friend today. 

You put the phone on the arm of the couch and made your way into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting it steam up the room as you stripped away your clothes. You'd been making an effort to look at your naked body more often, to view yourself through the lens of the man who'd made you feel so beautiful. You weren't sure it was working; your eyes still zoning in on the most minor imperfections. 

You got into the shower and washed with your favourite soap, groaning when you realised you'd left your new shampoo on Lorna's kitchen table downstairs. Instead you battled with the old bottle, squeezing out the remnants and lathering it into your hair. You rinsed it away, slathering on conditioner and running a razor over your legs as you waited to wash it out. 

When you were done, you stepped out, shivering as your warm, wet skin met the cool air. You wrapped a towel around your body and another around your head, padding leisurely back into the living room to check your phone. 

He hadn't replied. 

You pushed out your lip like a disappointed child, throwing the phone back down and wandering into your bedroom to get dressed. 

You cherished a day off work, especially during the week. You'd woken up to heavy rain and a dark grey sky, making coffee and sitting at the window as you watched a sea of hoods and umbrellas meandering along the street below. 

You tipped the last dregs of coffee into your mouth and carried the mug into the kitchen, placing it in the sink before making your way to the bedroom. You straightened out the duvet and lay the pillows neatly at the top of the mattress, before rooting through a box of clothes and choosing the first things you found. 

You took the clothes into the bathroom, placing them on the counter next to the sink as you brushed your teeth and combed your fingers through your hair. You took off the t-shirt you'd slept in, throwing it in the washing basket near the door and turning to look at yourself in the mirror again.

It had been two days now since Father Benedict spent the night; the passage of time evident in your fading love bites and lightening bruises. You wished you never had to go without him, longing for the marks to remain fresh and new, for his lips to restore them before they ever had a chance to disappear. 

You changed your underwear and pulled on the clothes; a pair of leggings you were constantly having to steal back from Gina, and a big sweatshirt that completely swallowed your frame. It wasn't the most exciting outfit you'd ever worn, but the sound of rain battering against the windows made it hard to care.

You took out your phone, writing another message to Father Benedict.

Hey, I have a day off today. Do you need help with your book club?

You put the phone on the edge of the sink and continued to get ready, putting on makeup, perfume, tying your hair up and taking it down again several times before finally leaving it loose.   

 You walked into the living room and sat down on the couch to put on your socks and shoes, when the faint buzz of your phone against the sink echoed through the flat. You hurried back into the bathroom, sighing in disappointment when Mara's name appeared on the screen.

Got Soleil's new pictures back. They're so much better. Thank you!

You typed back a quick reply and locked your phone, catching a glimpse of yourself in the glossy black screen. Your brow was furrowed, lips pouted slightly. Why hadn't he replied? 

The bus made a harsh stop, sending you stumbling down the narrow aisle, gripping the bars to stop yourself from falling. You stepped down onto the pavement, pulling up the hood of your coat and holding onto it to keep it up. The rain was unrelenting, soaking into your leggings and seeping into your trainers as you walked the short distance to the parish pub. The uneven path was flooded with deep puddles, patches of moss turning slick and slippery. 

You pushed through the doors and took down your hood, the hair around your face still wet despite your attempts to shield it. The pub was quiet, a handful of regulars sitting on the other end of the bar chatting to the landlord. You made your way towards the room at the back, the door closed, signs and notices still plastered across it. 

You tried the handle, but it was locked. You curled your hands around your eyes and peered in through the small window, finding nothing inside besides the stack of metal chairs in the corner, an empty table pushed up against the far wall.

"What the fuck," you whispered to yourself, turning around and heading back into the main part of the pub. 

You didn't stick around, the landlord too enthralled in conversation for you to interrupt. Instead you walked back outside, making your way to the church, almost slipping as you jogged up the steps. 

The doors were open. You stepped inside, rainwater dripping from the hem of your coat and leaving dark speckles in the dusty pink carpet. You walked slowly towards the chapel, a shuffling sound echoing inside, the sound of a hymn being hummed between tired, breathless sighs. You went in, passing the votive stand where a single orange flame flickered amongst rows of unlit candles. It was dull, the moody sky letting in little sunlight through the windows, the pews empty, the chancel tidy and undisturbed. 

You looked down to see June crouched at a cabinet near the entrance, polishing trinkets with a rag - chalices, statues and a golden holy water pot - placing each one carefully back inside the cabinet when she was done. 

"Hi," you said quietly, trying not to frighten her. 

She glanced up at you. "Oh, hello dear." 

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, averting your gaze as she struggled to get up. You took a step forward and reached out your hand to help her, but she didn't see it, grabbing the top of the cabinet instead and hoisting herself up with a grumble. 

"I was er, I was just over at the pub for the book club," you said. "But nobody's there. Has the meeting place changed? Or the time, or...?" 

"Oh, all meetings have been cancelled until further notice." 

"They have? How come?" 

"Well, no one's here to run them," she said with a shrug, as though it was obvious. 

"Oh..." You furrowed your brow in confusion, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat and clearing your throat. "Right, okay. Well never mind, is er, is Father Benedict in his office? I just wanted to speak to him about something." 

She paused, twisting the rag in her fingers. Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips parting in hesitation. "Dear, did you not hear?" she shook her head, an uncharacteristic gentleness in her tone. "He left."

"Left?" you repeated, so quietly it was almost inaudible. 

"Yes, left. A notice was sent out, did you not get it?" 

"N-no, no I don't receive newsletters or... anything like... What do you mean he left? Left where?" You gave an awkward, breathy laugh. 

"This parish." She gestured to the chapel around you. "He gave his service as usual Monday morning then afterwards he was just... Gone. Apparently he asked the bishop to relocate him."

You took in a sharp, silent breath, eyes darting around as your mind began to race. 

She seemed to notice your shock, cocking her head and looking at you with concern. "Are you okay?" 

"I... I don't..." 

"I know. It was all very sudden, took everyone by surprise-"

You interrupted her with a stutter, the words struggling to form on your tongue. "Wh... I- H- Wh- When...?" 

"Yesterday. I truly thought he would have told you. You've gotten so close-"

"Why?" you whispered, voice shaking. 

She pressed her lips together solemnly. "No one knows." 

Your heart was thumping, wide eyes welling with tears. You blinked them away quickly, drawing in a deep, quivering breath in an attempt to calm yourself down. 

"Okay," you said. "Okay, erm... Th- thanks, June. I'll erm... Thanks." 

You pivoted on your heels and rushed to the exit, not bothering to pull up your hood as you emerged back out into the rain. Your limbs felt like liquid, your chest hollow as your heart pounded against your ribcage. When you walked, it was as if your legs were moving independently, ignoring the path and trudging you right through the grass and beneath the trees towards the rectory. 

He wouldn't have just left. He couldn't. There had to be a mistake, a miscommunication or some sort of stupid joke. It was all a joke, a cruel, unfunny, pointless joke. 

You hammered your fist against the rectory door, standing in the rain, waiting for it to open. But when no one came, you took out your phone, trying to dry it with your wet sleeve as you found his name with shaking fingers. You pressed the phone to your ear, waiting as it rang out, refusing to hang up until the automated voice began to speak. You knocked on the door again, stumbling through the flower bed beneath the living room window and rising on your tiptoes to look inside. 

There was no blanket on the couch, no games console beside the TV or books on the coffee table. There were no coats on the hook or shoes near the door, no framed pictures of his parents and brother on the shelves or box of clutter he'd never found a place for. All the little things that made it feel like home were gone. 

Your breath turned shallow, ears whooshing with every throb of your pulse as you stumbled backwards, accidentally crushing the hydrangeas and marigolds beneath your feet. You redialled his number, calling him again when a figure suddenly appeared from the corner of your eye. You turned quickly, letting out a forlorn sigh when you saw the groundskeeper pushing a wheelbarrow across the grass, approaching you tentatively. 

"Y'alright?" he called out, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously from beneath the hood of his anorak. 

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes watering in despondency as you hung up the phone and slipped it back into your pocket.

"Miss...? Do you need some help?" he asked.  

"I was... I was looking for the priest." You kept breaking eye contact, struggling to keep your voice steady. "She said he left." 

He was concerned now, lowering his wheelbarrow and walking towards you, wellies squelching in the soggy grass. 

You stared down at your feet, the purples and oranges ground into the mud beneath your shoes. "I squashed your flowers..." 

"Hey, that's alright," he said softly, extending a hand to you, helping you step over the rest. "And we'll be getting a new priest soon. Or you can talk to the deacon if you want? I can take you to see him?" 

"No. No, that's okay." You backed away. "I'm sorry about the flowers." 

You felt his eyes on you as you walked away, certain he thought you were insane. You felt insane, unable to slow your breathing or think clearly. You screwed your eyes shut as you walked out of the church grounds, playing back your last moments with Father Benedict, searching for a sign, a moment you could pluck out and cast blame upon. 

The world around you seemed to skew as you walked down the street; the pavement slanting, rain hitting the ground in an iridescent blur. Your stomach hurt, throat aching as you tried to swallow past a lump lodged in your oesophagus. You took out your phone again but you couldn't get your thumbs to work, like a chill had settled into your bones, freezing your knuckles and rendering them useless. 

When you arrived at Mara's house, you had no memory of how you got there. You walked up to the front door and pressed the bell, your hair drenched, rain dripping off the tip of your nose and soaking into your clothes, making them stick to you like a second layer of skin. She opened the door soon after, her expression immediately turning from surprise to worry as she took in the sight of you. 

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked. "You look like you're about to throw up." 

Something inside you suddenly broke, like an overflowing dam that could no longer withstand the weight of the deluge. Your lip quivered, eyes filling with tears, and you finally began to cry.

"That fucker," you heard Mara hiss from the hallway. 

You'd told her everything, unable to stop once the words started coming. She'd sat with you on her couch, staring at you in awe as you spoke through sobs; describing every lustful glance and intimate conversation, the undeniable attraction and how hard he'd tried to resist his desires. You told her about the confessional and the kiss on the credence table, you told her where you'd really been the night you walked out on Alfie and Gina, and how he'd given you his number the next morning. 

It spilled out of you like a flood; all the time you'd spent at the church, the rectory, his office. The places you'd slept together and the things he said when no one else could hear. You asked her what you did wrong, why he would leave without any warning or explanation. But she had no answers, resolving to awkwardly patting your leg, whispering how sorry she was as you cried into your hands. 

You must have fallen asleep at some point, stirring to the sound of Mara and Nathan whispering beyond the living room door.

