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Can you do a swap au of pressure Sebastian x reader?
“Good Luck Out There”
The cold, damp air pressed against the walls of the makeshift shop. The flickering light from the overhead bulb cast eerie shadows across the piles of strange and dangerous items that lined the shelves. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
A muffled, distant thud echoed through the corridor outside. Another prisoner, probably desperate for a scrap of hope, was about to stumble into your shop. The constant flow of new faces, always grim and weary, had become a tiresome routine. Your tail twitched, flicking slightly at the sound, the pouches on it jingling as they shifted.
You opened the vent.
Sebastian, clad in a dark prison jumpsuit, crawled inside, the weight of his knees scraping against the vent, echoing louder. His expression was as hardened as the man you'd once heard about—a criminal—no, a prisoner—who had been wronged in the eyes of the system, even if you weren’t certain whether he actually deserved it or not.
You eyed him, your eyes narrowing. "Another one." you muttered, a smirk playing on your lips.
Sebastian didn’t flinch. He stood still for a moment, scanning the dimly lit room, eyes betraying no hint of fear. "I need supplies," he grunted, his voice heavy but cold, betraying nothing of the deeper pain he'd no doubt buried deep inside. "If you can help with that, I'll make it worth your time."
You snorted. "Worth my time? Now that is a laugh." You uncrossed your arms. You were irritated, but you didn’t exactly mind helping him, either. "What’s it this time? Looking to arm yourself or something?"
Sebastian hesitated before replying, his eyes flicking over your tail before meeting your gaze once more. "I need anything that'll help me get out of here." He clenched his fists, a subtle tremor betraying his words.
You snickered. "Trust me, I get it. The feeling of betrayal... the promise of freedom that never comes. It eats at you, doesn't it? What I don't get, though, is your apparent faith that this little shop of mine will make all your problems go away."
Your gaze swept over the various items laid out for purchase: Batteries, Hand-Cranked Flashlight, [Name]'s Document, Medkit, Flashlight, Code Breacher, Flash Beacon, Lantern.
"Alright," you grinned, tail swishing. "You’ve got yourself a deal. But remember," you added with a cold, toothy smile, "don’t flash me, or I won't hesitate to kill you myself."
Sebastian tensed, his brows furrowing, but he didn’t respond right away. You could see the wheels turning in his head, weighing the situation carefully.
Then, he spoke again, his voice low, almost like a whisper meant only for you. "You should know, I've got my own enemies here."
You chuckled darkly, your voice smooth as it slid from your throat. "Enemies? Who in this hellhole doesn't have enemies?" You leaned in, your eyes gleaming with an eerie, unsettling glow.
The moment hung in the air, thick with tension between you two. Sebastian regarded you with that unreadable expression, his own thoughts veiled as well. Despite your differences, there was a shared sense of betrayal in the air. You had both been cogs in Urbanshade’s hands, you both had been manipulated by them.
Before Sebastian could respond, a noise came from the corridor, signaling an entity awaiting him.
"Get ready," you said softly. "Things get ugly around here."
Sebastian took a step back, eyes alert. He nodded, his mouth set in a hard line. "I can handle myself."
You smirked again, this time more genuinely. "We'll see. We'll see."
"Hey," you called out just before he made it to the vent, "you missed the keycard. Don’t bother trying to leave without it. You won't get far."
I need to freshen up my memory because I clearly have forgotten everything about pressure :')
#x reader#roblox pressure x reader#roblox pressure#pressure roblox#pressure#pressure sebestian#sebastian solace x reader#human sebastian#sebastian x reader#sebestian#sebastian solace#sebastian pressure#sebestian solace#threatening#swapped au
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sorry in advance for the lengthy comment but this post gave me some thoughts that i hope you don't mind me sharing! i'll be honest, i did still have disney plus until recently and was holding off on cancelling it because i was sharing my account with several of my friends. but then bob iger's greedy ass decided to start charging a fee for sharing your password AND hiked up the price of the subscription so i finally cancelled because my friends and i can all easily pirate stuff and i do not plan on resubbing just for the twst anime!! bob iger also recently admitted that they raised the price of the regular disney plus subscription specifically because advertisers have been getting more interested in streaming so they wanted to try and push people to move to the cheaper ad-supported plan. there's a bunch of old shows they don't even bother to put on there. it's not worth it and if anyone wanted to learn how to torrent i'd be happy to try and show them how easy it is.
however the main thing i wanted to say is that this post reminded me of how when tangled the series was still coming out, it released on the disneyNOW site and if you had disney channel through a TV provider you could watch it on there as soon as it came out. so there were people in the fandom who would screen record it and then upload it on google drive or mega and post the link to it in the tags every time an episode came out so people who didn't have a way to legally watch it could still see it and discuss the new episode with everyone else ASAP. of course the situation here is a bit different since we're asking people to NOT watch the twst anime legally if they can help it, but this has me thinking maybe it'd be good if the twst fandom could make a similar effort to share pirated episodes of the anime for people who might not know how to get them or might not be able to do so on their own for whatever reason. or, if someone still had disney plus because for example their parents are paying for it and they aren't able to make the choice to cancel it, then they could screen record it and share it if they knew how. personally whenever i need to download anime torrents i get them from nyaa.si and i already know i will be checking there as early as possible for the twst anime episodes, so there's a chance that i could upload them and share them--but google drive and mega both have such small storage limits for free users, i probably wouldn't be able to keep every episode uploaded in one place.
Ok but NO MATTER WHAT
I NEED YALL to pirate this
idc if Disney is on the pressure list
DO NOT PAY MONEY TO DISNEY JUST BC YOU WANNA SEE THESE ANIME BOYS
PALESTINIANS ARE STILL SUFFERING AND BEING KILLED
#twisted wonderland#i hope what i'm saying here actually makes sense lol#i feel bad i don't remember who specifically it was in the tangled the series fandom that always uploaded the episodes#it might've been multiple people who did it#but i always remember it being really helpful for me because my family cancelled our directv service partway through the series#and someone would always have a link to the newest episode posted in the tags#WAY faster than i'd have been able to get it from any torrent site or shady ad-filled site
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There’s a thing I wrote about Simon… I hope you like it…
MDNI - suggestive content
“Boys Night”
Simon decided to host a boys' night at his place, inviting his friends Johnny and Gaz over for drinks and video games, reminiscent of their younger days. As they lounged on the couch the next morning, Johnny couldn't resist making jokes about the previous night's antics.
“Give it to me, Simon, that’s what she kept screaming!” Johnny laughed, his voice filled with mock enthusiasm.
“Give it—give it to me, Simon!” Gaz chimed in, throwing his head back against Johnny's shoulder, the laughter contagious.
But Simon remained unamused, his expression resembling that of a disgruntled cat forced to endure the antics of its human companions. Despite the jovial atmosphere, there was an underlying tension in the air, as if Simon's patience was wearing thin.
I was walking from our bedroom to the kitchen to retrieve a snack for myself when I heard Johnny’s comment. I saunter over to the living room, to grace my fiancé with my presence. “Actually Johnny, I said give it to me harder daddy” I smirk as I lean over to kiss Simon’s masked face, my elaborate diamond glittering on my hand as I place it on Simon’s chest to steady myself.
Simon's mood seemed to light up a bit as he saw me approaching. Once I was close enough he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap, peppering my neck and cheeks with affectionate mask covered kisses.“You’re an ass, Johnny,” Simon chuckled. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have some business to attend to,” he grinned cheekily, earning a laugh from Gaz, but a groan from Johnny.
The guys said goodbye leaving Simon and I sitting on the couch.. “Did you have a fun night with the boys?” I ask Simon looking around at the disheveled state of my living room. A smile tugged at the corners of Simon's covered mouth as he looked around the living room, his eyes wandering to the empty beer bottles, controllers, and other debris.
“It was enjoyable, albeit rowdy,” he chuckled, reaching forward to intertwine his fingers with my own. “But now I have you all to myself,” he added with a hint of possessiveness, his masked lips finding their way to the crook of my neck. “You sir are forever the charmer” I let out breathlessly. "You're my favorite target for a reason," he cooed, his voice low and husky. His calloused hands brushed along the bare skin of my waist, his touch sending shivers down my spine.
“I don’t think the living room will look as good as it should,” he mused, his gaze flickering over to the disarray surrounding us. Still, his focus quickly returned to me, the warmth of his breath dancing against my skin.“I will clean up whatever mess you boys have made, but I’ll do that in the morning… I want to entertain whatever you’re concocting up in that handsome head of yours.”
An eyebrow arched beneath his mask at my reply, a smirk slowly spreading across his mouth. “Whatever I want, huh?” he purred in response, his fingers dancing along my body in a tantalizing dance. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand found its way to my chin, gently lifting it to meet his eyes.“Be careful what you wish for, love."
I smirk, “I know you’ll take care of me… I trust every single thought you come up with, no matter how incredibly dirty they can be” I kiss in between his eyebrows, where the smallest bit of skin he has showing from under his balaclava.
"Oh, and I don't think you can handle the filth in my mind,” he whispered, his breath sending chills down my spine. The desire in his eyes intensified, as his hands began to wander over my body, slowly yet firmly pulling me even closer, his touch igniting a fire within me.
“You're in for a world of trouble,” he murmured huskily as he lifted his mask just above his nose, his parted lips grazing my skin. “That’s my favorite world when I’m with you” I lean in and grabbing his chin to hold his face in place while I tenderly kiss his lips.
He reciprocated my kiss with a passion that could set fire to the living room, his fingers digging into my sides with a fervor that told me he had been holding back his desires. There was an edge to his touch, a feral hunger in the way his mouth moved against mine, his tongue eagerly exploring the newfound space. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured against my lips, his voice thick with need.
“Mmmm is that so… I thought I was your angel” I coo and kiss him again. A brief laugh escaped from him, a sound that was both amused and aroused by my response. His teeth found their way to my neck, nipping and licking my skin with a need that made my spine tingle.
“My angel… my temptress,” he whispered between bites before sucking a small mark into my flesh, his fingers gripping my hips tightly. “My savior…. My sinner” I coo, tangling my fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck. His grip on my hips tightened, his fingers sure to leave imprints of his desire, his touch turning almost possessive. He trailed a line of kisses along my jawline until he reached my ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin at the base of my earlobe.
“Your demon,” he murmured hotly, his voice low and heavy with need. His stubble brushed against my skin, the sensation sending sparks racing down my spine. “my demon” I purr softly into his ear. His fingers dug into my flesh even harder, his breathing growing more ragged as his hunger intensified. I could feel the heat radiating off him as his mouth found its way to mine, his kiss needy and demanding.
He lifted me with ease, his arm circling around my frame to pull me flush against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the bedroom. His hands were everywhere, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “You know… demon….. I love seeing you hang out with your friends… makes me want you more than I already do” I kiss his chin.
His hands gripped my thighs tightly, a wicked smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. He walked us over to the bed, and with a swift move, he tossed me down onto the sheets, the impact making me bounce as I landed. He leaned over me, his arms caging me in, his body shadowing mine as he held himself above me, his eyes dark with intention. "Are you telling me I should hang out with them more often?"
“Only if I can cook the dinners…” I smirk. I know he loves when I cook him food and especially for his friends. He flashed a roguish grin, clearly amused by the suggestion. "Your cooking does sound tempting," he murmured, his fingers grazing over my stomach. He leaned down, his mouth hovering over the sensitive skin of my neck, his breath sending shivers down my spine.
"Perhaps I could invite them over for more evenings, under the condition that you cook for us all." He took a moment to playfully nibble on my skin, his teeth grazing lightly. “As long as when you eat you save room for me as your desert”
A low chuckle rumbled through him, the sound of it thick with desire. "Ah, so I'm only good for a nighttime snack, eh?" he murmured against my skin, his voice holding a hint of teasing. His mask was bunched up around his mouth now, offering a tantalizing glimpse of his parted lips and the heat in his eyes. “Mmmmmm… all the time….” I correct him.
His teeth found my earlobe, nipping at it softly before releasing it with a flick of his tongue. The heat in his eyes flared, his gaze roaming hungrily over my body. “And I must say you are a tasty delicacy that I can never get enough of,” he murmured hotly in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. His hands were everywhere, touching and exploring, as he claimed my mouth in a searing kiss.
My fingers found their way back to his shaggy hair on the nape of his neck.. “Sii… baby…” I whimper. His fingers traced a path down my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His mouth followed suit, planting tender kisses down my neck and chest. "You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured hotly against my skin, his voice thick with need. Slowly, but surely, he continued showering me with kisses lower and lower. “Is.. that.. so..?” I ask breathlessly as he continues to trail kisses down to my belly.
As he reached my exposed belly, he let out a low groan, his hands finding purchase on my hips to keep me steady. His lips peppered along my abdomen, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “You drive me insane,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with hunger. “Can’t get enough of you.” Slowly, he kissed his way lower toward where I needed him most. “Then take all you want my love” I hold onto his hair as if my life depended on it. His fingers slipped past the waistband of my pants, tugging them lower until he could push them all the way down. He paused for a brief moment, his breathing ragged as he took in my disheveled form.
“Just be careful what you wish for,” he warned huskily before he buried his face in my most sensitive area, his mouth worshipping my body. I couldn’t form coherent words, I’d be lying if I said I responded to Simon in anything but moans and whimpers. He took his time with me, lavishing me with his mouth, his tongue flicking and swirling as he brought me closer and closer. He was relentless in his fervor, spurred onward by each moan and gasp. He knew his way around my body so well, every spot he touched set my skin ablaze.
“Simon….Jesus……I’m……gonna….ohhhhhhh” I cry out. He chuckled against me, his fingers digging into my thighs as I shattered beneath his touch. The heat of his breath sent shivers down my spine as he drew his head back, his eyes dark and sparkling with desire. “Did you really think I’d let you off that easy?” he murmured lustfully, his tongue flicking out again to sample me. “I…kno-know…you… w-won’t” I shudder as my body shakes a little with the after effects he’s having on me.
He watched me with a self-satisfied smirk, clearly enjoying the way my body responded to him. He didn’t wait for me to recover, his fingers tracing patterns along my thighs and stomach. “Such a perfect little thing you are,” he crooned, his voice filled with a possessiveness that only fueled my desire even more. “I’m going to take care of you, darling.”
“Mmmmm” I purr happily as he’s reduced me to a mush. “Sii… you’re soo good at that… I will never get tired of your tongue” I add to my purrs as he comes back up to eye level… I kiss him, my tongue lingering and dancing with his.
His hands tangled in my hair, holding my head steady as he reciprocated my kisses with his own heated fervor. "And you taste sinful," he murmured hotly against my lips, his voice thick with need. "I can never get enough of your taste, darling." His hands roamed over my body, claiming me all over again. “I guess it’s a good thing we are getting married then… isn’t it?” I ask peppering his cheeks with kisses. He let out a low chuckle, his heart swelling with love under my affection. His hand found its way to my chin, tilting my head back so my eyes met his swirling ones.