"She never cries, Nathan. You should have seen her." 

"I'm still getting my head around the fact that she was doing it with a priest," he whispered. 

"Ugh. I swear to God I'm going to find out where he's gone, I'm going to go there and smack the shit out of him."

"No you're not." 

"Yes I fucking am." 

You sat up slightly, rolling your shoulders and pressing your fingers into your eyes, trying to soothe a headache that was beginning to form. 

"She was just starting to sort her life out," Mara whispered. "Now this. He has broken her, Nathan. How could he do that?"

Soleil let out a cry through the baby monitor. You listened as Nathan ran up the stairs, his footsteps thumping on the ceiling above you. Mara pushed open the living room door and peered her head around it, her brow raising when she saw you were awake.

"Oh, hey," she said. 

"Hi," you replied quietly.

Her eyes flitted from your hair to your clothes, your trainers caked in mud on her pristine, cream carpet. 

"Why don't you go up and get a shower," she said. "You can borrow some dry clothes."

You shook your head. 

"A bath?" 

"I'm fine, really."

"You're soaking wet." 

You shrugged. "I'll just get wet going home anyway."

She inhaled a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. "Y'know, you could stay here. Even for a couple of days, if you wanted to." 

"Thanks, but I think I just need to be on my own."

Her brows curved upwards in concern. 

"I'm not going to off myself over a man," you said dryly. "Don't worry." 

She rolled her eyes. "Just... You know you'll be fine, right? Like in the long run." 

You gave a weak, unconvincing nod. 

It was dark by the time Mara drove you home. You said goodbye and let yourself into the building, traipsing up the stairs like your body weighed a ton. You were tired, confused, your head pounding, eyelids swollen from crying. 

You stepped into your living room, the stained glass window you'd once adored less beautiful to you now; an allegory of pain, loss, heartbreak. You walked over, dragging the large curtains shut to cover it up, before turning around, your eyes immediately drawn to the sacred heart on the table. You couldn't even bring yourself to go near it, averting your gaze as you flopped down onto the couch. 

And that was where you stayed. For two days you barely moved, telling work you were sick and ignoring everything from texts to your own growling stomach. You would drift in and out of sleep, spending your waking hours sitting in silence, darkness, only moving when you couldn't hold in your pee any longer. Then you would return to your pit on the couch, staying there until your bladder filled again. 

By the second day, your hair itched, and your clothes felt uncomfortable against your skin. It was as if nothing else was real beyond the space in front of you, like the rest of the world no longer existed because you couldn't see it. You felt dizzy and weak, finally relenting and forcing yourself to move when you could have sworn you saw a cushion get up and walk across the floor like a dog. You drew the line at hallucinating.

You made your way into the kitchen, your stomach aching with hunger, throat burning with thirst. The two glasses still sat on the draining board, side-by-side, like a cruel reminder of him. Your body shivered with the memory of his hands on you, fingers digging into your hips as he bent you over the sink. He'd kissed you so softly that night, touched you like you were made of porcelain, filled your ear with the most tender words. Had it all been a lie? 

You drank water straight from the spout of the filter, grabbed a box of crackers from the cupboard before putting them back, the mere sight of them making you feel nauseous. Your phone was on the arm of the couch, you picked it up when you returned to the living room, scrolling through the wall of texts you'd sent him over the past two days. 

Not delivered.

Not delivered. 

Not delivered.

Not delivered.

Not delivered. 

He wasn't coming back. 

There was a part of you that tried to cling to the idea that he might. But as each day passed, another finger lost its grip, until eventually you'd let go completely.  

It had been a week since you closed the curtains, and you hadn't opened them since. The sacred heart picture still stood on the table, your bookcase still half-filled, exactly how he'd left it. You'd imagined dancing with him in this living room, the colourful glass glittering across your swaying bodies. But there'd been no dancing. You couldn't even bring yourself to let light in. 

Your period was late again. But this time, when it finally came, you didn't feel relief. It was strange, sitting on the bathroom floor with your knees to your chest to ease the cramps, and almost feeling sad. You didn't want to be pregnant. In fact, you hadn't decided if you ever wanted to be a mother at all. But seeing the blood, feeling the ache, it was like your body was cleansing itself of him. The bruises were gone, love bites faded, and now your insides were shedding. Starting a new cycle and leaving him behind in the last one. 

There was a knock at your front door. You got up to answer it, trying to hide your disappointment when you saw Rav from downstairs on the other side.

"Hi," he said with a pleasant smile.

"Hi," you replied unenthusiastically.

"Sorry for bothering you. Lorna asked me to come and check on you. Not seen you in a while, wondered if you were okay." 

"Oh. Yeah I'm- I'm fine. I've just been ill, that's all." 

He nodded, eyes lingering on your face for a moment. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

"Yeah. Really." 

It was clear he'd noticed the weight you'd lost, and the bags under your eyes were undeniable. He hovered at the front door, as though he didn't feel comfortable leaving you alone. 

You sighed and took a step back, gesturing for him to come inside. 

"Wow, it's er... It's dark in here," he said, breathing out a laugh as he looked around your living room. 

"I've got a period headache," you said bluntly. "The light hurts my eyes." 

"Ah, fair enough." He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Y'know, I've not been up here before. It's nice. I think it's bigger than my place as well." 

You pressed your lips into a forced smile. 

He eyed you up and down briefly. "Ellis... When was the last time you ate?" 

You gave an exasperated sigh. "Rav, I appreciate you checking on me, but I'm fine. You can go and tell Lorna I'm alive." 

"Alive, maybe. But thriving...?" 

"You have a 'Live Laugh Love' decal on your wall, don't you." 

He laughed. "Your wit's still intact, I see. That's a good sign." 

You sat down on the couch. He stood there, looking at you for a moment before taking a seat on the other side. 

"Look," he began. "I know we're still practically strangers. But... maybe that's better, y'know, I'm impartial. But whatever you're going through, you can't just hide yourself away." 

You didn't answer, letting your head fall back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling. 

"Or..." he continued. "We can just sit here. That works too." 

The silence was thick. Rav was fidgety; crossing and uncrossing his legs, looking around the room and whistling absentmindedly to himself. Eventually you turned your head to face him, speaking quietly. 

"Have you ever had someone just... disappear?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Like, have you ever felt like something was going really well, to the point where it seemed like it could turn into something... special? Permanent, even? But then... All of a sudden, they just vanish. They stop answering your calls, your texts. You don't know where they are, no idea why they walked away." 

"Are you asking if I've ever been ghosted ?"

Ghosted. You hated the term. There was something so juvenile about it, so minimising. He hadn't turned into a ghost, hadn't mysteriously disappeared in a puff of smoke. He'd left; ripped out your insides and took them with him. 

"Yeah," you said. "I suppose so."

"Yeah I've been ghosted. It fucking sucks," he said. "But what you have to understand is that it says more about them than it does you." 

"That's such a cliché things to say." You fell quiet again, moving your gaze back to the ceiling and blinking to stop tears forming. When you opened your mouth to speak again, your voice was quiet, wavering. "I just wish I knew what I did to make him leave."

He sighed, his dark, doe-like eyes rounded sympathetically. "Nothing. Nothing, Ellis, you-" He sat up properly, turning his body towards you. "If you'd done something wrong, really wrong, then he'd have wanted you to know about it. He'd have made sure you knew, because he'd be justified. But leaving without a word? That's what cowards do when they don't have a good reason for it." 

"I just... I don't know how I'm ever going to let him go." 

"It hurts to be left. Trust me, I know." He stood up. "But think of it as a gift, a blessing. Take all the love and care and attention you were reserving for him, and pour it into yourself instead." 

You didn't answer as he walked past you towards the kitchen. 

"You're going to start by eating something," he said. "Then we're going to sit down and you're going to tell me how you plan to start this book cover design business of yours."

You lifted your head and looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion.  

"Lorna tells me everything," he said. 

You couldn't help but let out a slight, halfhearted laugh. "She said you're the resident printer guy."

He smiled. "Here for all your printer needs." 

You stayed on the couch as he disappeared into the kitchen, looking at the black screen of the TV, a sickly, bony version of yourself staring back. You listened as he fished out some pots and pans, opening and closing your cupboards in search of something to make for you. 

You wanted to take his words to heart. You had to.

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen @battledress @chaosdorito @vlqueen @erratica47 @happybunnyclumsyduck @bloggerbatch @bimrwolf @chaand-sitara

*If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here

[boytumms]

Jae Anon again lol. I’ve got too much inspiration. This one comes from a drawing from @drpeppertummy where the giant invites their friend over and the little human can’t eat it all lol.

Enjoy!

~

Liriel tied his hair up into a bun as he stood on the chair, watching as Kelton placed a plate of food in front of him. Liriel’s shoulders were slightly taller than the table. “I hope you like it! I made it with food from my very own farm!” Kelton said happily, placing a straw in the cup for Liriel to reach easier.

“Thank you, I’m sure it’s delicious,” Liriel said, nervously looking at the food. Kelton had even dialed it down with the amount of food, but it still looked like way too much to eat for the small elf.

Nevertheless, Liriel dug in. He didn’t want to make his friend feel bad by not eating the food that was made for him. Liriel ate and ate, ignoring the grumbling protests as his stomach filled up more than it was used to.

“You must be pretty hungry. I can hear your stomach from over here,” Kelton said, laughing as he spoke. Liriel laughed to, trying to make it sound real despite his aching tummy.

The two continued to eat, talking and joking as Liriel’s poor tummy was stretched more and more. Liriel barely managed to finish the fried chicken leg, the grease making his stomach grumble and cramp.

Liriel still had more food to go, but he felt that if much more food was forced into his belly, he was sure to pop. The small elf rubbed his stuffed stomach, being visible as his shirt rested against loosely with little room to spare.

“You haven’t drank much water, do you need some help?” Kelton asked, reaching across the table to tilt the straw down. Liriel only nodded, forcing himself drink some of the water. His belly groaned unhappily, the water mixing in with the rest of the chicken and potatoes.

Liriel looked at the food that still sat on his plate, sighing quietly before he started eating more food. He forced himself to eat until the plate was finished, his belly becoming more and more stuffed with each bite.

Liriel crossed his arms and leaned against the table, breathing heavily as his stuffed belly hung heavily from his small frame. His shirt rested snuggly against his belly, his pants already unbuttoned to allow extra room.

“Are you ready for dessert?” Kelton asked, clearing the table to take the dishes to the kitchen.

“Maybe next time. That was a filling meal,” Liriel huffed, his groaning belly loudly protesting at the thought of more food.