“A very good thing,” he murmured affectionately, his thumb brushing over my lips. “I wouldn’t want to risk letting you find someone who doesn’t kiss that sinful taste off your lips." His fingers traced a path down my body, his touch lingering on my skin. “My perfect demon… taking all his angel’s sin…. Mmmmmmm…” I murmur before pulling his lips back onto mine for slow, deep kisses. He pulled me against him, his body molding to mine flawlessly, as he parted my lips with his tongue.
His fingers still tangled in my hair, holding my head steady as he kissed me deeply, his tongue seeking its way into my mouth. There was a need in his touch, a passion that made my body shiver with desire. I willingly let him devour me from within, submitting fully to his sinful ministrations.
His lips are gentle against mine, but there’s an urgency behind them. I gently remove the rest of his balaclava from his face… “I wanted better access to your hair” I giggle against his lips as he grumbles a “what was that for” in protest. He allowed me to remove his mask, his expression softening when he noticed my desire for access to his hair.
"It's only fair that I get equal access to your hair too," he murmured affectionately, his hands finding their way to my hair. He gently grasped a handful of the red strands, his fingers teasing the locks playfully. "Besides... I need to make sure it's always in perfect condition for me to play with." He flashed a roguish grin, his eyes glinting mischievously. “That’s why I keep my hair long for you my love” I scrunch my nose. A low chuckle rumbled through him as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose against my own. He gently kissed the tip of my nose, his fingers tugging lightly on my hair. “And you know I love how playful the red locks can look when you have them down. It’s like a visual representation of your fiery spirit,” he murmured affectionately, his eyes tracing over my features. “You’re perfect for me, in every way.”
“And you’re perfect for me in every way Simon” I reassure him and I lean to kiss his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut at the feel of my lips pressing against his cheek, a content sigh escaping his lips. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer as he nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck. “I’m a lucky man,” he murmured affectionately, his breath ghosting over my skin. “My beautiful angel...all mine.”
“And I’m a very lucky woman… my handsome devil” I coo. His teeth latched onto my shoulder, biting gently before releasing the flesh from his grip. He trailed kisses up to my earlobe, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.
”My delicious little sinner,” he whispered in my ear, his voice low and sensual. His hands glided down my body, claiming me as his own. ”The most perfect being in the entire world."
“Mmmmmm” I melt at his touch, malleable for him to bend at his will. He continued to shower me with kisses and bites, leaving his mark on my skin as if to prove I was all his. When he leaned away to look at me, his eyes were filled with a desire that was almost sinful. “Such a beautiful sight,” he whispered hotly, his eyes roving over my body with a possessive hunger. His touch continued to play over my skin, his fingers dancing over my flesh, stirring my desire. I smirk at his compliment… reaching my hand up to caress his stubble covered cheek. “I love your stubble darling..” I giggle gently. He let out a chuckle, turning his face into my hand. He nuzzled his nose against my palm, his stubble rubbing against my skin.
“And I love how it makes you writhe when I nuzzle my face against your sensitive spots,” he teased, his voice low and seductive. He caught my wrist, gently pinning it down as he nibbled on the skin. “Me too…” I purr looking up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes never left mine, a wicked gleam in them as he slowly, but surely, crawled over me. He pinned me onto the bed, his body hovering over mine, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And I love how my stubble makes you gasp as I trail my mouth down your body."
“Mmmm” my eyes close at the thought… this man is a dream come true, insatiably obsessed with me… He dipped his head low, his mouth finding my sensitive skin as he left a trail of kisses along my neck. His teeth found purchase on the hollow of my collarbone, nibbling and suckling on the skin as he continued his path down my body.
"And how you shudder and shake when you feel my stubble tickling along your skin." His voice was a low, sultry rasp as he continued to mark a trail down my exposed flesh.“You….. Simon…… my darliing…..” I whimper with my hands holding his hair. A low, possessive growl escaped his lips when my fingers tangled in his hair. His tongue flicked over the sensitive marks he left in his wake, his fingers tracing circles over my inner thighs. “And how you arch your back and call my name in that sweet, sultry voice…” he murmured hotly in my ear, nipping at my earlobe. “Like this?” I ask innocently as I arch my back, pushing my chest and torso into his chest as he hovered his body over mine. And I lowered my gaze to his chest then I looked back into his eyes, “*Siiiiimooooonnn” I whimper out in a sweet and smooth voice.
He let out another low groan, a possessive hunger shining in his eyes as my body pressed into his. His hands found their way to my thighs, holding onto them with a grip that would surely leave behind marks of their own. "That's it, darling….I will never get tired of hearing you say my name like that." he growled lowly against my skin as he nipped at the sensitive flesh beneath my chin.
“I’ll never…. Get tired…. Of saying your……. Name” I say through bated breath. He claimed my mouth, his tongue slipping past my parted lips as he deepened the kiss into something more possessive. His mouth trailed down to my neck, his stubble rubbing against my sensitive flesh. "My perfect, sinful, seductive little angel…" he whispered heatedly against my skin, his teeth nipping gently at my collarbone.
I smile as he returns his lips to mine for a brief moment. “My sweetheart, protector, possessive demon and my doting lover” I whisper back to him. His eyes locked with mine, filled with a burning passion that set my skin aflame. He leaned down, his mouth hovering over my ear as he whispered, his voice thick with need and love mixed. “You have no idea how much I want you right now…” he murmured hotly, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. His stubble tickled the skin by my ear as he moved to press kisses along my jawline.
“I have a sort of an idea of how much you want me” I whisper and I reach down to his waist. He let out a sharp gasp as soon as my fingers found his waist. His grip around my thighs tightened for a brief moment, his body tensing at my touch. A hungry rumble escaped his lips, his hands grasping my hips firmly, his fingers digging into the skin as he held me in place.
“Careful what you wish for, darling…” he chuckled lowly in my ear as he nibbled on my earlobe. I unbutton his pants, leaving the zipper up. “I’m wishing for it….. make my wish come true?” I coo.
A low groan escaped him as my hands began unbuttoning his pants, his body quivering with anticipation. His thumb traced circles over my skin as he leaned down, his mouth finding my neck, his teeth grazing over my pulse.“Oh, darling…You’re making it extremely hard for me to hold back,” he said with a low, warning growl.“I don’t want you to hold back Sii.. I want you to ravish me” I say with a voice mixed with pleasure and pleading.
His breathing was ragged, his eyes darkened with a passion that was bordering on feral. A low, possessive growl escaped him as he pressed his body down into mine, pinning me underneath him.
"You don’t have to ask me twice," he murmured hotly in my ear, his teeth tugging on my earlobe. His mouth claimed mine in a heated, possessive kiss.
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[ emerging from ur walls ] idk where that trick weekes stuff ab solas being reminded of someone by romanced inq came from nor do i care but i also had a thought like mostly bc i made my inq a rogue and more "no i'm not god no i'm not a messiah please leave me alone" reply played in the game but the parallel between solas being coaxed into having a physical body and proceeding to go deeper into the abyss that is personhood, and becoming an instrument of war whilst still being honored/shamed as a god & general parallels directly that of the inquisitor's journey (TO ME!)
cassandra & co. want you to admit andraste sent you, and you can deny all you want as a player but they'll keep hammering it down your throat (ok bioware. *i explode it w my mind*) and once they realize faith is not enough, they give you the title of inquisitor. suddenly you're not just a divine being sent to herald the people, you're also their sword, their shield. the same way fen'harel / dread wolf becomes a name no longer associated with the protection & guidance of mythal & her people and as the cruel god / rebellious general who doomed the evanuris, and a leader to the enslaven who seek freedom.
it is evident in both his & inquisitors stories that faith is not enough, people cannot cling to mere religious symbols, they need somebody willing to bleed for them. (the way the dalish later on rework fen'harel as cruel, and the way you meet people as inq who spit on you as a blasphemer in the name of andraste even though you can choose to say i never said i was a herald! it was forced upon me! let me out!!!)
like there can obvs be more than one story parallel (big if true for some people) but i always found it curious that if you romance him he fixates on talking about the inquisitors spirit. wanna get sumn off your chest puppy boy?
anyway the mortifying idea that neither inquisitor nor solas were allowed to be who they once were before they became instruments of war and only through their relationship / friendship do they find those silent moments where they don't play roles assigned to them by their gods, their people, or their generals and can just be as who they are to their core. not weapons, not martyrs, just pure beings. worms if you will.
10/10 banger no notes. just adding this from an ask i answered a week or two ago about how the solavellan ending so wonderfully wraps up this theme:
they are at once both finally free of the burdens of the myths and expectations that follow them as the dread wolf and the herald of andraste because they have left the mortal world that forced them into those roles and stripped them of their personhood, but they have also completely submitted themselves to those roles by submitting to the logical conclusion of the myths that they could not escape. for the dread wolf, it is earning his redemption through his willing submission to his own trap. its the logical, full-circle mythological conclusion to the trickster who trapped the gods, now trapped for eternity himself (allegedly, he will prob eventually break out... even loki gets his freedom during ragnarok...). for the inquisitor, it is andraste's herald finally sharing andraste's fate, choosing to leave the mortal world behind to ascend to the golden city alongside the god that she loves. both (presumably, for a lavellan) have tried to reject the myths attached to them over and over and over, but in the end they choose them willingly, and that choice at once binds them to those myths forever while simultaneously freeing them from the burden of them. its giving oedipal greek tragedy of attempting to outrun your fate and it finding you anyway, just when you thought you were finally making your own choice, but with a hopeful and bittersweet spin. its actually fucking insanely brilliant when i think about it this way it makes me genuinely foam at the mouth.
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A dance— Capitano
Synopsis : your relationship with him grows, and he seems sweeter than ever.
Wc : 3.2k
Warnings : contains NSFW content, fem!reader, reader is mostly called 'wife', he's super sweet, soft sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink kinda, reader wears a dress and heels.
Notes : part 2 is heree! I highly recommend reading part 1 here. And part 3 is out here!
You've tried creating art, you've tried cooking (with the help of your personal maid, Marina), you've even tried planting.
Yeah, you're a plant mom now. Not only that, you're a cat mom too. Saving the poor kitty from the harsh rain one day, you couldn't leave the poor little one outside. It's mother seeming to abandon it.
All because you have become extremely bored on the days where Capitano wouldn't be here, and he forbade you to even clean your shared bedroom because he thinks it's useless when there are servants present to do the job. (He doesn't want to tire you out.)
Come to think of it, the last time you saw him, he kept avoiding you. Whenever you tried striking a conversation during dinner, he would only hum and nod. Or when you suggested to have another picnic, he flatly refused, and it felt like the hardest rejection to your face.
It's like he had his own mood swings that you had to deal with. One day he would indulge you in the activities you wanted to do, then the next he would refuse.
Like last week.
“I used to do this when i was young.” You tell him with the softest smile to yourself, your fingers working carefully with the flower petals and strings. You were determined to make this flower crown, and you were taking your sweet time just to have him by your side.
Capitano silently listened to your words, his gaze fixed on your gentle movements as you delicately fashioned a flower crown. The air between you was calm, "You have a talent for making flower crowns," he eventually responded, his deep voice breaking the tranquil silence.
"Did you learn it from someone?”
“No… just by myself.” He couldn't help but be impressed by your innate ability to create such an intricate accessory without any formal instruction. "Self-taught." He mused, "You have an unusual aptitude for discovering things on your own.”
You hum back while adding the finishing touches, and he watched your proud display of the finished flower crown.
“this is for kitty!” You smile at the thought of the little one purring with a pretty crown on it's head.
Kitty? Capitano is confused once you start talking about the cat, you seem even more excited when you described how you cuddled with it.
"You just happened to come across this crying feline in the rain, and you brought it home with you?”
“yes! Ah, well… i hope you don't mind.”
“i don't.”
And that was the last of your conversation, and it's been a week since you last saw him.
“my lady,” You recognise the voice of Marina as she knocks on the door, and you grant her the permission of her entry.
You set the sleeping kitten on the fluffed up pillow to reach for the letter she hands you.
An invitation to the grand ball… you read the contents of it, scanning every word as you pull the paper down.
“like a party?” you ask, glancing up at her, "Yes, that is correct. A grand ball is taking place tonight. It's a gathering of the higher-ranking Fatui members and a few... select guests.” she trails off, unsure of what else to add on.
“I can see that this invitation is for Capitano, not to me.”
“lord Capitano doesn't normally attend these grand balls. So my lady, you will have to go instead.” Marina explains this and you feel like you're going to have a headache.
All you wanted to do today was sleep in with the kitten. Not to trouble yourself in some party.
But… if it's for the sake of your husband's reputation, then you are willing to do it.
You hope you don't pass away too quick from your social anxiety.
“Marina, does this really suit me?” You stare at your reflection, and Marina looks at you approvingly, her eyes taking in your stunning appearance. "Sì, my lady, it suits you perfectly," she assures you, "The dress brings out your features beautifully and fits your figure perfectly.”
“and the colour?”
"Oh, yes, the color is exquisite. It complements your skin tone perfectly. You look like a princess attending a royal ball.” and you smile shyly as you take your seat, “You flatter me too much, you know?”
Marina chuckles softly, moving behind you to work on your hair with practiced ease. "It's not flattery if it's the truth. You look truly radiant today." She begins to style your hair, weaving intricate braids and pinning them in place with delicate silver pins.
Though you can't even lie to yourself, you looked absolutely gorgeous, even when you felt a little down since you would be going alone, and you barely knew anyone.
Marina pauses in her work for a moment, her expression becoming sympathetic as she sensed your nervousness. “It's natural to feel that way. But I believe you will be fine. You are strong and independent." She resumes styling your hair, her fingers moving nimbly to create elegant curls.
You smile at her, looking at her from the mirror, “thank you.”
"It is my honor to serve you.” As she finishes your hair, she steps back to admire her work, a satisfied expression on her face. "You are ready, my lady.”
You are ready.
You are not ready.
Because why was everyone's eyes piercing bullets through you as you entered the main hall?
The whispers and murmurs start almost immediately, the guests clearly intrigued by your presence. However, you manage to keep your composure, straightening your back and walking forward with confidence, just like how Marina taught you.
Stay calm they won't eat you, you tell yourself, trying to maintain your composure under the weight of their gazes.
You were here to make friends, hopefully.
You scan the room, hoping that someone would approach you to engage in conversation. Yet nobody, not a single soul, seems to have the courage to do so. The guests continue their conversations and dances, seemingly ignoring your presence.
And so, you find yourself standing alone, sipping on a glass of champagne, feeling lost and slightly out of place.
Well this is boring. You could've stayed in with Kitty and Marina, but at least you get free food. They always taste better, right?