“Oh nonsense! There’s always room for more!” Kelton exclaimed, walking to the kitchen. Liriel thought about leaving while Kelton was gone, but stayed because he didn’t want to be rude.

Liriel watched as Kelton put a small piece of cake in front of the small elf, accompanying it with a cup of soda. Liriel begrudgingly picked up his fork, digging into the strawberry cake. It was good, he admitted that, but he was sure it would taste better under different circumstances.

Liriel sipped some soda here and there, turning his head away to grimace as the bubbly drink messed with his already aching tummy. He slowly ate the sweet, creamy cake, pushing farther and farther as not to offend his giant friend.

When Liriel finally finished the cake, he felt like he was going to throw up. His shirt was already sliding up his rock hard belly, watching as he could see the cramps rolling through his over extended stomach.

Liriel used his hands to apply pressure to help get the bubbles out, hoping for any relief he could get. He was surprised when the straw was pushed into his mouth, looking to see an expecting Kelton. There was still half a glass left, and Liriel didn’t think he could finish it.

He gave it a try anyway, each gulp entering the mixture in his belly. Liriel held his poor belly as he felt it expand with each gulp, the bubbles only adding more pain for his excruciatingly painful stomach.

With a couple gulps left, he felt his belly button pop out. Allowing little room for his expanding stomach. Once he finished, Kelton took the dirty dishes away, allowing Liriel to desperately work at his gurgling mess of a belly.

Liriel managed to get a few small burps out, biting back a few moans of pain as he massaged his stomach. This would take a long time to process, and his stomach was going to give him hell over it.

“So, how was it? Did you like it?” Kelton asked, sitting back in his chair. Liriel pulled the hem of his shirt down, wincing a little as the shirt hugged his giant belly much to tight for his liking.

“It was delicious. I’ll have to come over another time for another meal. Thank you so much for the amazing food. I’ve got to get back now to tend to my farm, but I’ll let you know when I’m available next,” Liriel said, forcing a smile onto his face.

The elf managed to waddle himself down the tiny stairs off the chair and make his way to the door, which was a lot farther for him than the giant. Kelton waited at the door as he opened it for Liriel, paying no mind to the stuffed elf’s belly.

The two said their goodbyes and Liriel continued waddling towards his farm. Kelton could only watch through the window with a smirk, wondering how long it would take to convince Liriel to move in and become his own personal pocket boy.

oh wow I can't believe he managed to finish the whole meal! Poor little thing must have been so swollen after, with a stomach ache to match. Imagine he gets invited over almost weekly, but each time he eats so much food his body cant digest it fast enough to be empty by the time he goes over for dinner. His stomach is constantly stretched and full, and bit by bit it just gets worse each week...

[alaskan-wallflower]

We always talk about the Curtis bros, but do you have any Johnny hcs? ❤️🎞️

Oh absolutely!

(tw for suicide and s/h mentions)

He used to feed the stray animals of the lot-he’d be walking to the Curtis’ house and there would be an army of kittens and puppies following him

He names them all too, he has favorites but he won’t admit it

His favorite is a black lab he named Mocha and a dark brown cat with green eyes that he named Cinnamon (he loves his food related names)

He has the biggest appetite out of everyone in the gang-when the Curtis brothers would host thanksgiving they would make two turkeys for that reason alone

He’s very light footed and will sidle people by mistake

He hates bio because he hates dissecting things (more so after bobs death- i refuse to accept that Johnny died)

He knows karate because he would watch through a window (tying together Ralph Macchio’s roles lol)

His hair is canonically super fluffy not greased back (in the movie at least) and he secretly loves when people play with it but will never let anyone actually do it unless it’s a gang member

He always makes sassy little quips under his breath and no one gets mad because they’re actually kinda funny and original

Before their deaths, Johnny was super super close to Mrs. Curtis

Like she would leave slices of cake or leftovers from dinner on the windowsill because she knew he was too prideful (and too worried about bothering anyone) to actually ask

He doesn’t get bloated no matter how much he eats. Soda is insanely jealous

He’s not big on cuddling because he’s just jumpy but sometimes he’ll snuggle up with Pony in the lot

He’s one of the shortest in the gang, right after Sodapop (i’d say he’s 5’10’’ or so)

‘He is undefeated in burping contests and he’s proud of it (unless he’s in public then he gets all shy. Dally gives him shit for it like “come on we’ve all heard you before! don’t get all chicken on us now!”)

He isn’t subtle about being hungry either. He by far has the loudest stomach in the gang (coincidental for him being so quiet)

Him and Pony were inseparable as kids and Soda was insanely jealous (he got over it after Mrs Curtis explained Johnny doesn’t have anyone at home like Pony and that Soda has him all the time while Johnny doesn’t)

He never drinks. Ever. Even when he’s of age because he’s seen what it’s done to his parents and it scares him

The rest of the gang know this and they don’t drink around him or come near him when they’re actually drunk

He’s the prettiest crier you’ll ever see

He was an oops baby and his parents have no shame in telling him so. Because of this he often feels like a mistake and takes it out on himself in very bad ways

He has an older sister but she ran away and left him behind. He used to resent her for it but then started wondering if he would’ve gone through with it if she had gone with him

He loves croissants

He isn’t a fan of chocolate and swears sour/gummy things are better (him and Pony have bickered about this)

He has no problem standing up for himself against the gang if he thinks they’re being unfair to him

He’s not really competitive but he’s oddly good at making bets

He doesn’t bother taking a lunch period in school because he never has food anyway

He gets easily embarrassed when people know he’s hungry because he feels like he’s being a burden or something

His mom is Hispanic and his dad is Native American

He’s fluent in Spanish because of this and knows a bunch of insults (mainly because his mom used them on him)

He has a high spice tolerance but spicy stuff makes him burp and hiccup like crazy

He’s a quiet crier. Like he’ll just put his head down and you’ll hear teeny tiny gasps. He kinda trained himself to be quiet though

He loves ducklings. He’s rehabilitated a number of animals because he has genuine care for them but ducklings and birds were always his favorites

He’s on the ace spectrum (Demisexual)

He has the biggest brownest eyes imaginable and knows when to use the puppy eyes to get what he wants (even Dally can’t so no to those puppy eyes)

He often makes jokes absolutely degrading himself and the gang always sits him down for a “101 reasons why we love Johnny” session

He made a joke about offing himself one time. Did not end well. The gang panicked and wouldn’t let him be anywhere alone for months because they were so worried

Speaking of, he’s attempted a number of times but was obviously never successful

He always feels a lump in his throat when he sees anyone with s/h scars because it means they’re hurting in a similar way to him

His parents tried to institutionalize him once but the gang got there before anything could actually happen

His response she to fear tends to be snap back. It’s all he knows. So if he’s afraid or feels threatened he will snap and yell at you

He hates feeling like a pet. The soc girls at school would treat him like a quiet shy pet until he snapped back at them

He despises nearly every soc (before he met cherry and expanded his thought process)

He has a pine allergy and once Darry had a pine scented candle and he almost died (Darry felt awful because he didn’t know)

Whenever the gang roughhouses they go light on him and make a point to not insult him because they don’t want it to turn into something his parents would do

I kinda like to headcanon that he has vitiligo but on his arms and back and such but he’s really insecure about it so he hides it

He has pretty bad PTSD and his panic attacks are intense

He has told the gang to “shut the fuck up” when they got too loud

Coincidentally he despises johnnycakes (he melts when it’s used as a nickname for him tho)

He’s kinda big on pet names because he didn’t get that a lot as a kid from anyone besides Mrs. Curtis. But he also doesn’t like to feel babied

That’s all I have for now-really went on the angst train…woof-anyway-hope you enjoy!

[oliviablancmom]

"Pedriiii (special chapter)"

A/N: SURPRISE!!! Yesterday was Hande Ercel's birthday, and today is Pedri's birthday. I never realized they were so close in their birthdays, lol. Anyway, Isa and Axel missed you all, and I brought these special ones for you. P.S.: I know I owe you a chapter of Gavi and Florence, but they're very complicated, lol. They are in this chapter, and will be with you soon. Enjoy our favorite family.

"Do you think he will like it?" Axel asked for the teenth time. Rosi laughed at the little boy's anxiety and kissed his head.

"Of course he will, dear. You made it yourself," she said, finishing helping Axel decorate the cake he had decided to make for the player's birthday.

Isa watched the scene from a distance, feeling her heart warm with the interaction between her son and the older woman. Yes, the player's family had been completely welcoming to Axel and her from the very first day, but Isa still found it hard to believe, her heart warming, and her stomach aching to see her son receiving all that love.

"Uhh, it's so beautiful," Axel said proudly, resting his head on Rosi's shoulder. "Although, today he didn’t deserve such a beautiful cake..." Axel said, pouting and shrugging his shoulders to show indifference.

Fer laughed at the boy's attitude. Axel was mad at Pedri, something about the player's attention on another child during one of his classes, which led Axel to stop talking to him and make Fer his favorite Gonzalez. Axel also wanted to be the first to congratulate him on his birthday, but the recovery training session had caused the player to leave home while Axel was still sleeping, which made the little boy even more upset.

Sometimes Isa didn’t know how to deal with their relationship, they were so attached, and sometimes she felt like an intruder in the relationship, and that feeling grew every day.

"Aw, these jealousies, like mother like son..." Isa rolled her eyes at Fer’s comment, teasing her.

Axel looked at the clock on the wall, squinting his eyes impatiently and anxiously waiting for the player’s arrival.

"He’s taking too long, isn’t he, Mom?" Axel asked, walking up to Isa and stretching his arms out to her. Isa could see he was tired. It was already past lunchtime, and the player still hadn’t arrived. Isa understood because everything was more intense with the new coach, but Axel didn’t, especially when he was used to having the player wrapped around his finger.

"He will be here soon, baby," Isa said, kissing his head. Axel ran to the sofa and lay next to Nilo. It didn’t take long before he was distracted by whatever was on TV. Pedri sent a message saying he was on his way home. Isa thought about telling Axel, but when she looked over, Axel was already dozing off on the sofa. Isa pouted at the sight.

"Poor thing, he couldn’t handle it. Flick is tiring even the heirs of his players," Fer joked, and Isa’s heart raced. She looked at Fer, startled, but he just shrugged at her reaction.

"We ask Pedri to wait outside until Axel wakes up," said the player's father, making them all laugh. Axel had decided he wanted to throw a surprise party for the player, and that’s how it was going to be—they were doing everything the way he wanted.

Isa was finishing up the decorations in the living room when she heard the car in the garage. Before she could think about waking Axel, the little boy woke up, startled, looking around. His little face was scrunched up, indicating he had been sleeping. He squinted his eyes, looking around to orient himself, then widened his eyes.

"The cake!" he whispered. Rosi laughed and got up to grab the cake from the fridge. She carefully handed it to Axel, who stood by the door, just waiting for the player to open it. Isa could see how extremely anxious he was, and when the door opened, she could have sworn he was going to drop the cake. "SURPRISE!" he shouted excitedly, jumping up and down. Pedri’s mouth dropped open in a "O" of surprise, and he immediately bent down to pick Axel up in a hug. Isa bit her lip at the sight, her chest nearly bursting with love.

"Clean the drool," Fer whispered beside her, and she rolled her eyes. The two of them embraced as if they were the only ones in the room. Gavi, who had entered right behind the player, was the one who took the cake from Axel’s hands to make sure it wouldn’t fall. Florence walked up to him and hugged him. She also had a son who preferred her too.

"Don’t worry, you have me," Gavi said, kissing her cheek. Isa rolled her eyes and quickly hugged the girl who was right behind him.

"Not for long," she pouted at her friend while hugging her. Her father entered right after, and Isa understood why she survived a ride with Pedri. Despite the player not being the biggest fan of the girl because he was fierce about Gavi, he had to tolerate her because Isa’s father adored her—or perhaps just liked to tease her.

Pedri finally paid attention to Isa, with Axel still in his arms, and hugged her.

"See what I have to deal with, love?" he said dramatically.

"Be nice," Isa gave him a tap on the shoulder, and he rolled his eyes.

"Floflo," Axel jumped from Pedri’s lap into hers, and the offended look on Pedri’s face made everyone burst into laughter.

"You guys are so jealous," Fer said, hugging his brother.

Everyone was gathered in the backyard, around the fire pit, watching the rain fall. Axel was sitting on Pedri’s lap, catching up on his time with the player. Isa watched the scene, enchanted and grateful. She couldn’t be more happy with the family she had gained, with the love Axel received. Pedri looked at her, and they exchanged a loving gaze. He too was grateful for the family he was building. Sometimes he couldn’t believe it. He was living the best moment of his career, feeling fit, had the most beautiful woman in the world by his side, and on top of that, had the love of the most adorable child in the world. Life was good, and he was thankful for his little obsession at first sight with the woman, and for the bond he had built with the little boy, both of whom had genuinely stolen his heart. And when he blew out the candle on his birthday cake, all he wished for was more and more years with them.

**********************************************

I hope you guys like it, I didn't revise this chapter, so forgive me for any mistakes. Again, I promise I will be back soon with Gavi and Flo.

[ef-1]

dear kate, as someone who wasn't watching the sport back then I'm very curious about what happened in russia 2018 (re your tags on that post)?

it's lore. Daniel/Christian lore. horrible, awful, multifaceted human lore. when you watch a little thing, just an awful real moment and it reminds you that people are unfortunately complex and love is prideful, and sometimes love is selfish and love manifests differently in different people.

Russia 2018 was Max's birthday, Red Bull got a marching band and mimes to welcome Max into the paddock, it was a v elaborate and uncomfortable affair for everyone involved, and there was a cake cutting ceremony once Max walked the length of the paddock where the rest of the team were waiting for him.

Mind you, this was at the END of September, Daniel announced his departure from Red Bull at the very beginning of August, so it had already been almost 2 months of Christian calling Daniel stupid, and a girl, and that he took the easy way out but also Christians time during the sessions up until then was split equally in Daniel's garage and Max's but after that for a while it was the pitwall or Max's side.

Anyway back to Max's uncomfortable birthday, Daniel was also there but he didn't stand with Helmut and Christian at the front, he was uncharacteristically stood away from them, and away from the cameras. Daniel is usually front and centre during moments like these but I think it was a combination of how insanely uncomfortable the whole mime/marching band combo is and also the fact that he was no longer really 'part' of the team. Christian had already said Daniel will not be involved in the remaining development of the car effective immediately.

The official video that Red Bull posted(still up on yt) didn't really show it but Christian was the most uncomfortable/annoyed by the whole thing, more so than Max somehow lol

In the unofficial janky live stream of the whole thing however Christian kept turning back to Daniel who was behind everyone and it was very much an 'oh.' gut punch moment because it's just a real little human interaction of turning to someone you know/trust/relate to. And I just remember thinking that's like the first bit of normalcy we've seen from them since the torrid separation

Anyway really the most devastating part is from the janky live stream, one of the times Christian bodily turns to Daniel (twice) to catch his eye, Daniel kinda just laughs and tells him "you're not dancing" to which Christian replies by actually dancing for a second

this janky clip from a janky stream was a formative moment

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

ofmd s2e1 rewatch where i pause to jot down my thoughts and other random shit

not quite a reaction post bc i've already watched the whole thing. not quite a liveblog bc it's one post and it's probably gonna take me a full hour to get through a 28 minute episode at the rate of pausing and typing i'll be doing

s2e1, s2e2, s2e3, s2e4, s2e5, s2e6, s2e7, s2e8

anyway, pirate time:

i love how much fun con is having choking on his own blood

dream!stede's extremely teary face right before he takes off running down the beach is doing psychic damage to me

also dream!stede's stupid ridiculous outfit with all the long ribbons and shit...

ed and stede make contact so hard shjfkhsgjkfd the loud OUGH sounds from both of them

also the return of ed's old beard! i didnt expect to see her at all this season, so that was a surprise.

"babe" "love" im tearing out my own hair

stede has yet to learn that ripping ass near your beloved can be a love language

stede is a terrible fucking roommate just deal with wee john's gas in silence like the rest of them. goddamn.

WHO HAS THE OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH TRAMP STAMP. WHO IS THAT.

i like when the background OST is familiar to me lol the little strings when stede starts his letter throwing me back to s1

olu: that–that's the swede the swede: Im the swede roach: he's single ;) me: *pissing my pants with laughter*

also the direct confirmation that the swede literally doesn't have a name. incredible

shjkfhdhfkj the crew encouraging him. stede's "it's okay" and roach "be brave" im CRYINGGGGG

stede doing customer service is something that can be so personal. "reservation?" "eat my fuckin' shit" "right! walk-ins, then" average restaurant experience

the random background guy saying "my favorite hand!" abt getting stabbed in the hand is making me giggle. i love the humor on this show

why does stede have so much shoulder movement going on when he's walking through the bar. whore behavior.

"this is for mom!" sorry but i want to know more abt whatever's going on there

also the purple mohawk. dope.

buttons is so distressed LET HIM RETURN TO THE SEA THESE CONDITIONS ARE INHUMANE

"i know the odds of you finding this are slim but so were the odds of us finding each other in the first place" IM RIPPING OFF MY OWN SKIN

also stede's lil sad hopeful smile after throwing the bottle... i care him

i love how they make this wedding fucking suck so we don't feel too bad abt the whole massacre thing. "the natural condition of humanity is base and vile. it is the obligation of people of standing, such as yourselves, to elevate the common human rabble through the sacred transaction of matrimony" if i was at a wedding and the officiant said that i'd also start killing people probably

yayy murder montage :)

FANG BREAKING THAT GUY'S SPINE OVER HIS KNEE

the whole cake scene is so fucking funny im sorry. i love u jim drawing the line at attacking a shitty wedding. i love u archie who wasn't here for the good old days so you dont really see a problem with how things are. i love u frenchie with ur box in ur brain that u never open again. i love u fang it's gonna get better i swear. i love u frenchie again bc u just took the cake right out of fang's hands while he was fucking sobbing hfjhgkjhdkjkf

I MISS IVAN JUSTICE FOR IVAN. wish they could've said he'd just fucked off somewhere instead of dying but i think that would've raised the question of why hasn't anyone else fucked off since they all seem so miserable

very relieved that stede isn't taking the racist/antisemitic caricature drawings of ed to make like a boyfriend scrapbook like some people were theorizing. would've been overkill if after episode 4 from last season stede still didn't realize that ed hated these sorts of depictions of him.

INTERESTING DETAIL THO the background music in this scene is "a pirate's life" aka the song frenchie sang in the pilot. it's an instrumental version obviously but yeah i recognize that tune

also more cool background ppl with dyed hair man i love this show

zheng yi sao flirting with olu is so good. he deserves it.

how nice of ed to offer his drugs to the crew. sharing is caring.

also it's so funny to me that the thing izzy is tormented by is ed saying "you can't do the job, someone else will" the toe thing's happened three times and apparently that was fine but the thing the show edits together right before izzy breaks down into the most pathetic aheemheem whimpers isn't any of that it's ed threatening to fire him

also they cut ed throwing knives at izzy!! what the hell.

releasing the clip of izzy crying kinda ruined it for me when it came time to watch it in the show bc i watched it several times since it dropped and now seeing it in context i was like "ok i've seen this already fast forward." i mean i didnt fast forward through it but i did kinda zone out bc i've seen this bit already. this post kinda sums up my thoughts on it

"trifling ingrate plan" dshkjfshgdskhfjkhgkjh

"SEMI-CLEAN WATER"

JACKIE CALLING THE SWEDE "BOO CAKES"

"i know that guy we had breakfast together!" "you'll be having a lot of breakfasts-es together" "oh, okay" i fucking love this whole dynamic like i can tell they're writing the swede out of most of the episodes for budget reasons (sorry nat faxon) but by god do they give him such an excellent fucking send-off. can't wait to see him again when he's in his trophy husband number 20 era

roach is upset abt not being able to cook, buttons is tied up so he doesn't go running back to the sea (i assume). stede you are not giving your crew the environment they need to thrive.

olu being an optimist :)

buttons opens his mouth to drink the rain and in the background u can see roach yanking the rope around buttons back fhdjskgfjhgkjfh STEDE YOUR SEA WITCH CANNOT THRIVE IN THESE CONDITIONS

stede tries to make things sound good in his bottle letters to ed but out loud he says his actual insecurities... it's so fucking tasty tho that he thinks ed could be doing better without him and THAT'S why he's been stalling so much. not afraid for his life even a little bit he just assumes he's not wanted. brb i have to cry now

"im sorry if that's a little bit creepy" "you are creepy" in this scene where they're soaked from the rain. ofmd said this prince ricky guys is creepy and wet.

stede's fucking FACE when prince ricky says "you're my hero" his fucking "clearly you dont own an air fryer" face I CANT STAND HIMMMMMM (affectionate)

prince ricky "these rubes" "men of our standing" yeah i cant fucking stand this guy (derogatory) i love how he's barely even in this episode

stede's face when the swede is talking abt how happy he is with jackie... my man believes in love so much im gonna cry

also in what fucking way does the swede owe them a life debt. roach and buttons literally tried to eat him

izzy's "you know me better than anyone knows me and i daresay the same about you" this is literally so false i dont even know where to begin. izzy in e6 being like "if i didnt know any better i'd think maybe ed might possibly maybe be actually enjoying bonnet's company" while ed and stede are giggling and making each other friendship bracelets. this guy doesn't know ed at all.

also i cant get over how izzy wont make eye contact he's like staring blankly into the middle distance delivering these lines so flatly until he goes to say "i have... love for you" and in that moment he looks like he'd rather ed were feeding him more toes.