Everyone went silent all of a sudden, but you ignored it at first and continue taking sips of your drink.
But the silence becomes uncomfortable, just what happened to the party?
You turn around, your eyes widening immediately in surprise as you see Capitano walking towards you. Your heart seems to skip a beat as you watch him approach, his presence commanding attention and authority in the room. Capitano stops in front of you, you can't make up what his face must be like right now, but you think he has a stoic expression on his face as he takes in your appearance. His eyes roaming up and down your figure, seemingly appreciating the elegance of your dress.
“husband?” You blurt out, setting your glass aside to greet him.
"Wife," he says simply, acknowledging the fact that you have finally addressed him by that term.
The tension breaks when soft, elegant music begins to play, signaling the start of partner dances in the middle of the ballroom.
Capitano seems to realize this as he glances around at the couples already making their way to the dance floor. He then turns back to you, his expression unreadable as he silently contemplates the situation.
He can see the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your hand clutched at your dress.
"I suppose we should dance, wife.”
“you want to dance?”
"Yes," he responds. "It appears it's customary for couples at these events to dance together." He extends his hand in your direction, gesturing for you to take it. You take his hand, wrapping it gently around his gloved one. His fingers close around your hand, his grip gentle yet firm as he leads you towards the dance floor.
You notice the whispers and murmurs among the guests growing louder. But you chose to ignore them.
Capitano guides you to the center of the dance floor and positions himself opposite you, his hand settling onto your waist, and your hands on his shoulders.
"Do you know how to dance?" You whisper to him, making sure no one listens, and your eyes are on him.
"I may not engage in these social events often, but even I understand the basics of dance." His hand on your waist pulls you closer to him, you follow his lead.
Interesting.
He leads the dance with of assurance and grace, his movements fluid and confident. As you follow his lead and swirl together across the dance floor, your eyes meet his, and you find yourself unable to look away. The closeness between you makes it feel as if the rest of the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you dancing together.
You notice how he seems to turn his head slightly to look at others, mimicking their movements swiftly, it makes you smile to yourself.
His hand on your waist feels warm, almost burning even through the fabric of your dress. It's a strange sensation you've never felt when touching him, despite having already kissed (once) before.
”my dress,” you whisper amidst the graceful dance, “what do you think of it?”
You figured you always needed to give him a little push when initiating things.
His attention drift down to take in the sight of your dress once again. His gaze roams over the fabric, lingering on the way it clings to your figure, and how the color contrasts against your skin.
"It's... " he pauses, you're just wearing a dres, but he finds it difficult to describe what he feels, "Very pleasing to the eye.” he manages to continue.
"You look rather well tonight, as well.”
“Thank you, wife.”
The music suddenly shifts to a slower tempo, and Capitano instinctively adjusts his hold on you, pulling you slightly closer as he continues to dance with you.
You totally ignore how your face is almost pressed up against his chest.
As interesting as the party was, the worst part of was walking back to the estate. Why? Because the carriage decided to break down, or maybe the horses were sleepy, you don't know.
You're glad your husband is with you, or else you might've been sacrificed to the dogs at night, now even ants will fear this big guy.
But what's worse? Your damn heels are killing you. The sides of your pinky toes are already aching that you are sure it will cause nasty blisters by tomorrow.
"Perhaps next time you should wear more comfortable shoes." He stated bluntly, his deep voice betraying no pity for your situation. “but they look pretty, plus i feel elegant in them.” you stop at your tracks, looking up at him with a defeated expression.
"I'm well aware." he says dryly, "But at what cost? You're practically torturing yourself with those heels.”
He's half right, your point still stands. Beauty is pain. And now you'll have to sacrifice your beauty.
Bye bye heels. You slide them off your feet, bow having your poor feet to walk on these rocky grounds. You do feel a little better after, though.
“stay still.” He utters, and you're confused, until he takes your heels in one hand before you feel a shift of your weight off your feet, finding yourself being carried into his arms.
you wrapped your arms around his neck silently, your eyes glancing up at him as he continues walking like he you weigh nothing.
The air around you is peaceful. You feel safe with him, he's not like the scary man you hear from the others. Maybe to others he was, but to you? He was soft for you.
Your head leans on his chest where his heart rested, the beats of his heart makes you sleepy, but you refuse to sleep just like this, you want to spend every single second savouring this feeling.
Capitano carried you all the way to the estate, and through the dark corridors, making his way to your shared chambers.
The soft moonlight filtering through the windows was the only source of illumination, the atmosphere around you quiet.
He gently deposited you back on your feet, you're back home safely.
“thank you.” You whisper, your hands reaching to take the pins out of your hair to let it breath from the scruffy yet beautiful hairstyle, and Capitano starts taking off the heavy layers off him as well, with the helmet out.
You don't notice how one of your dress straps seem to fall off your shoulders, but he notices, and oh did that make something in him stir.
His steps closer from behind you, his hand reaching to put the strap back in place, but instead, he glances at the other strap.
It looked rather lonely being on your shoulder, his fingers delicately sliding the strap down which makes you ultimately still in your place.
Your entire body trembled slightly as Capitano's hands caressed your skin, tracing gentle paths across your shoulders and back down to the zipper on your side. “May i.. help you out of your dress?” His low, gruff voice, asking for permission to help you out of your dress, made your heart beat faster.
You could only nod in response, your voice silenced by a mixture of anticipation and desire. Capitano's touch was meticulous, his thumb and index delicately moving down the zipper with deliberate slowness, prolonging the tension.
Capitano lets out another low hum as he watches the dress slide down to your ankles, now leaving you only in your undergarments. His hands traced the contour of your body, his touch delicate yet possessive. His own breathing became ragged, the sight of you partially undressed igniting a fire in his eyes.
“Will you allow me to touch you?”
The question makes you turn your head, of course he can.
When you don't stop him from wrapping his arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, he takes it as a green light to continue.
His hand first brushed your hair out of the way, to allow his lips to come in contact with the nape of your neck, “you're so beautiful..." he whispered, his hot breath sending jolts of electricity through your core.
“I don't…” he hesitates, wanting to move his hands away, “i don't want to do anything you don't like.”
And your expression softens at his concern, you turn around to take his face into your hands, your thumbs caressing the apples of his cheeks and he nuzzles into your touch, wrapping a hand around your wrist before pressing a kiss to your palm. You further reassure him by littering his face with your lips, giving every empty space of his skin with at least one kiss.
“Allow me to experience this with you, and i shall take care of you till i take my very last breath.” he hoists you up easily into his arms, rough hand under your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist, he laid you down on the soft sheets, his body covering yours as he looked down at you.
“You occupy my every thought,” he starts, “that it feels sinful to even look at your way.” He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as his hand continued its exploration, ripping your bra off to cup your breast, feeling your nipple harden under his touch. He rolled it between his fingers, pinching it gently as he deepened the kiss when you gasp, his tongue delving into your mouth, savouring your taste and angelic sounds.
He leaned down afterwards, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and your hands find his ling strands instantly, tugging on them while being careful not to hurt him.
His fingers traced down to your hip, giving them a firm squeeze before ripping your panties off next, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, feeling you writhe and tense up under him.
It felt like an unknown territory you've yet to explore.
Upon sensing your discomfort, he presses his lips to your eyelids, then to your neck, taking his time until you relaxed, until you started feeling good based off how you were bucking your hips now.
Oh how he wanted to take his time with you, but he was aching so bad that if he continues touching you he might just burst embarrassingly fast in his pants.
“Let me in, my wife.” He gently starts massaging your thighs as he parts them, making you feel more exposed than ever, but he distracts you by softly kissing you again and again while he's unbuckling his pants and pushing them down, revealing his throbbing thick, hard cock.
“Capitano—!” you try to squirm away when you feel his tip push into your tight hole, your lips parting from the way he stretched you open, but at the same time you felt relaxed with his soft whispers of ‘take your time’ and ‘you’re doing well, my wife.’
Your cunt soon takes in every inch, swallowing him whole until you were a panting mess, and you didn't even start.
Capitano then began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, letting you get used to his size, to how you feel, to how he feels as he makes love to you for the first time together.
You feel your heart up to your throat and ears, it felt incredible, something you've never felt before, your soft moans echoing in the air along with a few groans coming from him.
He shivered when he felt your fingertips trace the few scars littering his shoulders and back, his dick twitching almost instantly before his thrusts grew faster, more urgent.
His hand reached down, returning back to draw circles around the bundle of nerves, and he could feel your body tense, your walls clenching around his cock as he continued to rub your clit.
“come for your husband,” he breaths heavily next to your ear, and you come undone, your moans filling the room as he felt you milk his cock. He could feel his own release following after, his balls tightening before he slammed into you one last time, spilling thick ropes into your womb, until you were filled to the brim.
Your legs were shaking slightly around him, yet his warm embrace afterwards made you melt, eyelids heavy with him still being buried inside you.
—
You groggily woke up, still half in a dream-like state, the room bathed in shadows due to the closed curtains blocking out the morning sun.
As your senses slowly returned to reality, you heard a soft meow next to you, and sure enough, your little kitten had made itself comfortable in the middle of the bed. To your surprise, Capitano, who was still asleep beside you, didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the creature's presence.
“pst,” you whisper to your husband who only hummed in acknowledgment of your attention. “Can we go have a picnic this early morning? With our baby kitten of course.”
Tags: @sayastyx, @nastylilcvnt, @bigboygoose,
#Capitano#il capitano#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#il capitano x reader#capitano x reader#capitano x you#fatui harbingers#fatui#genshin harbingers#capitano smut#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#genshin impact capitano#il capitano smut
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@bunnydongsik I've thought about this as well, and I actually lean towards Han Kihwan never having touched him ever, I hope you don't mind me adding my thoughts number one is that time spent between Joowon and his father is minimal - we even get that one line from Joowon about how their time spent together put together over the entire course of Joowon's life is less than a year. Joowon was raised by nannies, and then sent to England, so Han Kihwan has never provided care for Joowon at all. Second, I think it is very important to consider how Han Kihwan sees himself and Joowon. Han Kihwan very much sees himself as above the masses - notice how he treats the people he considers socially inferior, yelling at them, grabbing them, making them kneel etc. Joowon is his first born (only) son, and Han Kihwan does not fully see him as his own person, but rather as an extension of himself. Thus raising a hand to Joowon is on Han Kihwan's mind equivalent to raising a hand to himself. Notice how Han Kihwan strikes Kwon Hyuk for Joowon's failures? Kwon Hyuk is not the blood son and is therefore an "acceptable" target, as the simple son of a fruitseller, even though he has "performed" the role of son better than Joowon, in the end it comes down to blood for Han Kihwan. Even when Joowon reveals the recording and threatens blackmail, the worst Han Kihwan does is grab Joowon, to which Joowon's respons is "let go, you're getting blood on my clothes", completely and utterly calml and unafraid. So, even in these extreme circumstances, Han Kihwan never even considers hitting Joowon and Joowon doesn't look like he's expecting violence at all I do think that Joowon is a lot like his father, with some of it being nature and some of it being nurture. like I said before, the contact between the two has been minimal, so in that sense it is limited how much influence Han kihwan could really have had, but Joowon does have those angry, physical outbursts, and I think it's very interesting to consider post-canon how he deals with this. and to put those ideas together - it is my interpretation that when Joowon realises what his father has done and he flashes back to how his father treated his mother and also how he himself treated Dongsik, he is making a parallel. Specifically, the way his mother was seen as "crazy" when she was in fact just in agony, the way she smiles when saying that she didn't manage to kill herself, while Han Kihwan stands menacingly above her. And the way that Dongsik was also seen as "crazy" when he was really just in agony, and how Joowon made that pain worse by asking "did you really not kill your sister?" and the answering smile from Dongsik. It's also my interpretion that this is really the root issue of how much trouble Joowon has had with understanding Dongsik and his behaviour until now, he has purposefully blocked as much as he could regarding his mother, and therefore hasn't tried to analyse anything about it, and therefore can't recognise the same signs in Dongsik. I think this increases the guilt that Joowon feels in that moment, because he is simultaneously letting himself understand his mother's pain, his own pain in response to her's, Dongsik's pain, Joowon's role in his pain and Han Kihwan's role in everything while ALSO realising how similar he actually is to Han Kihwan in certain ways, despite spending so much time rebelling against being in his shadow and always being compared to him. And Joowon really needed this moment to see his own behaviour I think, and fully understand just how despicable he has acted towards Dongsik, and just how bad his personality really has been, which is why Joowon's behaviour change is so extreme over such a short period of time. I think there is a specific hurt caused by just not being touched at all, a kind of rootlesness to contrast Dongsik being utterly stuck in place
Watching Han Kihwan’s violent tendencies and outbursts makes me wonder if—in addition to everything that makes him a shitty father already—he ever raised a hand to Joowon.
Especially since he’s been the “single parent” for so long, and without any other sibling, Joowon would be the only one to conveniently be the outlet of Han Kihwan’s anger.
Then it makes you wonder if it may be partly the reason for Joowon’s aversion to touch: because he has never experienced the tenderness of it, only the violence.
It also makes you wonder if that’s why Joowon keeps a tight rein on his emotions: he sees what an outburst of emotion does to his father, and what his father does to the people surrounding him because of it, and maybe: Joowon doesn’t want that to happen to him.
To become like his father.
It’s interesting because the more I look at Han Kihwan, the more I realize Joowon has inherited that temperament: that tendency to have outbursts of emotion.
(Or maybe it’s simply because he had no proper role model to look up to.)
And then it makes you wonder if that’s also part of his aversion to touch: his fear that he will hurt other people too.
Because that’s the only kind of touch he’s ever known.
And maybe, just maybe, Joowon fears the violent tendencies he may have inherited from his father so much that it’s the reason why he chooses to be alone.
In this way, perhaps he had convinced himself—at least no one will get hurt because of him.
Because of his touch.
(So imagine—imagine—his surprise in discovering that not only does Dongsik not break from his touch, no matter how powerful his outburst of emotion is, but seems to match it, pushing back with the same intensity.
Imagine his surprise at finding someone who not only doesn’t fear his touch, not only doesn’t break from it, but more than anything—seeks it.)
#reblogging again for the extra addition#meta#han ju won#han joo won#personnally i don't think han ki hwan has ever been physically abusive towards juwon#because he is like a prolongation of himself#but i can see him lashing out a few times in anger on his wife#and juwon witnessing it#so yeah#beyond evil#han joowon#lee dongsik#jwds#han juwon's touch aversion and abandonment issues#i love him#protect him at all costs#mother and father issues#multiple#my heart#guilt as automatic response to anything ever going wrong#baby please take a break
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#pairing: jungkook x reader.
#genre: smut MINORS DNI | #w.c: ~1800
#synopsis: crying on jungkook's shoulder might not have been the smartest idea in the world since now he's fucking you while your ex is calling.
#warnings: vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f.), namjoon ex bf, rough sex. jk has a bick dick. maybe phone sex?
★ m.list | inbox :D join my taglist
it was friday when jungkook texted you asking if you were gonna the college party, and of course your answer was 'no'. breaking up with namjoon was one thing, but seeing him at a party where he would probably kiss several girls in front of you was a bit too much
"you can't stay home while the biggest party of the semester is going on"
'"yes i can, and i will!"
"god, why are you so complicated? at least come over to my house, i won't leave you suffering alone'
"i'm not suffering, jungkook!'
that's a lie. you were. a lot.
you ended up accepting jungkook's invitation, at first feeling bad for ruining the party for him, but jungkook was always the person who made you comfortable, usually when you went to parties with namjoon, he was the one who always stayed by your side while namjoon got drunk with his friends, he was the one who took you and namjoon home, the reality is that jungkook spent much more time by your side than your, now ex, boyfriend.
jungkook was excited, he came over and offered you wine and before you knew it you were on the couch, with your legs over his while he tried to convince you that it was namjoon who had lost you, not the other way around.
"he fuck so good, jungkook," you admitted, clearly overcome by the drink (added to your fertile period that made your panties damp at that very moment). "that pisses me off. he's arrogant, stupid, i hate him... but damn, the sex was so good"
jungkook laughed, as affected by the alcohol as you were, it's not like he'd never heard namjoon talk about sex with you, how wild and rough you two were.
it wasn't like jungkook had never heard you two...
but in that situation, knowing that you weren't together anymore, it was a little different...
"he pulled my hair, hit me, called me a whore, damn, it was so good, i can complain about him in many ways, except for this one, the son of a bitch made me cum like no one else"
"jesus!" jungkook said, taking a sip of his drink.
okay, things need to be pointed out, yes, jungkook was gorgeous, damn, he was hot, but you had never thought of him as a 'man' he was just your boyfriend's best friend, who always hung out with you at parties, who danced with you on the dance floor, who complimented your clothes and makeup, who complimented your smell, your lip gloss...
"i hope one day i can find someone who fucks me like him," you blurted out.
and jungkook took a deep breath, motivated a little by the drink, but deep down he knew that if it wasn't right then he might never have another chance. i mean, it was crazy, of course it was, who in their right mind would try to have sex with their best friend's ex-girlfriend when it hasn't even been a month since they broke up...
but jungkook wasn't the sanest person at the moment, in fact he never was when it came to you, not when he jerked off in the bathroom of namjoon's parents' beach house last month after seeing you parading around the pool in a red bikini.
"i can fuck you like him, in fact... i can fuck you even better"
"what?" you choked on your own saliva when you heard that.
jungkook took advantage of the fact that your legs were on top of his and started to leave a mischievous caress on your knee
"i told you i can fuck you better than him"
"jungkook..." you scolded him, but deep down that idea excited you.
"hi, love"
"fuck, that's not right"
"why not, why the hell are you so scared to do that?
"it's not for me, it's for you"
"well, i don't care... i've wanted to fuck you for a while now"
you choked again, but before you could say anything, jungkook took the glass from your hand and laid down with his body on top of yours.
you were going to ask again what the hell was that, what the hell was he doing, but jungkook kissed you, and there, fuck any lucid thought you could have.
the taste of wine in his mouth, his hot tongue entering your mouth with voracity, fuck any conscious shit, you needed to fuck with jungkook at that moment.
it was a blur until you were only in your panties underneath him while he sucked your tits, using his hand to play with the free nipple in a somewhat abrupt way, he seemed desperate, in reality, he was desperate, jungkook had been thinking about fucking you for so long that it seemed like a joke from the universe.
he finally took off his shirt and you smiled with his chest exposed, and jungkook just grunted, going back to kissing you while the tie of his shorts hit your waist. you knew he would be big, but nothing expected you for what you saw when he pulled down his shorts with his underwear all at once.
jungkook's cock was big, thick, full of veins and the purple head was already leaking precum. you couldn't hide your scared face when you saw it, making jungkook laugh.
'what's wrong?'
'fuck, that won't fit...'
'yes, it will, love, i'm gonna suck you and open you up for me, you're gonna take every inch of it and be a good girl on my cock!'
you gasped, agreeing, and jungkook laughed again, trailing kisses down your belly until he reached your panties... you quickly lifted your hips, a silent request for him to remove the fabric right away, and he obeyed.
the first thing jungkook did was smell your wet panties, the scene almost made you cum.
"if you taste as good as you smell, fuck, kitten..."
and jungkook sucked your clit, you moaned loudly, holding his hair. it was a mix of desperation and pleasure that you only felt when you had sex while stoned with your ex, and there was jungkook, ok, not 100% sober, but wanting you so fucking much...
you didn't even see when he inserted a finger, but at a certain point you were grabbing the couch's upholstery because he had three fingers inside you while he sucked your clit, your hips lifting desperately seeking more contact, at the same time trying to pull away, jungkook's long hair tickling your belly nicely, the way he put his fingers deeper and deeper...
you saw the ceiling of the room spin, and the next second jungkook had only his mouth on you.
sucking every drop.
you had never been sucked so well, but you were far from satisfied, so you were just grateful when without any prior warning jungkook entered you.
fuck, it burned, he was so fucking big. jungkook laughed, trying to contain his own arousal while you got used to his size. he ran his hand over your nipples, squeezing the tip, rubbing his fingertips on your belly, on your thigh... all while looking at you as if he wanted to devour you... and he did.
"jungkook..."
just his name was enough for him to understand, and then he thrust, his balls hitting you full on made you see stars. and the rhythm only increased, along with the brutality.
"i've wanted you like this for so long, fuck, imagining my cock destroying that tiny pussy"
you grabbed his shoulder, immersed in your own feeling and the noises you were making.
but something took you out of orbit.
ir rather, someone.
the shrill ring of the phone with the name 'namjoon' on the screen. you ignored the first call, the second, but on the third jungkook got irritated, he swiped right and simply accepted the call. your eyes widened, mumbling a 'what?'
but all jungkook said back was an 'answer', stopping his thrusting into you.
you obeyed.
damn the time you obeyed.
"where the fuck are you? why didn't you come to the party?"
"i... hm?"
"i'm asking why you didn't come to this fucking party, i got all dressed up, i bought a fucking bouquet, i bought your favorite chocolate, where the fuck are you?" namjoon was irritated, visibly irritated.
"i..." you tried to answer, fuck, what would you say to him? "i jus-OH" you moaned loudly, when jungkook moved inside you again, a little less aggressive than before, still strong.
you whispered a 'stop' but jungkook ignored it, laughing when you put your hand over your mouth trying not to moan loudly.
"you what?" namjoon questioned from the other side.
"i... i'm not very- very well" you choked on your own moans, while jungkook laughed.
you looked at him desperately, but he just laughed, whispering for you to continue talking on the phone. and of course you could hang up and end it all, but that feeling was so good... you felt like a slut, but you had never felt so good.
jungkook slapped your breasts audibly, enough for namjoon to hear.
"what's going on there?"
"nothing... is just thFUCK, JUNGKOOK!" you screamed without thinking as jungkook thrust even harder, the couch scraping on the living room floor as his balls slammed violently against you.
"wait, what? you said WHAT?"
at this point in the game, fuck any shit, you just ignored your ex-boyfriend, moaning loudly as jungkook fucked you like an animal, you knew namjoon was listening, he was following the line, but fuck any shit, you needed to cum, and thanks to this disgusting situation you would cum soon.
"are you fucking with my best friend? what type of whore are you?"
"my whore." jungkook took the phone from your hand, still thrusting angrily. "i'm fucking her delicious pussy, the one you kept telling me was tight, that it was delicious, fuck, you were right, it's so fucking delicious!"
and jungkook hung up, still laughing at you.
namjoon returned the call, the phone vibrating in jungkook's hand as he laughed evilly.
jungkook pressed the phone to your clit, the vibration being enough to make you cum exactly 10 seconds later, but jungkook went further...
he accepted namjoon's call, only to turn it into a video call, and then show his (maybe now ex) best friend, a video with a perfect angle of him cumming inside you.
before namjoon could say anything, jungkook hung up, his heavy body falling on top of yours.
"fuck that..." you tried to say.
"shhhh, let's think about it later? i just lost my best friend"
"do you regret it?"
"it depends... will I be able to fuck you more often?"
you thought, and it was pretty clear that you wanted to again, so why lie?
"if you want..."
"then no, fuck, i only regret not trying before..."
"u are crazy..." you laughed.
#kooqitas#kooqitas smut#bts#bts x you#bts smut#bts imagine#bts x fem!reader#bts x y/n#bts x reader#bts x oc#bangtan x you#bangtan x reader#bangtan#jungkook smut#jungkook imagines#bts jungkook#jungkook#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x you#jk#jk x you#jk x reader
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@coeurlxss replied: silently hands her a raygun. just gives it to her before returning to check his phone. <3
"OHH! What's this do??" Without a second thought or any doubt she takes the raygun, points it at the nearest light pole and pulls what she can only assume is the trigger. Much like in the sci-fi movies she's stared in a flash of light jumps from the gun. But unlike in her movies the light pole doesn't disintegrate, instead an electrical current is sent through the entire pole until the light bulb pops and sparks of electricity fly out in every direction. Rosa holds her bag up to cover herself and some of Colress from the debris. "Cool!! Thanks Colly! This is why you were always my favorite." Well this and because Ghetsis struck a fear into her heart so primal she swore she was born with it. But who needed to know THAT.
#coeurlxss#❃ in character ❃#((Hope you don't mind me adding my own details to what I thought the raygun would do!#I got the idea of like 'realistic'(ha realistic in the pokemon universe?) rayguns being more like super tasers#and thought that felt like something Colress would make))
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OMG OMG OMG
ok i'm mostly focusing on my polycule i have going on so uh bear with me cause i can ramble (one song per guy bc of this)
1.mike
calico kid - humorus ; smalltown boy - bronski beat ; geyser - mitski
calico kid:
"You’ll see what we all thought you knew Confusing reflection for truth"
you think you know what people think of you; mike is someone that spends a lot of time reflecting on what people think of him, especially as a lgbt middle class boy from small town 80s midwest america. his family isn't the richest but they do live in a place where appearance is important.
this often means he looks for his own faults in what other people see in him, as neglect doesn't leave you with much confidence especially if your support system in 3 other kids and your best friend's mom and older brother when they're poor and probably living paycheck to paycheck.
"Things get hard when your heart is missing Calico, you have known all along Calico Kid you’re not broken Feel so hurt but you’re still hoping"
my S/I doesn't come in until after all their upside down stuff, so this is about will, his best friend, moving to california in 1985. he was lost, depressed, but he hoped that seeing will again would magically fix everything and he can go back to being okay for a while, even knowing he just wants the care will gives him in general
"Why try keeping it inside Let yourself let go, enjoy the ride"
he's autistic, he has a lot of trouble with "presenting correctly" even if he has obvious anger issues. he often struggles sharing his feelings about his trauma because people often brush him off because his default is anger. i help him quite a bit with that in our canon (will and i tackle it together), just learning he can still be loved even if he's hurting and angry and he can enjoy his life
"You’re still waiting for the dogwood trees But these seasons change as they please If you’d take some time to let what is be Then your words can match the world’s melody"
pretty much the same. i'd say he embodies this more towards when we meet, but meeting me is kind of a sign that he won't have to change alone (adding will into it too as soon as i meet him)
2.will
nobody - mitski ; boys don't cry - the cure ; car lights - james marriott
car lights:
"Some more fake smiles, I'll just nod my head For one small glimpse of your breath"
will, my love, has always been a quiet guy. a romantic from the background by silent yearning. he'd rather watch his crushes from afar than actively seek them but he'll also do anything just to spend more time, stay a little longer, talk a little more... "c'mon just one more movie?" softie. and with mike and el (his sister, mike's ex)... he was pushing them together using his own feelings in canon when mike nor el really wanted to date each other but had serious comphet
"Forget my fears, ignore all my frets Just lay your mind on my chest"
he's tactile, though not as much as mike, but like before, just wants to stick as close as he can before he's left behind when his feelings are found out. mike and i love hanging off him so we can convince him to do cuddle piles
"You sure we're out of their sight? They're staring, through the car lights I hate what you're doing, I hate that it feels so"
he's self-conscious, aware of what being gay means for him and with everyone expecting him to be queer, of course he's paranoid despite liking small moments with mike and i even in the forest, our bedrooms, or next to the lake when it's empty.
"I'm not scared there's nothing to run from, well I feel like I'm falling for someone"
technically same as before, but because of all the overt homophobia he's afraid of being in love, of liking someone, even if he knows it's okay (we remind him all the time, though, even when he doesn't ask bc we want him comfortable)
You there. Selfshipper. Tell me what song(s) you associate with your F/O(s), and if you want to, say why! This is an open call to nerd and gush to your heart's content! Bonus if you do full lyric analysis bc that's my jam :)
#i tried and im TIRED#no sleep rawdogging the day at 6 am and caffeine makes me tired i dread work today yolo hope this is entertaining yippee#selfshipper#proselfship#but i love this little game!!!#i love music and i love my boys <3 i love talking about the music i have saved for them#. . . F/O CONTENT#stranger things proship
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My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes
i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:
this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.
the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.
this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.
i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.
for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.
note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!
note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!
with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?
the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.
so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.
these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!
you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.
this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.
let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.
gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:
some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.
for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.
here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.
i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?
i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.
yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.
i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.
i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.
the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.
typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!
this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.
let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.
just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?
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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.
#umi writes ♡︎#love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#sylus x reader#love and deepspace smut#sylus#sylus x reader smut#l&ds smut#lads#loveanddeepspace#lnds#l&ds#l&ds xavier#xavier x reader#xavier lads#xavier love and deepspace#lads xavier#lads smut#love and deepspace x reader#love and deep space x reader#love and deep space smut#love and deep space sylus
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𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | boyfriend's dad!cillian murphy x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | for some reason, your first instinct after the breakup was to talk to his parents; maybe because you'd come sort of uniquely close to them, for a relatively short relationship. you might not have gone to their house if you'd known you'd find mr. murphy there alone...
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ ONLY!! unprotected sex, creampie, oral m and f receiving), age gap (reader's age unspecified, cillian is 45+), hurt/comfort (but, you know, sexual comfort), infidelity, slight manipulation/coercion since the reader is very vulnerable at the time, somewhat inexperienced reader, degradation and praise, a little bit of breathplay, hair pulling, slight dacryphilia?, reader is slightly implied to be an immigrant/foreigner
note: yes I use his real name but this is just fiction and not meant to have anything to do with the real cillian murphy or his life/family so please keep that in mind!