"im worried about you, we all are" not gonna lie my dude you've had a weird way of showing it thus far. where was all that worry when you told him he was better off dead than wearing a robe and singing songs?? where was that fucking love then?

and NOW izzy wants to talk it through. izzy literally voted to make blackbeard great again and now he wants to give open communication a chance???

lmao there's a limit to how many characters can be in a bulleted list so here's fucking. part two. on the same post:

ed asking everyone if the vibe is poisonous and fang cant stop crying and ed's face is just like "eh good enough" im fdhksgfkjtdkh

anyway ed with a loaded gun under his chin talking to himself is hurting me so fucking much actually. ed my beloved babygirl for whom i would die. this poor traumatized man. yes he is making this workplace toxic as hell but god. GOD. im gonna throw up.

the way ed is so fucking casual about shooting izzy in the leg. just calm and jovial as he promotes frenchie to first mate. stepping over izzy all crumpled on the floor. everything about this is so fucking good. i mean it's horrible for ed and everyone around him but for me watching the show this shit is DELICIOUS. i love when the pirates get violent and unhinged i love when this shit gets fucked up. ed's mental state is so bad right now and it is causing me severe anguish but also it is so tasty. fuck.

anyway frenchie trying to turn down the promotion fhjkghdfjkhf

the cut to the swede performing the husbandly duties is INSANE. COMPLETE TONAL WHIPLASH. I LOVE THIS SHOW.

"fuck those hammies up!" spanish jackie i love you

black pete why are you so fucking loud AND WHY WOULD YOU JIX IT LIKE THAT???

why is prince ricky so small. he's like a full head shorter than stede. also this guy is insufferable i love how stede just fucking abandons him fhjkgdhkdfghkj

"the calf muscle is the most mysterious of alllll the muscles" what the FUCK does that even mean. oh swede i will miss you

NOSE REMOVAL FUCK YES. I LOVE THIS SHOW.

obsessed with the swede playing dumb. the dramatic gasp. "wow, so bad!" fhjsghdkjf

"aint you that soup bitch?" "im the money bitch" i love women.

sfdsjkh spanish jackie being into double-crossing. and slapping the swede's ass on the way out. i love this show

i love how zheng says "this much indigo is worth three times what i paid" while spanish jackie and the husbands are still like, right there. and they just don't hear that bit. incredible.

OUGH the back of jim's weird rope armor looks like a ribcage that's so cool

i love how jim is so fucking bad at telling this story. i love how the monkey's paw comes into it. i love fang asking them to do the voice. i love archie trying to hold back her laughter i love jim and fang giggling together I LOVE THIS SHOW

ed's fucking voice breaking through his whole convo with frenchie. im tearing out my own teeth

HEY DID YOU GUYS KNOW THEY HAVE POST-CREDITS SCENES IN THIS SEASON?????????? WHAT THE HELL

i take back what i said about jim being bad at telling this story their version is so much fucking better. squeaky voice "I pray to you, Dark Lord, to make me real flesh! I want to be real flesh!" IM FUCKING OBSESSED. JIM I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

WC ::: 5,200

A/N ::: I have it bad for Bakugo right now. I pretty much worked on this all damn day. Which will explain any errors you may find. I read and reread on Google Docs but it's almost 11pm and my tired eyes can take no more. It if's horrific, please tell me so I can fix it. I hate a misspelled word. Grammatical is fine. Love grammatical errors. I do them on purpose. Now I'm rambling and need to go to bed. Enjoy! Thank you for having Baku-Flu with me.

C/W ::: Too tired to elaborate. I'll fix it tomorrow. But MINORS, LOOK DOWN AND WALK AWAY. DOWN ... AWAY. Aged up Bakugo, Sorta slow burn, playful banter, alcohol use (not much), oral {M->F}, sex, quippy conversation. The End. Like I said, I'll fix this tomorrow, objectifying Bakugo? Admiring his ass. Idk. Leave me alone.

Hard to Get

It wasn't long after you turned on the tv that your mind started to wander. You were thinking about your best friend's birthday party you just got home from. You were thinking about Bakugo who was there, looking so delicious. 

His neck muscles turned and twitched whenever he moved his head or swallowed something. His lips curled into a sick and tight smirk whenever he looked at you. Your stomach would drop to your pussy and it made you feel sick in the best way.

The show you were watching was of little interest. Your hands had been resting on your spread legs as you lay on the couch, rubbing your inner thighs in slow, soft circles. Unaware of just how much you were turning yourself on while mindlessly daydreaming of him. Of Bakugo, being the one who's resting between your knees, touching you so sweetly. Wishing he was the one edging you closer and closer to your release.

The clock on your mantel chimed, signaling the end of this day and the start of a new one. You had no reason to stay up so you decided to call it and go to bed. You brush your teeth. Wash your face (with cold water - one last attempt at cooling yourself off) and climb into bed.

It was an hour before you even felt tired and it pissed you off that you laid there tossing and turning for so long. Still horny. Still too stubborn to give in and bring yourself some relief. You didn't want to touch yourself. You wanted Bakugo to do it. And since he wasn't here, you were going to throw a little hissy fit that only you would know about. Whatever.

You were just nodding off in your soft blankets and warm bed when your phone lit up and a pretty little chime resonated through your dark room.

"Hey." Is all it said. You didn't recognize the number, not even a little bit. So you texted back that they have the wrong number. No one you know generally texts this late at night anyway. Putting the phone down on your nightstand you rolled over and squished yourself back down into the mattress.

"No, I don't have the wrong number. I got this from {friend's name}, y/n =)."

"Ok, so all that tells me is you're a creepy asshole who harassed my best friend and got my cell number from them. Lose it. Permanently."

"Tsktsktsk. That's no way to talk to the guy who you were making fuck me eyes at over the birthday cake. Now is it, sweetheart?"

You laughed, "{Males name}, I'm so relieved to hear from you! I thought since you were there with your wife and kids you wouldn't notice me making fuck me eyes at you. When can I see you again? WITHOUT the fam, ok? They were a real drag."

"The FUCK! You calling me a creepy asshole is real rich. It's Bakugo, dumbass."

"Who?" This was too fun.

"Oh my God, you're so annoying, y/n. Bye. YOU lose MY number PERMANENTLY!"

"Bakugo, waitttt wait wait! I'm fucking with you lol! Jesus. You're so serious all the time! What're you doing up so late? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"I don't have a bedtime, little girl. I make my own rules, baby."

"Who you calling a little girl? I'll have you know I no longer piss the bed. Well, unintentionally, anyway."

"YOU'RE FUCKING SICK!"

"You love it. There's no shame when it comes to sex. The dirtier the better, I say."

"..."

"Pussy got your tongue?"

"What?"

You huffed, "Pussy (Cat) got your tongue?"

"..."

Minutes passed before he said anything so you texted him again. "You typing with one hand? You know, some phones have a one-handed setting. It might be helpful for when you're ... well, using one hand for typing and one hand for something else. Just FYI. Anyway, if you're done, I'm going to try and get some sleep. I have stuff I gotta do tomorrow."

"..."

And that was the end of that conversation with Bakugo.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You woke up just the way you went to sleep: Horny. But you overslept and had some things to take care of before you could even think about doing that. Your shower was quick and way less hot than usual. The clothes you put on were loose-fitting and casual. This is what Saturday's were made for. Being comfortable, getting shit done and then spending the day lounging around.

There was one parking spot left at the post office and you were about to take it when some fucker on a motorcycle swooped in and stole it right out from underneath your tires.

"What the fuck, asshole!" You got out of your car and yelled at the person with the black, stickered helmet sitting on their shoulders. "I was going to park there, kindly move your fucking bike? Jesus."

The person came over to you and stood unnervingly close. So close to you that you had to back up against your car. "Um, personal space, dick." You pushed them away, your fingers dug into their hard chest muscles. You had to admit, with how much you've wanted to fuck lately, they felt so good. But that didn't change the fact they were a total piece of shit for taking this so far.

"You don't recognize me, little girl?"

"Little girl??" Where have you heard that recently. You narrowed your eyes and said, "{Males name}? Is that you hiding your asshole face behind the helmet?"

The man laughed and pulled his helmet off. "Yeah, yeah. It's me, {Males name}. You're a fucking idiot." He chuckled again and leaned in to hug you.

"Heyyy, Bakugo." You said in a quiet little voice. You wrapped your arms around his neck and backed yourself up the rest of the way against your car, pulling him with you. "You ..." you exhaled in his ear, "are so ..." pushing your tits into his pecs, "fucking ... mmmuch of an asshole." Pushing him away you pointed at the spot he took before you even had a chance to turn your blinker on. "I - why do you even need a whole spot? You can just leave that dumb thing on the sidewalk!"

"DON'T!" He grabbed you by the cheeks, squishing them together, causing your lips to squish out. His sudden movement and his hands so rough on you made you weak in the knees. "Don't talk about her like that. Ok?" He looked at his motorcycle and back at you.

You put your hands up, surrendering yourself to his tantrum. "S-sorry. Shit, sorry, ok?" He let go of your face and took a couple of steps back. "What did you need to do here? I can do it for you." He offered.

"I just have to ship this package and drop this in the outbox. I think I can handle it." You started to get back into your car.

"I'm sorry. Fuck. I didn't mean to ---" you shook your head at him, silently asking him to not bother with the apology.

"I get it. And you know what? Here." You tossed the small package to him and dug a $10 out of your pocket and gave that to him as well. "Thanks, parking spot stealer. Catch ya on the flipside."

He moved out of the way as you drove off without so much as a smile, a wave or even a resentful glare. 

But he waved at you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The next time you saw Bakugo was at the coffee shop with your friend's boyfriend. You walked in and saw him with his stupid pointy blond hair and that stupid grimace on his stupid ... hot face.

You pretended to not see him even though you noticed him as soon as you walked up to the large window front.