He had a smile on his face as he opened the door and greeted you, but it fell instantly when he saw you biting down on your quivering lip, looking down to hide how red and watery your eyes were.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, voice heavy with concern as he reached out and rubbed your shoulder. "Oh, god— come in, come in— what's going on?"
He ushered you into the house, shutting the door behind you and wrapping his arm around you as you sniffled. "I-I'm sorry—" you began instantly. “I thought— I don’t know why I even came here…”
But, actually, you sort of did. You’d been wanting to talk to Cillian’s wife, hoping for some motherly advice, until he answered the door and you abruptly remembered she was in England on business for a week or something. And you couldn’t exactly show up on somebody’s doorstep crying and say ‘oh, sorry, I thought your wife would be home— I’ll come back in a few days’.
You weren’t disappointed by running into him instead, really, you just felt a little weirder about it. The two of you had never actually been alone before.
"Don't apologise," he soothed, "it's okay, just tell me what's happened. Are you alright?"
"Yeah," you sighed, trying to compose yourself a bit as he guided you to sit on the couch with him. "Yeah, I'm okay, I just... um, well, it's sort of stupid—"
"I'm sure it's not," he offered with a small laugh, "if it's got you this worked up."
"We, um... I think we broke up?"
"What?" he breathed, knitting his eyebrows together— he cared more than you expected... but it sort of made sense, Mr. Murphy had always made you feel welcome here. Mrs. Murphy too, maybe ina different way. Yes, it's bizarre to respond to being dumped by going to visit the guy's parents, you needed a sort of... mature, familial presence right now while you were so far from your own.
You took him through the whole drama as efficiently as possible, trying to regulate your crying so he could actually attempt to make out what you were saying. He listened thoughtfully, perhaps with too much attention compared to what you expected— after all, this was stupid college drama and he was so much more mature than all that. Still, you appreciated a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.
"And, uh, that's how he ended it," you finished with a sigh, sniffling as you recalled the heartbreaking conversation. "He basically told me that he's too young to be stuck with one person, and he needs to 'explore his options'..."
"Then he's an idiot," Cillian groaned, "and I hate to say that about my own son— but he's a fuckin' idiot."
"Well," you mumbled, "I don't know— I thought maybe he had a point. I mean, we're pretty young..."
"But look at you, honey," he offered pityingly, "you can't tell me this is what you wanted."
"No, but—"
"And yes, you're young," he added, "but not too young— not if it's real."
You bit your lip to stop it from shaking any more, and he cooed at you gently as he reached up to rub your shoulder.
“Poor girl,” he breathed. “Honestly, I always… well, maybe I shouldn’t say it now…”
You looked up at him expectantly, and he smiled nervously as he glanced away.
“Well… I guess I always thought that you could do better,” he admitted with a soft laugh, “but, you know, I didn’t want to say anything, of course. He was lucky to have you, and I just hoped he would treat you right, but…”
“I thought I was the lucky one,” you replied with a thin smile and another little sniffle. “He could be really sweet, you know— he used to be. And I always thought he was, uh, sort of… you know, out of my league.”
“Oh, honey, no,” Cillian frowned, moving his hand up to your face and holding your cheek, wiping a small tear away with his thumb. “You’re gorgeous.”
You laughed awkwardly, not sure what to think— or how to think— with him looking at you like that. “I… I don’t know, you’re sweet, but—”
“No, really,” he assured, and only when you met his gaze did you realise how close he was. You wouldn’t call it too close, only because it didn’t bother you like you knew it should. “You’re so beautiful.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing actually came out… there was nothing to say. He was coming closer, you knew it, and you wanted to reach up to stop him just as much as you wanted to shut your eyes and give into it. You ended up sort of splitting the difference: you rested your hands on his shoulders, but didn’t push him away, and gasped slightly just before he kissed you. Even a second of resistance could’ve given you some plausible deniability, but no, you fluttered your eyes shut and kissed him back; it didn’t help that you could feel how warm and strong he was through the t-shirt, holding on tighter to his shoulders with a hum.
His hands wandered to your waist, pulling you into him— and you were like putty, embarrassingly enough. With him kissing you like that, you really couldn’t do anything but let him pull you around wherever he wanted. His lips were soft and gentle, his tongue teased you so carefully, and he even sighed against your skin in the sweetest way… you were totally helpless already.
Sure, some part of you knew how fucking bizarre this was— that you were kissing Mr. Murphy, your boyfriend’s dad— well… ex-boyfriend’s. You weren’t blind, you noticed how attractive he was when you met him, but you’d managed to successfully ignore it since then. It made sense, after all, since the first thing you’d noticed about your boyfriend was his good looks… but Mr. Murphy was handsome in a totally different way. Strong and broad— not especially massive or anything, still a lean guy— with thin streaks of grey in his hair, a patient sort of smile, subtle wrinkles around his eyes that added a sense of wisdom to his expression… really, he was a bit more of your type. But that was something you had forced yourself not to acknowledge— until now.
You sat up slightly, holding onto his neck, breathing in sharply through your nose as you kissed him back a little harder. You could feel him smiling— god, even just that made you feel so desperate— and he even moaned ever-so-quietly when you ran your fingers through his hair.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed against your lips, breaking away just enough to make you open your eyes— his lashes seemed especially long as he looked down at your legs curled up on the couch (and his hands petting them slowly. “You haven’t been treated properly for a long time, have you?”
You whined in the back of your throat involuntarily as you nodded— how could he see right through you like that? It wasn’t like it was bad with your ex, it was just… not good. Not enough. You wanted to feel wanted, not used— not a means to an end.
“Will you let me?” he asked softly, breathing beside your ear on his way in to kiss your neck. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close, head falling back to give him as much of you as he wanted. His tongue was fucking fiendish, the way he used it to tickle along your pulse, the sharpness of his teeth making you jolt only for him to soothe you with his plush lips.
“Yes,” you panted, “fuck— I, god, I can’t believe we’re doing this…”
He laughed a little. “I can,” he admitted. “All I could fucking think about since I met you…”
That surprised you— you’d never noticed anything that would’ve made you think he thought of you that way… but knowing that he, apparently, had made a shiver run up your spine.
He certainly hid it well, playing the part of the slightly-embarrassing dad and polite husband so well that you never would’ve known… oh god, his wife. You didn’t want to think of her now, yet the unavoidable memory stirred arousal alongside guilt in your gut. You had no idea you were this sort of person— but you weren’t really operating logically right now, anyway.
He held your face again as he pulled back, petting your cheek— it made you feel especially juvenile when he did that, holding your chin to examine you. This wasn’t really the ideal state for you to be looked at, in your opinion, with you having been crying all evening. But he looked amazed by you, even if it was just for a moment before he looked down at your body and smirked.
“Take this off,” he instructed, tugging at your shirt slightly. You thought it would’ve been a little more romantic if he helped you out of it, but it was alternatively a bit sexier that he was just going to sit back and watch you strip for him. It must have been his way of demonstrating his power over you, that you were just going to take it off and toss it aside without question. Which, of course, you did.
He smiled proudly at the sight, and before you could even get your bra off, he started to carefully tease you through it— fingers running around the edge, moving the straps off your shoulders, tickling up your sides as you shifted nervously on the couch.
“Look’t that,” he whispered proudly, and you took a second to realise that he was referring to your nipples getting hard enough to poke visibly through the fabric; you felt self-conscious all of a sudden, even if he was clearly enjoying what he was seeing. “So needy, huh?”
“Y-yeah,” you admitted, whining when he reached inside the cups and ran his fingers over your breasts— they usually weren’t so sensitive. “Fuck,” you breathed, shutting your eyes as a way to try to escape his gaze. “I… I need you.”
“Fuck, baby, don’t talk like that,” he groaned, “m’gonna try to take my time with you— how am I supposed to do that if you say such lovely things?”
His lips were on your neck again— and he was leaning you back, laying you down under him, tugging your shorts down with a bit more urgency than he’d had before.
When you were basically naked— or at least, your bra and panties pushed out of the way enough that he could see what he needed to— he purred at the sight, grinning as you hastily undressed yourself the rest of the way.
"Of course he couldn't appreciate this," Cillian sighed, baring his teeth just a bit. "Of course he couldn't appreciate a perfect fucking body like this— a perfect little pussy like this..."
You were about to open your mouth to say something, though you hadn't even decided yet what it would be, but only a low moan came out when he held your legs open and dove between them, humming as he lapped at your clit. You couldn't imagine why you were so sensitive, but your whole body was shaking already just from the gentlest motions of his tongue...
"Fuck," he said, muffled against your skin, before he pulled back enough to bite playfully on your thigh. "Fuck, darling, you taste delicious. Christ. You're too perfect..."
He devoured you again, exploring all over you with his tongue as your thighs kept instinctively clamping down on his head. He kept looking up at you through it all, even when you couldn't stand to meet his gaze and had to arch your back from the pleasure. "Fuck!" you yelped, grabbing tightly onto his hair. "Fuck, Mr. Murphy, I— oh, god..."
"He never made you come like this, did he?" Cillian realised with a groan, nearly growling when you shook your head. "Has anyone?"
"N-no," you shakily admitted, and he moaned around you as he suckled harder on your clit for a moment until you whined loudly.
"Oh, poor thing," he cooed, "how could anyone taste this sweet cunt of yours, and not want to spend hours between your legs?"
He didn’t need to spend hours, though— the taboo nature of the situation seemed to turn your body into overdrive, making you so sensitive and desperate… or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, but it was hard to say.
The point is, all too soon, you were shivering under him, back arching up off the couch, holding on tightly to his hair. He hummed approvingly, even moaning against you as he slid his tongue inside; he must have been able to feel you pulsing, moving closer and closer to the edge, because he shut his eyes tight and seemed to focus harder and pushing you further until you couldn’t take anymore.
“Fuck, fuck!” you sobbed, thighs shaking around his head; there really was no exploration to it, no teasing, he just went right in and expertly played you like he’d done this a thousand times. Maybe he had… but, obviously, he’d never done it to you. Were you that easy to solve?
Obviously, that question suddenly became the last thing on your mind as your orgasm wracked through you. He growled encouragingly, still keeping his pace, but you could barely hear it past the ringing in your ears— and your own cries of his name, of course.
He only broke away when your squirms turned into real avoidance: you could only take so much, especially with him suckling on your clit like that.
You were almost nervous to open your eyes again— and you were right, he looked so gorgeous between your legs, obviously smug with having just made you come, it was nearly criminal.
“Is it really that easy to make you come, honey?” he laughed, petting your legs sweetly as he pulled back, looking up at you with a proud grin. “That’s so fucking cute, baby…”
As he sat up again, wiping the slick off his mouth with the back of his hand, you got this weird, clingy feeling— wanting to chase him even just as he barely moved away.
But he’d sat up for a reason, and you started to realise it when you sat up, too, and noticed the thick bulge in his jeans.
"Why don't you show me what you can do, sweetheart?" he encouraged with a smile, opening his belt for you. "I'm sure you've learned a thing or two..."
Though you still felt terribly nervous about it, you leaned forward towards his lap. Would it be awful to admit your mouth watered when he freed his cock from his jeans and boxers, holding it out for you as a little bead of precum formed at the tip?
"Show me, baby," he whispered again, "and look up at me."
You nervously blinked up at him, meeting his gaze from his lap, as you wrapped your lips around his swollen head. He bit his lip right away and reached up to hold onto your hair, groaning as you swirled your tongue.
"Fuck," he smirked, "you're sort of a tease, aren't you?"
You weren't trying to be, really, but it didn't sound like he minded too much...
"Oh, fuck," he moaned deeply, making you pulse inside as he tilted his head back. "Fuck, baby, that's good— your mouth is so fucking warm..."
He gasped and panted as he held your head, guiding it to bob just a little faster than you had been moving. "Sweetheart," he choked, "you're so fucking good... fuck!"
The praise made your chest fill with warmth, even if there was still some part of your brain that was recovered enough from the orgasm to remember how horrible this all was. It was horrible, but perfect— and feeling his cock throb against your tongue was perfect, too.
You’d never been told you were so good at this before, but he kept moaning and petting your head encouragingly, whispering the most wonderful and filthy things. “Just like that, honey,” he cooed, “mm— pretty thing… knew that mouth of yours would feel so fuckin’ good… just keep sucking my cock, sweetheart.”
That you did— harder and faster, stroking what your mouth couldn’t fit, moaning softly around him. As you tried to take it deeper, desperate to please him, you gagged on his thick head.
“God, it’s so cute when you choke on it, baby,” he chuckled. “Do it again.”
This time it was almost too much, but he held your head down and groaned deeply. It would’ve bothered you more— not being able to breathe— if he didn’t sound so sexy right then…
Thankfully, he pulled you off just in time, making you yelp as he held you by your hair— only to kiss you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Moaning, you melted into his arms, and let him guide you to straddle his lap. Feeling his jeans against your thighs and his shirt against your chest made your heart skip.
He took another long look at you when he broke away, a new darkness in his bright eyes.
“You’re so sexy,” he laughed softly, running his hands over your nude form and raising a brow as he watched goosebumps break out over your skin. “God, I need to be inside you…”
You bit down on your lip but it didn’t do much to suppress your whimper; lifting yourself up a bit, you grasped his cock and slid it through your folds, guiding him to your entrance.
You both gasped when he slipped inside, even when it was the slightest penetration— his whole head wasn’t in yet, and you just knew it would stretch you more than you were used to.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned loudly, tilting his head back, “you’re so wet, sweetheart…”
Lowering yourself, you took in a shaky breath, whining slightly as he opened you up one inch at a time... and each one seemed somehow thicker than the last. His fingers seemed to dig deeper into the skin at your hips and ass the lower that you sank onto him.
You could barely believe that you took it all; that you relaxed into his lap fully even when you feared being split in half by how thick he was. “Oh my god,” you blurted out, operating on instinct as you started to move— grinding back and forth, desperate for friction despite having been satisfied by his incredible mouth just a few minutes ago.
"Fuck, there you go," he encouraged with a growl, looking down at your hips rocking in his lap. "Ride me, just like that— fuck, ride my cock, little fuckin' whore..."
You whimpered at the insult, holding tighter onto his shoulders, but it only made you move faster. "S-so... so deep, Mr. Murphy," you whimpered.
"Yeah? You can take it," he promised darkly, holding tighter onto your waist as he dropped his head back with a low groan. "God, you're tight— fuck."
You gasped as he bucked his hips up, creating more pressure against your over-sensitive clit. "Oh, fuck," you breathed, struggling to cope with all the sensations he was giving you.
Both of you settled on the right pace, and he switched between resting his head back against the couch (giving you a nice view of his gorgeous neck, how could just a neck be so sexy?!) and looking down to watch you go. “So fuckin’ cute,” he praised— though you were sort of surprised to hear him describe you that way at a time like this. “So needy, honey… you want more, don’t you? You wanna go even faster.”