The door chimed, signaling the entrance of a new patron. For some reason, all eyes went to you. Like you were the millionth customer or something.

Still, you kept your eyes on the floor and made your way straight to the order counter.

The cashier took your order and you were about to hand them the $9 for your fancy coffee when Bakugo swooped in and pushed your hand down so he could pay for you.

"Hey, y/n. Uh, lemme get this for ya? Let me make it up for the other day, yeah?" He tried to smile but it didn't really come across as much of a smile. More like a dominant show of teeth.

"Oh, you're ... you're here, too. I can pay for this, thanks tho---" You did your best to convince him to fuck off. But he wouldn't have any of it.

"Goddamn it, don't be an asshole. Let me buy you a coffee. C-consider this will be like a first step in our dating life, hm?" Fuck, he was hot. And he had at least one friend. Even if that friend was your best friend's boyfriend.

"Jesus, Bakugo. Fine! Fine. Pay for the damn coffee. Thanks. Thank you. Ok? You happy? I owe you now." You stepped back so he could pay. He put his hand on the curve of your waist as he moved passed you. It was fairly obvious what kind of effect it had on you. Your face turned a sweet shade of pink, your eyes blew out until they were almost all pupils. You just hoped he wouldn't see.

"You ok, y/n? You look like you're going to barf." He said.

"I'm not going to barf, you idiot. I just," you looked down the front of his body and left your eyes on his inseam.

"Y/n? you just ...?" He lifted your chin with his index finger, bent down a little and tilted his head to look into your eyes before your face was completely up.

"Huh? Wha-? Oh! I just need coffee. Just ... coffee. Can I get that to go, please? I gotta, I gotta go." You grabbed the coffee and stormed out.

"Hey! Y/n, whe- wait!" Bakugo called after you but you didn't stop. "The fuck. The actual fuck." He said to his friend.

They shrugged. "I've always thought she was a little odd." He laughed.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You called up your friend who gave him your cell number. Immediately going into your yelled speech as soon as they answered their phone.

"WHAT is wrong with you? You know, since you gave that dumbass my phone number he's been texting me and turning up everywhere I go! Did you give him my calendar too? 'Cuz I swear to fucking god, he was at the post office the other day. He stole my fucking parking spot. And then he was at the coffee shop just now. I swear to god he's everywhere now, {best friend's name}!! What have you done?"

"Who is this?" She laughed.

"Fuck, really?!" You yelled at her again. "I'm serious. He's everywhere. He's ... he's ..." You couldn't finish your thought.

"Hot as shit? You want his cock? You want his lips all over your body? You want his babiessss!? Oh my god! You want his babies!" She was in hysterics at the thought.

"You're the devil. You're really ... straight from hell. And I love you. But he's popping up in the places I frequent that I've never seen him at before."

There was silence on her end, until you heard voices in the background.

"Is {boyfriend's name} home?" You waited for her to answer you, hearing a third voice in the room. "Is Bakugo there? Jesus Christ. He's stealing you from me. I gotta go. I'll talk to you later." Enough was enough. Though you didn't know how friendly he had been with them in the past, you do know that Bakugo was becoming more and more a part of your life and the lives of your close friends.

Your cell rang. It was a number that you hadn't saved, but you suspected it was your new stalker.

"Hello, Bakugo?"

"Hi, pissy pants. Come over." You didn't love the nickname.

"Come over where? And no. I don't want to." You couldn't help but smile. You were really enjoying the attention he was giving you. Despite your best efforts to hate him, he was wearing you down.

"Come to your girlfriend's house. We're having an impromptu game night. Bring some shit to drink. See you in 30. And don't shower. You smell great as it is. See ya, sweetheart." And he hung up. Not even giving you a change to protest his garbage invitation to someone else's house.

"Don't shower? That's ... huh." You grabbed your keys and wallet and drove to the store to buy some shit to drink, as per his instruction.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You parked in your friend's driveway, essentially blocking Bakugo's motorcycle in between your car and their garage. You laughed at how pissed it would probably make him. A silent victory. 

A petty victory.

Walking in the front door, you saw Bakugo sitting on the couch. His legs spread, hands resting on his thighs. Just daring you to look at him. Anywhere.

"What's going on tonight?" You asked. "Asshat over here called me and told me to bring shit to drink and that it was an impromptu game night? Well, I'm here and I have the shit." Raising the bottles in your hand you showed them off to the 3 other people there.

They all cheered and came to you. Your friend and her boyfriend took the bottles and Bakugo gave you a hug. A lingering hug.

"Hi, pissy pants," he smiled devilishly at you and pressed his hips into yours and his nose into your neck.

It sends a pulse throughout your whole body. You slipped and your breath got caught in your throat. You hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Excited to see me, too? Good. I can't stop thinking about you." He said against your ear.

"I, uh ... yeah. What's up?" You patted him on the back and pushed him away, taking a deep breath when you were finally free of his grasp. "Who's ready for game night? Let's go!"

The next hour or so went by in a haze. The group of you laughing and drinking and playing some board game that was on the coffee table. You won a lot. Bakugo kept losing and it made you smile. He was a terrible loser to his core. There was no in between. At one point, he almost flipped the coffee table over. 

You were starting to get drunk. You knew it because that display of raw agitation at something so stupid made your stomach knot up. His shit coping was turning you on.

"I'll be right back." You stood and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. You walked in and turned the light on and shut the door behind you. You tried to shut it behind you but there was a foot in the way. "Jesus. Bakugo, what the fuck." You laughed.

He pushed his way in and locked the door behind him. "We're … talking."

"Now?" You asked. "I was just about to pee. You can wait." You started to walk back toward the door but he grabbed your waist and pushed you back against the sink.

"We're talking, y/n. So fucking listen."

"Ok, I'm listening. What do you want to talk about?" You smiled up at him, your lips slightly parted and your eyes set on his.

"You." He said. "You're driving me fucking insane, ya fuckin' brat. You're always walking around with those pretty tits and that fat ass, making me lose my goddamn mind. I can't stop thinking about you. Your lips, your pussy ... Fuck. I wanna taste you." His hands were all over you. Raking up and down your back, over your ass and thighs.

"Mmm, you think I have a fat ass?" You whispered. He nodded. "You're so silly, Bakugo. You think you can just say those things to me and I'll let you have me? You really think that?"

He nodded again. "I'm going to have you. And you're … gonna let me. That's how this is gonna go."

"Is it?" You laughed. "What if I say no?"

"Then I'm going to fuck you anyway. You want me to. I know it. I like games too, sometimes. I can play any ... little thing … you want. But, I'm just going to take what I want, y/n. And you're going to be begging me to keep going." He grabbed your tits and squeezed them until you moaned.

"I bet you'd love that." You exhaled.

"Fuck, I bet you would too." He pulled you in for a kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you could feel your body getting hot. Your reaction to him was just about the most primal thing you'd ever experienced. You two were drawn to each other like magnets.

"Mmm ... mm-mm." You pushed him back and put your fingers to your lips. "What are we doing, Bakugo? This ... I don't know what you think this is ... but ... I just." You shook your head. "I need to pee. So ... shoo! Go on."

"You're so full of shit. Just admit you want me as much as I want you." He licked his lips and turned around, unlocking the door and walking out. "See you in a minute." He winked at you.

You locked the door behind him and went to the toilet. You looked at yourself in the mirror. "This can't be real. This can't be fucking real." You sat down and tried to compose yourself.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The next time you saw Bakugo was at the grocery store. You were getting some groceries for the week when you heard someone behind you clearing their throat.

It was him.

"Hi, pissy pants. Fancy seeing you here, of all places."

"Ohh-kayy. You don't even fucking live in this neighborhood! What the hell are you doing over here? Seriously, Bakugo." You looked around to make sure there were people who could hear you. "I don't love you! You need to stop following me, I WILL call the police, you freak!" You couldn't stay composed any longer and started to laugh.

"Oh, ha-ha. God you're an asshole." He eventually laughed, too. "Seriously, though. You won't text me back. Why?"

You shrugged, "I dunno. You're weird."

"What do you mean by that, y/n?"

"You're ... just ... I don't know." You shook your head. "I need to get back to my shopping."

He nodded. "Yeah, I get it. I'm not what you thought I'd be. Not really. But I'm not all bad, either, y/n."

"Hmm, I don't know. I think you're ... well, maybe I've misjudged you. It's not like I really know you. But, I don't know. I'm sorry for saying you're weird. You're not weird, necessarily. I don't know." You looked at him, curious about what he'd say next.

"It's ok. I'm used to people thinking I'm an asshole. It's just ... I like you. I wanna ... I don't know." He leaned over his cart and put his chin in the palms of his hands.

"Go out with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask, y/n! This is, oh my gosh. This is all so sudden! Yes! Yes, of course I'll go out with you!" He smirked. "Let me know when, y/n. See ya later, sweetheart." He took off in the opposite direction, knowing full well you were staring at his ass.

You bit your lip and watched him walk away. "Yup, still hot. Fuck."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

It was the night of your friend's boyfriend's birthday party. Bakugo had been texting you for days, trying to figure out where you'd be and what you'd be doing. You told him you'd be there. So there you were. In a pretty red dress that hugged your curves. And matched his eyes.

"Well, hello." He said as you walked up to him. "Wow, you look so fucking sexy. I love this. I love this dress. I love ... it." He was trying to contain himself.

"Oh, this old thing?" You giggled and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him onto the dance floor. "Dance with me, Bakugo!"

"I'm not really much of a dancer."

"That's disappointing. They say that men who dance are 10x's more likely to make a woman climax in bed. Or on the couch. Or the shower. Anywhere. Guess I'll dance by myself." You shrugged and laughed at your bullshit fact and the effect it had on his face.

"Oh my God, you're going to be the death of me, y/n. Come on." He put his arm around your waist and you two danced for the rest of the night.

A slow song came on and he pulled you to him. He tucked your hand against his chest and he held you close by the small of your back with his right hand. “You having fun, y/n?” He asked, looking down the front of your dress.

“Not as much fun as you, apparently. I can feel that, by the way.” You smirked, gesturing down between the two of you with your eyes. “But yeah, I am, actually. Thank you for dancing with me. You’re surprisingly not that shit at it.” 

Bakugo lay his head down on your shoulder and softly kissed your neck. "Let's get out of here." He said, his lips touching your ear as he raised his head and whispered to you. "Let's go back to your place."

You nodded. "Yes. NOW." You grabbed his hand and walked out.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Once you got to your place, you ran upstairs and put on some music. Your favorite song came on and you danced around your room for a minute before Bakugo walked in, looking at you with the most heavy, lustful eyes you've ever seen.