Now that he said it: yeah, you did. You bounced up and down, your moans coming out all shaky and uneven because of the movement, and he grinned proudly.
His hands wandered up from your waist to your chest, groping you eagerly as you gasped out his name in response. “Love these tits of yours,” he informed you, sounding oddly sweet for how dirty of a compliment it was. “Took everything in me not to stare at them when you’d come over for dinner… see what you do to me, sweetheart? Haven’t felt this desperate since I was your age.”
Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing, reminding you of how much older he was at a time like this. He purred when he felt you clench on him, obviously affected by the comment.
“Should’ve known you’d give in right away,” he went on, softening his voice to nearly a whisper as he watched you move with heavy eyes; you angled your hips back and moaned louder, his cock rubbing against just the right spot every time now. “Hungry little thing like you— now I wish I hadn’t waited so long. We could’ve been doing this the whole time… I could’ve shown you how much better it can be, when somebody really takes care of you.”
Whimpering, you felt another heady pang inside you— if he kept talking like that, you wouldn’t be able to keep your head on straight… then again, the fact that you were here proved that you were less stable than you thought.
“Faster, sweetheart,” he ordered again suddenly. “I wanna see how desperate you can get.”
You furrowed your brows together, almost pouting, but did exactly what he wanted— you wondered if you looked as pathetic as you sounded, riding him recklessly, chasing another peak even when it took all of your strength in those shaking legs.
He grabbed you by the jaw and guided you into another desperate kiss— all teeth and tongue and low moans. “Good fucking girl,” he snarled. “Good little slut.”
“Fuck,” you panted, moving faster. “Fuck, I’m close—”
“I know, honey,” he cooed, nodding as he moved his hand down to your neck. “Show me how bad you need it, sweetheart. Let me see it, I wanna see you come for me.”
Tossing your head back, you cried out his name again— why did you always do that when you came?— and felt it overtake you. It was even heavier than the last one, even more numbing and draining, and you didn’t even notice how hard you were digging your nails into his shoulders.
When your body failed and you came to a shaky stop, he didn’t give you much time to catch your breath: he grabbed you tight, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder, and began to buck his hips up into you quickly.
“Oh my god, oh my god!” you whined, overwhelmed by the feeling, holding onto him tightly just to have something to keep you grounded.
“Fuck, m’gonna come inside you,” he warned with a growl. “Gonna fill you, baby, you’ll be so fuckin’ full of my come—”
You sobbed and buried your face in his neck, starting to cry again for a completely different reason than before.
“Tell me you want it,” he ordered, speaking roughly right against your ear.
“F-fuck, I want it,” you gasped, “I want you to come— fuck— come inside me—”
He choked out a few more swears, he held you tight enough that you started to imagine what his bruises would look like on you tomorrow, and with a low groan of your name, it all suddenly slowed to a stop. You moaned weakly when you felt his cock flexing against your walls, even more heat pooling inside you. With what little energy you had left, you softly kissed his neck— until he seemed to come back to reality and pushed you back enough to be face-to-face with you again.
You realised suddenly that you were still sort of crying from the intensity of it all, and got nervous with him staring at you like that. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled as you wiped your face.
“Don’t apologise,” he told you again, moving your hands away so he could look at you himself. “Besides, you look even cuter when you cry.”
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OOO YES YES!! Very interesting insights!!
I like the theory that each half carried over the physical practicality they were used for! Like muscle memory in a way! That slots in pretty well with what I think is going on with him, since Dan is literally the worst parts of each halfa. Vlad described Danny being "overwhelmed by his evil half" but really, it's just the culmination of their most negative traits! Something I never got to in my Clockwork timeline post is how; everytime we're shown Fenton being separate from Phantom it's had some weird side effects on each personality, so if the gauntlets were specifically trying to get rid of his negative emotions, it would concentrate them all in whatever he removed, which could explain why Phantom's first reaction was to immediately attack Vlad after being separated, and why the merge did what it did. I'd like to hazard since Dan is created mostly from Vlad and Danny's negative emotions, he only has strong impressions of certain things which is why his memory is so bad JHGDJFJHD (Idk how common a theory this is within the fandom, so sorry if I'm just repeating info you know o7)
I think the disdain he holds for both his half human counter-parts is interesting, cause both Danny and Vlad were kinda self-absorbed (Danny much less so than Vlad, but it was there for both of them), so turning around and holding pure spite and hatred for what he used to be (outside feeling like he got the short end of the destiny stick) is a very interesting 180 turn to take, the hatred both halves had for the other person manifesting in an interesting way!
Also you're 100% correct about the portal ability being a rare one, otherwise I think there'd be way more ghost activity in general in the human realm before the events of the show (And there HAS been enough to warrant several ghost hunting teams to form in other places and to cause Maddie and Jack to research it, but it's still rare enough hardly anyone can properly deal with the pure saturation in Amity, or know really anything about ghosts in general, not to mention all of Amity thinking the Fenton's were crazy for trying to study ghosts before attacks started happening more often). Also, honorable mention to Johnny being super angry Danny ruined the mini-portal creation device he stole from Jack and Maddie, since that meant he couldn't come and go as he pleased. Most of the ghosts in the show have to rely on a natural spawning portal, or a man-made one to get through
I always assumed Valerie didn't know Phantom was Fenton in the apocalyptic future. I do enjoy the thought of her knowing tho, the show's vague enough I'm good with each! Btw, have you read "Jeremiad" by Firefury_Amahira? If you, haven't I highly recommend it, it focuses on the ten year time-gap between the NB explosion and the future we see in TUE :] (The whole saga is worth reading too imo, I like it a lot!)
Onto the bit about powers, Vlad is actually shown to have some form of electric power that he also uses to short out Danny's ghost abilities, so it'd make sense if Dan got that too! I could also see this little affinity for electricity morphing to also cover fire after the merge and give him some control over that since both are just energy in different forms! In universe it's funny to think about the stark contrast between Danny and Dan in this way, they're complete opposites and I love how that reflects their powers as well! Even if it was unintentional. I do think the ground changing between different states of matter is more in line with Clockwork's abilities rather than Dan's, but whose to say. I saw a post somewhere talking about different ghosts with different power levels having different colored abilities, like how Vlad's are magenta and stuff? I can't remember all the details off the top of my head, but it's somewhere, so I could see (outside of aesthetic reasons) the blue indicating some sort of power lvl
The time medallion thing messes me up, cause Tucker DID make it seem like there was a potential he could figure out how to manipulate it's properties for their use, and Dan somehow managed to do that without even needing to really mess with it, which would imply he's used one to do something similar before. But if that were the case there's no consequences of that showing up anywhere. If Dan had managed to go back in time before with one of the medallions, why didn't he use it to change anything? And you could argue that he might not have seen fit to change anything, but that's not very in line with his characterization at all. He loves to trash shit and fuck it up just for the sake of it.
Thanks for sharing!! :]
Hi hi hi, I would love to hear more of your Dan thoughts! I'm intrigued!!!
>:]!!!!!!!!!! >:D!!!!!!
Ok ok so I've never really tried to put my thoughts into words before so this might be a bit of a mess usually I'm just rotating him in my mind but yes yes yes I have Dan thoughts I want to share my Dan thoughts
I only focus on agit at the end so this is pretty spoiler free for that I think maybe. Thumbs up emoji
Dan is a fun character because despite only having one episode we can still tell alot about his personality and such, as he's rather bold with it and is a fusion of two characters we do see alot, and it really shows! I flip between saying Dan or more Danny than Vlad and saying that they're basically equal in the fusion, but I think a good way to describe it is that he takes different aspects from them, for his appearance and memories he very much takes after Danny, but his personality and how he acts n talks oozes Vlad. Yknow??? If I'm saying the right words here. Dan works so well as a fusion because he also manages to feel like his own character as well
Dan is made from the two's ghost halves, so I'm a fan of the theory/thought I do believe I've seen before that he's based on the ghost halves. Like. Vlad used his ghost form and powers for scheming, attacking, gaining power, and so on, I'd easily imagine he doesn't use it nearly as much as Danny. Danny had to use his ghost form mostly for fighting other ghosts, very frequently, and also used his powers for his own benefit as well, though not nearly as extreme as Vlad. As Danny was in his ghost form more, and as it was more connected to his ghost form (phantom just being an inverted Danny VS Vlad's completely different from himself ghost form, even down to body type) it makes sense why Dan would be more Danny focused, especially in terms of his relationship with others and memories. Vlad's things don't matter to him nearly as much. I mean, he seemingly couldn't find Vlad's new hideout that was under a Welcome to Wisconsin sign, and its ghost zone entrance behind a football
"The only remaining portal, the one my idiot cheesehead archenemy has? As soon as I find it that's going too."
He doesn't respect Vlad in the slightest or seem to care about him. Danny found Vlad's portal almost immediately. So either Dan simply couldn't remember things Vlad liked well enough to guess, and/or, he truly couldn't care less and didn't bother too hard with the search. Both makes sense, and since Vlad is fully human that very likely adds to the contempt and not seeing him as threat enough to find the portal quickly.
Something interesting, is the fact Dan knows Vlad had a portal at all, Dan partially destroyed Vlad's castle after being formed and its clearly in a different location now, unless that cave Vlad is in streaches all the way to his castle's basement Dan hasn't bothered checking? Which is. Unlikely. Which means Vlad had to make a new one. And Dan knew he did. Much to think about there I believe.
I do also think Dan actually doesn't remember his past terribly well. I know I know I just said he's focused on Danny's memories and life, and he is! But also. Its a bit separated from him, the episode itself actually points out him forgetting things about his family several times, it really does feel like they're trying to stress to you, really hammer it in that he's forgotten them some way. It's mentioned offhand like 2 or 3 times.
When Jazz confronts him and admits she knew about his ghost powers he says "You knew?" So??? Softly???? Like PLEASE listen to that line especially after hearing how he usually talks oh my GOSH??!?!!?!?!?! AUGH. slamming my hands on the floor I could make a whole separate thing just thinking of that interaction alone. God. He never knew she knew, it took him by genuine surprise for a moment. And just????? Augh??!???!?!!?!?! He had one family member always in his corner and secretly looking out for him, she believed in him and knew he was trying to do good and she had been waiting for him to reveal it to her in his own time but that time never came because she'd died and haiabsjahasguaaaai u ghjjfhdhfjshauhghhhhh
When Danny enters the future Valerie immediately thinks he Dan, she doesn't question it in the slightest, or question him saying "I have really bad feeling im the one responsible". Before attacking she says "You can't fool me this time Phantom". I take this as either meaning Dan has disguised himself as a young Phantom before, or Valerie is so used to his tricks and and finding new powers that him suddenly looking younger doesn't phase her in the slightest. I do like the idea him disguising as a young Phantom before more. It seems very probable considering he can be Danny Fenton. But this interaction also makes me wonder if Valerie knows, or ever learned that Fenton is Phantom, the trick from before easily could've been Fenton. "The explosion at the Nasty Burger, you, Tucker, Danny's family- and it was all your fault!" She's points her blaster at Phantom while saying that last bit. It makes me wonder if her saying "Danny's family" is showing how she doesn't know he's Danny. There's still other options like her knowing but not admitting he's Fenton, or her knowing he was Danny once but isn't anymore, hence saying "Danny's family" instead of something like "his family". Honestly, her knowing or not are both equally likely. As I said in my tags before, Dan seems to like to get a rise out of people, to get a reaction, he very easily could've told her in an attempt to anger or devastate her, and at the same time he simply could've not bothered at all. I think I prefer the option of her not knowing personally
I don't think I could describe Dan more concisely than I did before, he likes to get a rise out of people, revel in reactions. He twists the past to credit himself for the Nasty Burger explosion after he more than likely blamed himself for it as Danny. He likes to seem in control. He's dramatic. He hates being insulted. Hates losing. He's very casual about alot of things he does.
He caused destruction in both the human and ghost world, the first thing he did upon entering Amity was completely destroy the ghost portal, with plans to destroy Vlad's. I'm not sure what his plan in the end was, but after destroying both portals, I must point out that Dan has the power to summon his own ghost portal with ease, a power I believe is quite rare, I think other than Dan only Wulf has it, though do feel free to correct me on that. So he would've been one of the only people who could go in or out
He was actively trying to/did ruin the lives of the ghosts he knew
Powers. Ohhh boy powers. When I started my DP rewatch my initial plan was to actually take note of every power Danny uses to know what he can do, and by extension Dan. I didn't. Oopsies. So most I can focus on here are what Dan shows in the episode, other than the obvious
I do like thinking on ice powers, and what that means with Dan, obviously he's never shown to know them as they're not introduced until season 3, the writers themselves didn't know it'd happen lol. But in universe, that's something to chew on, Dan never met Frostbite, so if he ever unlocked this power he would've had to figure out the problem and train it on his own, and then there's the potential that Dan never learned, and the ability for ice powers eluded him due to fusion. The ghost sense is a result of his ice powers after all, and Dan's ghost sense isn't a breath of cold blue air, so that could be a sign of this power being one he doesn't have
But moving onto more straightforward powers
Dan destroyed Amity Park in a very short amount of time, all on his own, as while the Fright Knight had been there after the shield went down, he's simply never seen again after that, makes me think Dan just ordered Fright Knight to chase Valerie to Fentonworks and leave after
Related to Amity Park, while there are other destroyed buildings around, the land surrounding the ghost portal is a completely barren wasteland, no doubt from Dan's attempts at destroying the forcefield over the years, and simply scaring residents.
One could argue Dan was the reason lighting was striking around the forcefield, weather manipulation I wouldn't doubt is in his wheelhouse, especially since he's shown to have electrocution powers, at least it looks that way to me
Dan has fire powers, at least immunity to fire. Fire rises after he enters the lab through the cracks he put in the floor, and when he's thrown into truck it bursts into flame. Both instances of the fire happening I suppose you call coincidence, but his immunity to fire at least is undeniable
Dan can force Danny to detransform, and shorted out Danny's powers while holding onto him. This is also the moment where it seems like mild electrocution
Dan can suspend people in ectoplasm, Sam and Tucker also seem frozen completely for a scene, and in a later scene move their heads n such around
He can use a time medallion to enter the exact time and place he needs/where Sam and Tucker went
He specifically used the word fused to describe putting the amulet in Danny, which I find interesting. Entering something while intangible seems to be what causes fusion. Though more to it than that since ghosts can possess other ghosts (or was that a special case since the only example I know is Poindexter possessing a still half ghost Danny🤔)
Dan can form ropes of ectoplasm that can wrap around and trap people, as well as using ecto energy to cover people's mouths to stop talking
Dan is very resilient, I mean, he literally flys through a light pole non-intagabily and doesn't even react. He, while injured from it, did pretty much tank 1 ghostly wail, and still got up after the second, but was weak enough after to be sucked into the thermos
Dan seems to have minor technology powers, nothing major, but like, he does make himself appear on Valerie's watch so he can tell her about the ghostly wail
The ghostly wail of course, which is naturally much stronger than Danny's version. Can destroy nearly all glass in future Amity Park, destroys all the ghost shield towers one by one in a line, makes the Fentonworks building fall down when directly hit. Flips tanks and makes helicopters lose control. Destroyed Ember's vocal cords somehow
He can duplicate himself very easily, and become one again with the same ease. He turns into to a gas form to dodge Valerie's grenades
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I don't have the time to focus on his behavior in AGiT rn, but it lines up with my thoughts. I do like the confirmation that Dan wanted Danny to suffer as he had/didn't think it fair for Danny to get a second chance to save his family. And it deeply trapped by his own emotions and just unwilling to admit it. I can still skim the book to think about powers. I put AGiT powers in this own little section to be skipped if you don't want spoilers
-He 100% has fire powers no doubt about it now
-I should've described his ability to suspend people in ectoplasm as telekinesis
-Can make shields, usually briefly and by swiping his arm
-When Dan emerges from the rubble, he briefly turns it into lava, and then water, I cannot be sure if this is because of having Clockwork's powers, or just his own at work
-His powers seem to turn blue rather than green, but its hard to tell for certain. But we do know his fire is blue so it's not completely out
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In conclusion I'm very normal about him and have watched TUE a reasonable amount of times thank you amd goodnight <3 (lying voice)
#DannyPhantom#He's literally so fucked up I love him <3#Hope you don't mind me adding on my own thoughts!!
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In Paris, With You...
Pairing : Drew Starkey x Reader
Summary : What starts as a playful tease from your best friend, Timothée about a crush quickly turns into an unforgettable night. Being invited to the Loewe fashion show in Paris, leads you to get tangled in your sheets with Drew.
Themes : Fluff/Smut
Word Count : 4346
Note : I am apologizing in advance bc it's my first time writing a fic that long, along with first attempt at writing smut and for drew in general!!! I tried my best, even tho i think i wrote more about timmys and taylors relationship i hope you enjoy!! Not proofreaded!!
"I wish you would get invited to Loewe’s fashion show in Paris,” Timothée said, his lips curling into a playful smile as he picked at a piece of sushi on his plate. The familiar hum of the restaurant around you made the moment feel even more personal, like the world outside was a distant dream, a comfortable quiet between you, only interrupted by the clinking of plates as the waiter brought over a fresh round of sushi.
Your place—our place, you thought—was a small, hidden sushi restaurant in New York, a cozy spot where you two came to unwind, laugh, and share stories you couldn’t share with anyone else. It was a place you and Timothée had claimed as your own since your careers first took off. A lot has changed since then. Starring in Luca Guadagnino’s movie “Challengers” and seeing your career take off at just 22, was truly amazing.
He leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes, narrowing them at you like he was about to reveal a grand secret. “That way, you could meet your lover boy,” he teased, adding a dramatic hand movements with his chopsticks.
You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the flush creeping up your neck. “You want me to go to Loewe’s show just because of Drew starkey? I don’t even like him like that.”
Timmy raised an eyebrow, the smirk widening. “Lies, lies, lies,” he sang, his voice dripping with mock accusation. You hated how well he knew you—sometimes better than you knew yourself.
“Whatever,” you muttered, stabbing at your own sushi defensively as you put down your chopsticks. “Do you know who’s the brand ambassador of Loewe?”
The shift in Timothée’s expression was instant, his face scrunching up in a mix of guilt and annoyance, as if he knew exactly where this conversation was heading. He sighed dramatically, but before he could stop you…-
“The most gorgeous woman you fumbled because of you know who – the one who shall not be named,” you said, letting the word her hang in the air, dripping with emphasis.
There was no need to explain further. He knew exactly who you meant. You watched as his shoulders sagged slightly, but the smirk stayed on his face, though now it was more resigned than mischievous.
“Low blow,” he muttered, and you both burst into laughter, the memory of his ill-fated relationship hanging between you like a shared joke.
Who knew that Timothée’s big mouth could sense the future? But here you were, sitting in a car, watching the skyline of Paris blur past as you headed toward Loewe’s fashion show. It was almost too surreal, the memory of that sushi restaurant conversation lingering in the back of your mind.
You glanced over at Timmy, who was typing something on his phone, his thumb moving in rapid, practiced motions. He looked up for a second and grinned. "See? I told you. Here we are, ready for your lover boy," he teased, leaning back in his seat, eyes glinting with mischief.
You couldn’t stop the eye roll that followed. "I swear, you have an obsession with that phrase. But we don't even know if he'll be there."
"You hope he’ll be there," Timmy quipped, nudging your shoulder playfullly.
You tried to suppress a smile, but it was useless. Yes, you hoped. Drew Starkey had become a quiet fixation in your mind—there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was his blue eyes, his charisma, his –
Your hands smoothed over the fabric of your dress, custom-made by Loewe, every stitch and detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Jonathan Anderson had made sure it reflected not only the brand’s style but also you—soft yet bold, striking but elegant. You looked stunning, and you knew it.
The car ride felt both too long and too short, your mind spinning with what-ifs. Timmy, noticing your quiet, serious for once, put his phone away and turned to face you. "Hey," he said gently. "We can ditch it if you want. No fashion show and no boy is worth you eating your nerves over."
You smiled softly at him. That was the thing about Timothée—he knew when to be playful, and he knew when to be serious. He knew you. "I know," you said, your voice quiet but steady. "But I’ll be fine. Besides, you’d be miserable if you missed the after party later.”
Timmy shrugged with a grin. "Yeah, you’re probably right. But seriously, if you want to go, we’ll go. If you want to leave, we’ll leave."
You appreciated that more than you could say, but instead of responding, you looked out the window. The car slowed to a stop, and the reality of the situation hit you. The cameras, the people, the flashing lights—it was all waiting just outside.
"Ready?" Timmy asked, holding out his hand like a knight in shining armor.
You took a deep breath and nodded, slipping your hand into his. "As ready as I'll ever be."
The fashion show itself was a whirlwind. Lights, camera flashes, the hum of conversation blending with the soft music in the background. But amidst the glamour, you were determined to keep your distance from Drew. Every time you caught a glimpse of his tall frame, you did your best to blend into the crowd and focus on the runway.
Timothée, couldn’t resist teasing you about Drew, his playful remarks making it even harder to stay composed. Despite your heart fluttering every time you heard his soft laugh, you managed to keep your cool, or at least you hoped you did.
The show itself was a visual feast, with stunning outfits by Loewe that left everyone in awe. Timothée was in his element, charming everyone he spoke to, effortlessly gliding through the crowd. Yet, you could tell he was also trying hard to avoid running into Taylor Russell.
You couldn’t miss how his eyes flickered toward her now and then, a flash of something in his expression that only you could read. But you gave him space, knowing that whatever was going on between them was its own delicate web.
You exchanged polite smiles and laughed at jokes, did your best to keep up but your thoughts always circled back to one thing: Drew Starkey.
You both succeeded in your mission during the show. But as the show came to a close and the after-party beckoned, the sense of triumph was short-lived.
The after-party was a different beast altogether. And there, at the heart of it, was Drew Starkey, mingling with his entourage and catching your eye from time to time. Despite your best efforts, you felt the electric pull of his gaze, the gravity of his presence impossible to ignore.
Timmy noticed, of course. "We can leave, you know, get a take out" he offered again as you both stepped into the car. But you shook your head, determined now. “Then stop worrying. He is not going to eat you.” Teased Timmy.
Then it happened. As you sat at the table with Timothee, you saw Taylor Russell make her way through crowd.
You quickly turned to Timothée, a note of urgency in your voice. “Timmy, don’t panic, but she’s coming over.”
Timothée’s eyes widened slightly as he turned to look at Taylor. His usual nonchalance faded into a look of mild panic. “You’re kidding,” he muttered, trying to keep his cool. “Why does she have to pick now to come over?”
And before you knew… - “Hello” – Tension shifted as Taylor greeted you with her ever the sweetest voice.
“I’m going to grab a drink. I’ll catch up with you later.” you said, your voice carrying a light, reassuring tone. You shot him a quick look, raising an eyebrow. "I’ll kill you if you screw it up," you mouthed playfully, earning a quick smirk from him before you excused yourself to give them some privacy.
Making your way to the bar, you tried not to let your nerves overwhelm you. Just a drink, you thought. Just a quick drink, then I can blend into the background.
“One Cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, just as a familiar voice from beside you made your heart skip a beat.
“It’s on me.”
You turned, and there he was—Drew Starkey, leaning against the bar with a whiskey in hand, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.
Your pulse quickened at the sound of Drew’s voice. He stood next to you, casually leaning on the bar like he belonged there—like he belonged everywhere. His tailored jacket hung off his broad shoulders as though it was designed for him alone. His eyes, that piercing blue you couldn’t forget, caught yours as he smiled—a lazy, confident grin that made your stomach do a flip.
“It’s on me,” he repeated, a little softer, his voice low enough to feel intimate despite the crowd around you.
Your heart stuttered, and for a split second, you forgot how to respond. All those times you’d fantasized about running into Drew Starkey in moments like this and now- He was right there, buying you a drink, and you felt like a teenager all over again.
“Thank you” you finally managed, forcing the word out without sounding too flustered. But your face betrayed you, the warmth creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks. You prayed the dim lighting would hide the blush.
The bartender slid your drink in front of you, and you lifted it to your lips, hoping the cool liquid would calm your nerves. But Drew was watching you—really watching you—and that made it impossible to relax. His eyes never left yours, and there was something about his gaze that made you feel both exposed and flattered at the same time.
“You look stunning, by the way,” Drew added, his voice velvety smooth, the compliment slipping out so easily it nearly disarmed you.
You blinked, trying to play it cool, but the way he said it made your heart race. "Thanks," you said again, "You’re not so bad yourself."
Drew chuckled, a deep sound that seemed to ripple through the air between you. His presence was intoxicating, almost as much as the drink in your hand. “I’ve been told,” he joked, his smile widening just enough to show a hint of mischief. Your lips tugged into a grin despite yourself.
“So," he said, leaning in a little closer, his elbow brushing lightly against your arm as if testing your boundaries, "how are you enjoying Paris?”
A warm smile spread across your face, and you took a moment to gather your thoughts. “Paris is... well, it’s like coming home in a way,” you began, your voice tinged with affection. “Even though I grew up in the States, there’s something about this city that just feels incredibly familiar and comforting.”
You took a sip of your cosmopolitan, letting the flavors mingle with your emotions. “It’s the little things, you know? The way the light changes on the Seine, the scent of freshly baked pastries through the streets, It all feels so...Parisian. It’s like stepping into a world that’s both new and deeply personal at the same time.”
Drew’s smile widened, his expression softening, a genuine appreciation in his eyes. “I can see how much this city means to you. It sounds like you’re really embracing the magic of Paris.”
You nodded, a playful smile tugging at your lips“So the Queer, huh?” you asked, your tone light and teasing. Drew’s chuckle was light and warm, making you smile even more. “So the Challengers, huh?”
You both laughed, the easy banter between you making the moment feel effortless and natural.
“So, how was working with Luca? I know how he gets sometimes.”
His eyes lit up at the mention of Luca’s name, and you couldn’t help but smile warmly. “Luca is incredible. He’s not just a director; he’s like a creative force of nature. it’s like he has this unique ability to bring out the best in everyone he works with.”
You leaned in slightly, enjoying the conversation. “Oh, absolutely. Luca has this way of making you feel like you’re part of something truly special. I’ve learned so much from him. He’s like a father figure to me.”
Drew’s gaze was warm and appreciative, “Its sweet how full of love you are.”
You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, is that so? But enough about Luca. What about you, Drew? What’s your creative magic like?”
Drew’s smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “My magic? Well, I’d say it’s more about finding the right moments to create something special. And right now, I think the real magic is happening here.” He gestured between the two of you with a teasing grin.
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what makes you say that?”
Drew leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Well, I have to say, talking to you is a highlight of my night. You’ve got this incredible energy that’s hard to resist. And I’m not just talking about your career.”
A soft laugh escaped you, and you could feel the flirtatious tension between you growing. “Is that so? I must admit,you’ve got a way of making me feel special.”
Drew’s eyes met yours with a look that was both sincere and playful. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s not every day I get to chat with someone as fascinating and pretty as you”
You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. “Well, I’m glad I could make an impression”
Drew’s smile grew, his gaze held yours, But before either of you could continue, the moment shattered.
“Drew? What took you so long?”
Odessa’s voice sliced through the comfortable haze you and Drew had created, and the tension in the air shifted immediately.
You didn’t have to turn around to know it was her—the sharpness in her tone was unmistakable. Drew’s shoulders stiffened slightly, and though his smile didn’t completely fade, it wasn’t as easygoing as before.
Odessa was stunning, of course—there was no denying that But there was something about her presence that felt... strange. Maybe it was the way she looked at you, her eyes flicking up and down, sizing you up in a single sweep.
Her expression betraying a hint of impatience. “I was just about ready to head out. Are you not coming?”
Drew turned to her, his face a mixture of apology and concern. “Oh, right. I just got caught up in a conversation here. I’ll be right out in a moment, go wait outside okay?”
Odessa’s eyes flicked to you with a mixture of curiosity and something sharper—perhaps jealousy. She gave you a curt nod. “Nice to meet you.”
You offered a polite smile, trying to keep the interaction friendly despite the underlying tension. “Nice to meet you too, Odessa.”
Drew’s gaze returned to you, and there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart flutter. “I really enjoyed talking with you. I’m sorry –
You nodded, feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding. “It’s okay. I hope you both have a good night.”
Drew’s smile was tinged with regret as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and sincere. “I’ll text you.”
With a final, lingering glance, Drew turned and walked away ,leaving you with a swirl of emotions. You watched him disappear into the crowd before taking a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest.
You downed the rest of your cosmopolitan in one go, hoping the drink would steady your nerves. Pulling out your phone, you quickly texted Timothée, letting him know you were heading out.
As you made your way to the Uber pickup area, you could feel the mix of excitement building inside you. Just as you settled into the backseat of the car, your phone buzzed with a new message.
It was from Drew.
Drew: I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. I’d love to continue it…
You: 44.
You: It’s my hotel room number.
You: Don’t make me wait.
The Uber ride back to your hotel was a blur. Your heart hadn’t stopped pounding.
You leaned your head against the window, watching the lights of Paris blur past as the adrenaline surged through your veins.
Stepping out of the car and you hurried your way up to your hotel room. Part of you wondered what you were getting yourself into, but the other part—the part that had been down bad for Drew Starkey since the moment you saw him—couldn’t resist the temptation.