He slowly walked over to you and put his hands on your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. It was sweet and soft. "Y/n. How hot you are."

You shook your head, "Me? Bakugo, you are ... you are ... so fucking hot. You make me feel so ... I don't know. Like ... like I have no control over myself. You just ... you do this thing to me. It's like my whole body catches fire and then melts and I just want to ... fuck, I want to fuck you."

"I think I can make that happen." He looked at you, waiting for you to make the next move.

You pulled him over to your bed and pushed him down on it. "I'm in charge. Got it? I'm in charge." You climbed on top of him, your hands pushing his shoulders back as you straddled his waist.

"No, no you're not. But nice try." He flipped you over and held your wrists above your head. "You're mine, y/n. You're all fucking mine. I'm going to make you feel good. I'm gonna make you cum so hard, you'll be screaming my name for days because you’ll be too damn stupid to remember anything else." He smiled and kissed your neck, his hand moving down your body to your panties.

You gasped and bucked your hips up, "Fuck, Bakugo. That feels so good." Your fingers were in his hair, pulling it at the roots.

He pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers inside your pussy. "Jesus. You're so fucking wet, y/n. Is this for me? This wet pussy is for me? Fuck." He pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb rubbing your clit in slow, tight circles.

Your back arched off the bed, "God, yes, Bakugo. Fuck! Oh my fucking god, th- ... Don't … Please don't fucking stop!" You screamed.

"You gonna cum for me, baby? Huh? You gonna cum all over my fingers? I know you are. But not yet." He pulled his fingers from you, licked them clean and kissed your lips.

You grabbed his face and kissed him back, tasting yourself on his tongue. "Bakugo, I want ... lemme suck your cock."

"Hohhh fuck." He moaned. "You will, sweetheart. You will. But not right now. Right now ..." he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down around his knees. His cock was hard and throbbing.

"Oh, fuck, Bakugo." Your eyes were wide with wonder as you sat up on your elbows on the bed. The dress pooled around your waist and your panties sat haphazardly covering your cunt. None of that mattered. All you could see right now was his huge cock.

And it saw you, too.

"It's yours, y/n. It's all fucking yours. So fucking take it, you little brat." He pushed your legs apart and rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit. "Is this what you want? Huh? This big fucking cock inside of your little pussy? Is it?"

"Oh my god, Bakugo! I do, so bad." You whimpered.

"I know you do. That's why I'm going to give it to you." He pushed himself inside of you, slowly stretching you out until you were begging for more.

"More, Bakugo. Give me more. Fuck, fuck me! Oh my god!" You pulled him down on top of you, your hands clawing at his back.

"Fuck, y/n. You're so fucking tight, baby. You're so fucking wet and tight. God, this pussy is perfect. I'm going to fuck you every day, you got that?" He started to thrust faster, his hips slamming into yours with each stroke.

Your back arched up off the bed as he fucked you. You were on the edge, your orgasm building with every move he made. "Oh? Gettin' close? I guess all that dancing really paid off. I should slow the fuck down. Wouldn't want you cumming too fast now. Nnnope." He slowed to a barely discernible drag. Your eyes nearly went full white as they twisted to the back of your head.

"Ba-ku-go ... ple--- ... ya, please. You have ... to ... mmmm … oh my god." You whined as he looked at your contorting face.

"I know, baby. I know. I got you. I'll give you what you want, sweetheart. You're going to cum for me, ok?" He kissed your neck and started to speed up again, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper.

"Yes! Oh my god, don’t … don’t … hoh fuck!" You were on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall off at any moment.

He grabbed your tits, squeezing them and rolling your nipples between his fingers. "Fuck! You're so fucking sexy. I wanna taste those tits, baby." He bent down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as he kept fucking you.

Your hands were in his hair again, pulling and tugging as he fucked you harder and harder. Your body started to shake and your breath caught in your throat.

"I'm going to … cum, Bakugo! Fuck! Pleasepleaseplease!" You screamed as you came hard around his cock. "Oh my god! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Bakugo!"

You rode out the twitching and shaking of your body as he continued to fuck you. Dragging out more moans from you than anyone had ever bothered to do before.

His slow pace came to an even more painful stop. He kissed your neck until you were writhing below him. Begging him to do something.

Anything.

Bakugo slid back until just his tip was inside of you. He looked down at where he disappeared into your body and pulled out the rest of the way. His eyes darted back up to yours and he watched you all the way until his lips were encircling your clit.

"Oh my god!" You cried out as he sucked and licked your clit, his tongue pushing in and out of your pussy. "Fuck! Bakugo!" You grabbed his hair and pulled it, the pain making him moan against you. He licked and sucked on you so sloppily that the room was filled with the sounds of wet lapping. It was loud and erotic and almost too much. But it was just enough. You were so close to cumming again that it hurt. Your body was tight. The wire bound within you was ready to snap if he hit you just right once more.

"Cum on my tongue, y/n. Cum for me, baby. Fuck, you taste so good." He said as he pushed two fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out of you.

Your back arched and your toes curled as you came again. Your legs shaking and your hands gripping the sheets. Your hips bucked up against his face as he sucked and licked you through your orgasm.

Bakugo sat back on his knees, his cock still hard and glistening with your juices. He slowly pumped his cock as he looked down at you. "You're so fucking filthy. I could watch you cum for me all day long." He grabbed your legs and pulled you down to him so that your ass was right at the edge of the bed.

He pushed his cock into you again, this time with a sense of urgency and a need to cum himself. He fucked you hard and deep, his hips slamming into yours with every thrust. He was so close to cumming that you could see it in his face.

"Your - mngh - your face looks stupid when you're about to cum. Y'know that?" You tried to laugh but all you could do was moan at how good his cock filled you. How good it felt as it dragged inside of you.

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he fucked you harder. "Oh god, y/n. You feel so fucking good. I'm going to cum in you, ok?" He moaned as he fucked you.

"Yes! Fucking cum in me ... hmm ..." You moaned as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of you. "Fill me up, Bakugo. Fuck!" You screamed as you came again, your body shaking and your pussy tightening around him.

Bakugo pumped his hips a few more times before he came inside of you, his cum filling you up and spilling out onto the bed. "Oh, fuck! Y/n! Fuck!" He moaned as he kept fucking you through his orgasm.

He eventually stopped, his cock still inside of you as he collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck. "Oh my god, y/n. That was ... that was so fucking good." He kissed your neck and chest before he rolled over and lay next to you on the bed.

"And to think, what I said about men who dance was total bullshit."

"I knew it! I knew you were lying about that." Bakugo laughed. "You're a little shit, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know. But I got you to dance with me, though." You smiled.

"You did." He smiled back. "But you're the one in bed with me."

You looked over at him and he was flipping you off with both hands.

"Fuck you." He laughed.

Taglist ::: @millennialmagicalgirl @callm3senpaii @darkstarlight82 (just in case it decides to work, idk! If not I'll send it to you, too.)

[whatthefishh]

firstly, happy early birthday 💖💖💖

secondly, if you are inspired to write it, I feel like “I’d rather eat you than cake.” is definitely something Santiago Garcia would say 😂 (smut, maybe. though, you probably could turn it into fluff if you really wanted to 🤔 lol either is fine by me tbh)

Hello! If you guys don't mind, I combined your requests hehe @dameronscopilot @kittyofalltrades

Santi + cake + spit NSFW under the cut. 1k words.

Birthday series part 5.

Only Came for the Cake

You moan into his mouth as he fights for dominance, tongue dancing with yours as his hands pull your hips closer to the edge of the counter he had you caged in against. You were at Santiago’s home, ‘helping’ set up for his birthday that evening, but it was really just an excuse for some alone time with the birthday boy himself before the boys came for the party.

Just as expected, you could barely keep your hands off each other the second you walked in the door, setting your shopping down in the kitchen before turning around just in time for Santi to cage you in against the island, his hands on your hips and lips mouthing at your neck. He was quick to lift you on the counter, your kisses becoming heated as he slipped his tongue to lick into your mouth, pulling a groan from the both of you.

Your hands were in his hair as he kissed his way down your jaw to mouth at the soft spot on your neck, sucking a mark there. Pulling him back up to your lips, you gently nipped at his bottom lip, mumbling between kisses, “We don’t have much time.”

“Don’t need that much time,” he grunted before dropping his hands to tug your bottoms off, peeling your panties down with them. When Santi went down on you, he liked to give it his all, not unlike other things in life. He took a lot of pride in his skills and if anyone asked, you’d be the first to attest to them. The man could make you see stars with his mouth alone and he was a smug bastard about it, too. Thus, you were never one to say no to an opportunity for Santiago to use his mouth other than to sass you.

Which brings you to now, his mouth a hair away from yours before he swiped his arm across the counter with the intention of laying you down like a meal, only to jerk you back to the present by the sound of a box splattering to the floor.

“Santi! Your cake!!” you gasped, wide eyes turning to look at him in shock. Panic was about to set in, the boys were meant to be here in under an hour.

“I don’t care. I’d rather eat you than cake,” he growled before pushing you to lay back on the island anyway.

His breath was hot on your cunt before he lifted your leg to rest on his strong shoulder, staring at your folds like it held a goddamn prize beyond its depths. Your whimper brought his eyes back to yours for just a second before he lowered his head, immediately latching on to your clit with his lips and sucking.

“You’re impossible,” you manage to get out, offering a delayed response. Your brain went white for a second, you can’t be blamed for it, alright?

He lifted his head just enough for his mouth to be grazing your outer lips as he asked, “do you want me to stop?”

The vibrations of his voice teasing you, making you moan in response, “don’t you dare.”

He dove right back in, lapping at your now soaked folds before thrusting his tongue deep and spreading your slick with it. He was buried between your legs so deep his nose was gently nudging your clit on every movement, the motion driving you absolutely wild.

“Please, don’t stop, f-fuck, Santi-” you broke off when he pulled away from you again, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers, slowly stroking inside your core.

“Wasn’t gonna. Just wanted to hear you beg. So beg, pretty baby.”

He was still pumping his fingers ever so slowly into you, having no difficulty with it, your pussy squelching with each pass. You were ridiculously wet for him at this point, his mouth leaving behind some extra lubrication. Santi kissed your thigh, leg still hanging haphazardly on his shoulder despite his movements, lips mouthing at the skin.

“God, please don’t stop. Fuck, please, Santiiiii,” you whine as he continues to torment you, not changing his pace. He was a relentless tease, regularly making you beg for his mouth or his cock.

“Y’know, I don’t think you’re wet enough,” he says conspiratorially, narrowing his eyes at you then at your cunt, as if it could speak. Well. It was saying something, for sure.

You’re more than wet enough, you don’t know what he’s playing at. His other hand comes up from the counter to pull back the hood of your clit, exposing it to the cool air. Santiago grins at you before lining up his head to spit directly on your clit.

“That’s better, dontcha think?”

You clench around his fingers, causing him to laugh at your whine before rubbing your nub slowly with his thumb. Your breaths were coming out shallow, muscles tensing even at his leisurely pace, so wound up you could probably come like this. Your moans were coming out a little more breathy, a little more whiny and a lot more desperate, and Santiago could tell.

You love him, you love him, youlovehimyoulove-

The doorbell rang. The boys were early. Fuck Will and his penchant for being extra punctual.

Quickly shoving the hand not inside you over your mouth, he pulled his other hand out, effectively muffling your angry cry. Santiago pulled you up to sit, kissing you when he removed his hand to whisper praise on your lips about how much of a good girl you were for him while you whimpered at him for edging you. He promised to make it up to you later that evening if you behaved, knowing you’d be squirming all night from how wet you were, his spit obviously not making matters easier. After helping you right your clothes, you lowered yourself off the counter, trying to collect yourself after being denied your orgasm.

“Can you get the door, baby? My hands are kinda busy,” he smirked from the fridge door, fingers in his mouth.

You love him, right?

[xxkr1sz]

Day 3

Today's been good! Gonna try to look at the positives more than the negatives in these posts 💦😅 even if no one really reads em, it's nice to reflect on my day.

☮️General: Anyway, today I had therapy and it's really helping me understand myself and changing how I think. The therapist is really nice too! Also.. I'm going to be going to Poland on a trip!! Woo hoo! For the rest of tonight I'm going to make myself a cup of tea with almond milk ( hopefully tastes alright lol ) and do some Christmas shopping

Sleep 😴: I googled it and 18yos should be getting 7 or more hours of sleep so I think I'm doing okay! Nothing to fix here

Food 🥝: The morning was really lazy but I managed my portion when having breakfast today ( branflakes ) . For lunch I had a sandwich, apple and rice cake 😋. I had a snack today but thankfully not hundreds 🙏. For dinner I made vegetable soup! The last time I made soup I was 13 hahaha. It was sooo gooood. I made some more for tomorrow. I also went shopping today and bought a lot of healthy food!! For snacks..my enemy.. I bought these low cal weight loss bars which are < 80 cals and tinned peaches. The reason why I'm not cutting snacks out completely is because my brain would just snack on whatever is in the house and it would just lead to lots of cals eaten. Tryna lower my cals then cut out snacks completely 🤞

College 🎓: My assignment is due in on the 29th and I'm so nervous. I still need to finish it and make some alterations.. wish me luck 🤞 I had class for Planning and management today and it was just a recap on the assignment. Wildlife management was interesting! We did a recap on conflicts between humans and the British Wildlife. We then learned about different organisations (GO'S) and (NGO's). One is managed by the government, the others independent ect

👟Exercise: No walk today!! Buttt I went on the treadmill and did a 30 min walk at 15 incline. My legs were dying after 😂

🧴Skincare ect: I had a shower and used my skin stuff this morning. I think my spots are getting a little better. However, the spots on my backs and arms are so bad now since I've started HRT it's crazy. Before I started HRT I had little to no spots on my face and had a few odd ones on my shoulders. So I think my best bet is riding this out until the hrt settles 🤷‍♂️

Overall today was a 6/10 day!!

Improvements: WAKING UP IN THE MORNING!! I feel awful when I sleep in. But I'm not even joking you I can't hear my alarm in the morning. Not because I'm too fast asleep.. but because I'm literally deaf. Both of my ears get blocked at night and in the morning so I lose my hearing 😭😢. Ive put in drops today and yesterday. I really need to see a pharmacy about getting this fixed. Gonna set hundreds of alarms for tomorrow to make sure I HEAR THE ALARM!! Another improvement, I'm going to write a schedule but not make it too restrictive. Maybe just in the morning I'll make it more controlled.

Anyways, goodnight everyone!!

[fizzyxcustard]

Okay okay okay I just thought of a really cute prompt for a LotR fic, since you said you were wanting to write for the og trilogy again. Feel free to get to this whenever works for you!

Merry and Reader are in the like early stages of a relationship, maybe they're officially courting, maybe not, but there's an understanding there. Anyway, they're at some party or other, and one is dancing while the other watches with a soft smile on their face. Their eyes meet from across the room and suddenly they both have goofy, lovestruck expressions on their faces.

Idk how much detail you want or if this is enough for a whole one shot but I thought it'd be cute and would love to see your take on it.

(This is such an adorable idea, and thank you for suggesting it!! I won't tag anyone in it because this might be a complete flop and everyone hates it. LOL! But I do indeed want to branch out and get back into Lord of the Rings fics.)

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Merry x Fem!Hobbit!Reader

Warnings: Lots of fluff.

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be added to my tag list, please let me know. This is my first Merry fic, and my first fic back in Lord of the Rings, so please be gentle with me. LOL.

The Green Dragon was heaving with patrons. It was Rosie and Sam's wedding day, and everyone in the Shire had been invited to the celebrations. Some hobbits were still congregated up in the main party field, devouring the wedding cake, while a large group of you had retreated back to the Green Dragon for drinks, a smoke and cosiness by the open fire.

A few of your friends had pulled you up to to dance in the centre of the main room. There was laughing and giggling the girl hobbits who were all around you. Your friend, Daisy, grabbed your hands and spun you around, while others sang.

Merry was on the opposite side of the room, sat at a table with Pippin and Frodo. He couldn't help but keep averting his eyes over toward you.

"Are you even listening?" Frodo chuckled, raising his tankard for a sip. Ever since Merry had first kissed you, he was constantly day dreaming and pre-occupied. No one but you seemed to be able to get his attention.

Pippin sighed, trying to hide the sadness of losing his best friend and partner in crime, despite being happy for him and you.

"What?" Merry asked, his head shifting turning to face Frodo.

Your head was spinning and you kept giggling, your cheeks glowing in happiness. And as you slowed down, the song coming to an end, you looked over toward Merry again. He had his gaze on you, and he smiled. Your heart fluttered and you felt the flush on your cheeks burn even hotter.

Daisy rolled her eyes playfully. "You are Merry are making me feel sick."

By the end of the night, as everyone filed out of the small tavern, Merry waited for you by the door. He held his arm out and you curled yours in his, giggling again. Whenever you were with him, or in close proximity, and the contentment washed over you. It rested in your heart.

Merry looked at you as he walked you home, studying your bright eyes as they took in your surroundings. Your curiosity was what he had fallen in love with first. Every little thing around you was special; flowers, animals, the sun, the moon and the stars. He watched the reflection of the stars in your eyes as you looked upwards at the heavens.

You could feel Merry watching you again and suddenly you stopped, grinning. Not able to hold back, you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

[dirtyvulture]

😎 Sooooooo My Nephew is due TODAY ✨✨✨✨ my sister was induced this morning and is going back to the hospital night . It’s very likely that My nephew will be born on the 11 ( especially considering the first baby’s labor typically takes a REALLY LONG time and my nephew is my sister’s first) . So Dad , Mom and I decided to celebrate a bit with beer , pizza and there is also cake !!!!!!!

Now let’s see if I can come up with soo thoughts !!!!!

I will start it with , I read the new fic and it’s AMAZING like always and once again vulture proves why they have the title of god of lust with that smut !!!!! I have been talking with a friend and we all know how SB is a golden retriever , welllllll ….. my friend and I decided that Wolvie R is a grumpy old German Shepherd and that DK! Nat is a golden retriever ( Sgt Romanoff is of course a black cat) . My friend and I also decided that the CEO ! R is a high maintenance golden doodle , and that Nat was acting like a TRUE Black Widow ( much like the ones in the comics and muc) . I found a very interesting detail about how excited R got about talking about her work , her plans , tech in general and her company….. she has so much pride and passion in her work . Seeing how that played out is just soooo heartbreaking.

Ummmmmmm , let’s see if I can come up with something of a thought for the SB and DK universe.

I think Sarah ( SB’s sister) was induced when she had her son ( SB’s nephew) , SB was soooo excited ( think FULL BLOWN excited golden retriever completed with HONEST TO GOD ZOOMIES ) and was trying to be as supportive and helpful as possible . Getting Sarah snacks, helping her walking around, just anything and everything . They are even helpful and supportive of Sarah’s partner. SB told Nat that she didn’t have to come if she didn’t want to but Nat came anyways , Nat fell asleep in a chair and SB DIDNT SLEEP AT ALL ( they were READY for their nephew) . Ps I am fully projecting as my sister lives soooo far away from the rest of us so I won’t be able to see , meet or hold my nephew UNTIL JULY/ JUNE 😭😭😭😭 I will probably wouldn’t be able sleep tonight because I am sooo excited for my nephew!!!!!!

Soooo I had to clip my nails again today , my nails grow so damn fast that I have to CONSTANTLY cut them ( I FUCKING HATE those emery board things, they feel sooo weird and I HATE IT) . I think that R’s also CONSTANTLY has to cut/ clip her nails as they grow LONG and SHARP ( not like full blown CLAWS but still long and sharp) and soooo FAST , so she cuts and clips them so she doesn’t accidentally scratch the shit out of herself or others. She also has a bit longer Canine teeth, sharp ones too ( again NOT full blown fangs or anything like that) . R also HATES the dentist ( I can go more in depth on this later ) !!!!

That is about it for this post , everyone take it !!!!!

I'm responding to this very late but I hope your nephew was born safely and your sister is doing well :)

Thank you very much for the love on a new fic! 🥰 I do have some plans for a Part 2 when I finally get the time to write again.

I love all the analogies to dogs, they are all very fitting. And yep, CEO!R is definitely a golden doodle. I don't think she necessarily tries to be a high-maintenance or obnoxious person, it's kind of the way she was raised, and yes, she is actually extremely smart and talented, but as a woman in tech she is just not respected that way.

Sergeant Beef would be so excited for their coming nephew, and of course Sergeant Nat would be very impressed (and probably even feral) for them the whole time. And I hope you get to see your nephew in person at the earliest chance you get!

Lol, I wonder if Wolvie!R has the dexterity to cut her own nails with her claws on the other hand...that would probably be very dangerous though and Nat would make her stop immediately.

Thanks for stopping by, anon!