And then, finally, not too long after you entered your room, a soft knock was heared. You froze for a moment, staring at the door, before gathering yourself and opening it.
Drew’s eyes were dark, intense, but his smile was soft, disarming. He stepped inside, the door closing quietly behind him, and suddenly the air between you felt charged, thick with anticipation.
“You really sent me your room number,” he said, voice low, teasing, as he leaned against the wall, watching you with that same amused glint in his eyes.
You shrugged, trying to keep it light, though your heart was racing a mile a minute. “I figured you’d appreciate the direct approach.”
Drew laughed softly, stepping closer, his gaze flicking over you like he was taking in every little detail. “I do,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I really do.”
The touch of his fingers on your skin sent a shiver through you, and before you knew it, you were standing impossibly close, the space between you shrinking with every breath.
“Do you know how hard it was to not look at you all night?” he asked, his voice warm against your skin, his lips just inches away from yours. “You were all I could think about.”
Your breath hitched as his words settled over you, your heart pounding louder in your ears. You looked up at him, eyes wide, and for a moment, all the nervous energy melted away.
“I noticed,” you whispered, barely able to keep the teasing out of your voice.
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your cheek, his breath warm against your ear. “Good.”
Before you could respond, his lips found yours, soft but deliberate, like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had. The kiss was slow at first, testing the waters, but when you kissed him back, everything else melted away. It was just you and Drew, the rest of the world fading into the background as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer.
Time seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, your hands instinctively finding their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling from the intensity of it all.
Drew leaned his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his hands still holding you close. "I've wanted to do that for a while," he admitted, his voice low, almost a confession.
You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his words. "So have I."
Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing into his in a kiss that was nothing like the first—a kiss filled with longing and heat. Drew responded instantly, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His lips moved over yours with urgency, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.
You moaned softly into his mouth, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. He backed you toward the bed, his lips never leaving yours, his hands roaming over your body, sending sparks of desire everywhere they touched. You stumbled slightly, your legs hitting the edge of the bed, and you pulled him down with you, the both of you collapsing onto the mattress in a tangled heap of limbs.
Drew’s body hovered over yours, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His hands, now more confident, slid up the sides of your body, teasing the hem of your shirt before pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion. The cool air against your skin contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off his body, and you felt a rush of anticipation as his gaze darkened, his lips quirking up in appreciation.
“You’re stunning,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
Your breath hitched as his lips found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. You arched into him, the sensation of his mouth on you sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your body. He worked his way lower, his fingers deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before his lips closed around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin.
A soft moan escaped your lips, and Drew groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. He moved with purpose now, his hands sliding down your sides, tugging at your pants until they were nothing but a heap on the floor. Every touch, every kiss, felt like fire, like he was branding you with his desire.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver through you.
You reached up, pulling him closer, your lips crashing into his once more. The kiss was frantic now, filled with need and desperation.
Before you knew it, Drew had shed his own clothes, his body pressed against yours, skin on skin, the heat between you almost unbearable. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. And when he finally slid his hand between your thighs, teasing you, you gasped, your body arching into him, silently begging for more.
“Drew,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, laced with need.
He smirked against your lips, his fingers dipping lower, sliding inside you with a slow, deliberate motion that had you seeing stars. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he worked you, his thumb circling your sensitive spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop…”
“Then don’t”, Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling beneath him, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled his fingers away, leaving you aching and desperate for more.
You let out a frustrated whimper, but Drew silenced you with a heated kiss, his body pressing down against yours as he positioned himself between your thighs. The moment stretched out, the anticipation crackling in the air, before he finally pushed inside you, filling you completely. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as the sensation overwhelmed you.
Drew groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, teasing you, making you crave more. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him to go faster, your body meeting his with every thrust.
The pleasure built quickly, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. Drew’s pace quickened, his breathing ragged in your ear as he drove you both closer and closer to the edge. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending on fire as he pushed you higher, the pressure building inside you until it was almost unbearable.
“Drew,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.
He responded with a deep groan, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate as he chased his own release. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling beneath him as you cried out his name.
Drew followed soon after, his body tensing above you as he found his own release, a deep groan of satisfaction rumbling in his chest. He collapsed beside you, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat, still reeling from the intensity of it all.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing. Then Drew turned to you, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on his lips as he reached out, pulling you against his chest.
“I think I’m gonna need your room number more often,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion and contentment.
You laughed softly, your body still buzzing from the aftermath of everything that had just happened. “I think I can arrange that.”
With that, you curled up against him, your head resting on his chest, your heart still racing as you drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, the feeling of Drew’s arms wrapped around you the last thing you remembered.
And just like that, as you drifted into sleep, one thought lingered:
"Sometimes, love isn’t about chasing a fairy tale or clinging to the past. It’s about embracing the unexpected, even if it’s wrapped in a Loewe suit and a pair of smoldering eyes that see right through you."
TMZ_TV : Last night’s Loewe show was nothing short of spectacular! From jaw-dropping designs to unforgettable moments, the runway was on fire. 🔥
🌟 Y/N L/N stunned in a custom Loewe creation by Jonathan Anderson, embodying elegance and innovation. Meanwhile, Drew Starkey’s sleek Loewe suit had everyone talking.
👀 The real buzz? The chemistry between them at the afterparty! The night was filled with high fashion and even higher drama. 💫
Swipe to see the highlights and catch up on the latest fashion gossip! 💃🕺
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I am very nervous!! Hope you liked it and i did not disappoint you...
#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks#obx#timothée chalamet#timothee chamalet#timmy chalamet#timothee chalamet x reader#timothee x reader
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Hiiiii!!! I hope you have the greatest time at your vacation! I was wondering if I could request about Sukuna x Reader where the reader is sweet and kind towards everyone, including him. He thought she would be afraid of him and confuses him all day until he confronts her as he confesses his feelings to Reader.
You know I had to write my bbys request right away 🫶🤍 I hope you like it!
Sweet Affection
Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader
Word Count: 1,6k
Synopsis: Until he met you, Sukuna never believed in something as worthless as love and affection. But when you treated him like no one ever did before, when you showed him what affection might look like, he tumbles...
Warnings: this is just pure fluff y'all, reader is a sunny sweetheart so of that's not for you don't read, Sukuna melts like butter in her hands hehe
What do we think about adding a real "name" for a one shot instead of a brief description? Let me know 👀🤍
The air is thick with tension as you step into the room. The oppressive aura of none other than Ryomen Sukuna would send most people running, but instead of allowing fear or negativity to take over, you walk in with the same gentle smile you usually wear. After all, it’s this smile that has kept you safe so far, that kept you from losing your mind to darkness - even when standing in front of the king of curses himself.
Sukuna eyes you with a mix of dislike and curiosity. He’s not used to someone like you, someone who isn’t trembling in his presence or desperately trying to escape his control. No, you approach him calmly while offering him a cup of tea as if he were just another regular person.
A cup of tea. Is he dreaming? What the hell are you thinking?
“Here, I made this for you,” you say softly, placing the cup in front of him.
Your voice is just as warm and soothing as your appearance, completely throwing him off. He’s used to the screams, the fear, the devotion that his very name commands. But you… you’re different.
You don’t even tremble, not the tiniest bit while placing the cup in front of him. And then you sit down opposite of him as if it was nothing, as if he couldn’t kill you with one minor movement of his pinky finger.
He doesn’t take the tea, just stares at it with narrowed eyes for a brief moment.
“What’s your game?” he finally growls, his deep voice reverberating through the room.
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
You blink, tilting your head slightly as if the question puzzles you.
“Why would I be afraid of you? You haven’t given me a reason to be.”
Sukuna’s fingers twitch, the sharp claws extending slightly as if to remind you of exactly who he is.
“I’m a monster. These people are trying to hold me hostage. Your people,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.
“I’ve killed more humans than you can imagine. I could kill you right now if I wanted to.”
“And yet, you haven’t. Even though I’m here to make sure you don’t escape,” you reply simply, your eyes meeting his without a trace of fear.
“You could have done it a thousand times by now, but you didn’t. That tells me there’s more to you than just the monster everyone else sees or that you pretend to be.”
He doesn’t know how to respond to that. Your words unsettle him, digging into parts of him he thought were long buried. He’s silent for a long moment, just watching you as you take a sip out of your own cup, eyes darting around the room in visible comfort.
“Why are you so kind? Why do you act like this?” he asks suddenly, his voice quieter this time, almost as if he’s asking himself more than you.
You smile softly, a small, genuine smile that somehow manages to light up the room despite the dark presence looming within it.
“I believe everyone deserves kindness,” you say, your eyes sincere.
“Even you, Sukuna. Or maybe especially you.”
His heart lurches in his chest, a foreign sensation he hasn’t felt in centuries. It irritates him how easily you disarm him, how your sweet nature pierces through the layers of hatred and darkness that have consumed him for so long. It baffles him, makes him feel things he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in so long.
But what angers him the most is the realization that he cares about your opinion of him. That suddenly, he doesn’t want you to see him as a monster. Not you with that glowy hair and remarkable eyes. Not you, who is the first one who actually dares to sit opposite of him, who doesn’t seem afraid of him the slightest. What do you see in him while looking up through your doe eyes and long lashes? What lingers through your mind while smiling at him oh so gently? You simply sit there, take a sip of tea from time to time and smile.
“You know I won’t stay here forever. It’s way too easy for me to escape”, he finally blurts out.
“I know you will. But until you do, I will enjoy my time drinking tea with you.”
He furrows his eyebrows, mind racing back and forth. What nonsense are you talking?
“I’m not that Itadori brat, foolish human.”
“I am very aware of that”, you reply simply.
This goes too far already, he can’t waste another precious minute sitting opposite of you while drinking tea when this might be the last change in a long time for him to take over that brat’s body. With a swift motion he stands up.
Sukuna allows himself one last glance at your soft features, the way you hold your cup so delicately. Then he’s gone.
Months pass with this strange tension lingering between you. Those past weeks, he finds himself over and over at your doorstep. Out of habit, he grabs every chance he gets out of trance to see you again.
You? You continue to treat him with the same kindness, offering him food, asking him about his day, even making casual conversation as if he were any other person.
And Sukuna… he finds himself wanting to respond, wanting to let down his guard, if only for a brief moment.
It’s maddening. He spends the entire time brooding, his thoughts swirling with questions he can’t answer. Why does he care? Why does your smile make his chest tighten? Why does he want to see it directed at him more and more? What is this urge to feel you close without the need to kill you? You, a jujutsu sorcerer from that cursed school, nothing but a weak human.
What is so special about you?
As night falls and he finds himself sitting on your couch again, he finally reaches his breaking point. You’re in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prepare dinner, when he storms in, his presence like a thundercloud rolling through the room.
“Why?” he demands, his voice rough and almost desperate.
“Why are you like this with me? Why do you act like I’m not the monster I am?”
You turn to face him, your expression softening as you see the turmoil in his eyes. You take a step closer, and to his surprise, he doesn’t instinctively move back.
“Because I see more in you,” you say quietly.
“I see someone who’s been hurt, someone who’s lost so much that he’s forgotten how to be anything but cruel. But that doesn’t mean that’s all you are, Sukuna.”
Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. No one has ever spoken to him like this, ever seen him like this. And before he can stop himself, the truth comes tumbling out.
“I care about you,” he admits, the words rough and jagged like they’re being ripped from his very soul.
“And I hate it. I hate that you make me feel this way.”
Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then a soft smile tugs at your lips.
“It’s okay to care, Sukuna. It doesn’t make you weak. It just makes you human.”
Human.
He stares at you, his mind racing. Those countless words of nonsense leaving your mouth, that stupid smile that never wipes off your face, your kindness. Are you actually that dumb? But all he can focus on is how close you are, how your presence soothes the chaos in his mind. Without thinking, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek.
“You’re a fool. A foolish, kind-hearted human…” he murmurs, but there’s no heat in his words, only a strange, unfamiliar tenderness.
Before he can say anything more, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a gentle kiss. Soft and tentative, but it’s enough to make his heart stutter in his chest.
A firework seems to explode between both of you when he wraps his arms around your waist. Longingly, full of passion. You never allowed yourself to imagine this moment. Not when all you wanted to do was to support him, to show him that he doesn’t have to act the way he does. But this? This is more than you ever dreamed of.
Truth is, you fell for this man. Despite the stinging fact that he’s the complete opposite of you, despite all the horrible things he’s done. You can’t help but look up at him with nothing but affection glimmering in your eyes, with nothing but pure love filling your heart.
When you pull back, your eyes meet his, and for the first time in centuries, Sukuna feels something other than hatred and rage. He feels warmth. He feels… love.
And it terrifies him. Fuck, he isn’t supposed to feel this way. That feeling he always made fun of, rising up his chest because a random girl smiled at him?
But as he looks into your eyes, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, it’s worth it. Maybe it’s more than that, something worth exploring.
“I’ll destroy you,” he whispers, though the threat feels empty even to him.
You smile, leaning into his touch.
“I’ll take my chances.”
For the first time in his long, twisted existence, Sukuna doesn’t know what the future holds. But with you by his side, he thinks he might just be okay with that.
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Prey
Summary: In a world where vampires and humans coexist albiet not peacefully, you come to realize everything is not as it seems after meeting Hyunjin.
Pairing: Vampire Hyunjin x fab reader
Genre: thriller, fluff, smut 18+ MDNI
Word Count: 6.3k
Warnings: stalking, coercion (briefly), breaking and entering?, description of blood (obviously), blood tasting, nipple play, fingering, monster fucking, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, squirting.
Notes: This is my first fic for my spooktober event! Yes this is a vampire fic. I had fun with this and added my own twists to what we know as vampires hehe so don't come after me lol. I hope you like it and it gets you into the spooky mood hehe.
If you enjoyed this, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated as they keep me motivated ♡
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)
“Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true.” -Ellie Wiesel
You’ve never been afraid of the dark. You could sit in a dark space for hours, listening to the sounds around you, feeling the air move through your fingertips. No, the dark never bothered you. What you did fear was what is lurking in the shadows, creatures of your deepest nightmares watching your every move, waiting to pounce on you.
You felt like prey at night, always feeling like you were being hunted. You lived in a world that included vampires, creatures of the night mostly.
Growing up, you were told to avoid them at all costs, that they were dangerous, cunning, beings that shouldn’t walk the earth. Your mother instilled these thoughts into your head, making you promise to never associate with one of these beings.
Not wanting to upset your mother, you promised, the fear taking root deep in your core. Now as an adult, you still kept that promise. You never interacted with them, avoiding them at all costs if you could. You also made sure to be home before nightfall, afraid for what was lurking in the dark or who.
You were mindful of this fact as you prepped for the day. You needed to go to the library to work on a project for work, which would take up the majority of your day. Packing your bag, you grabbed a sweater and left, making your way to the town’s local library.
It was a cool day, autumn in full swing. The leaves were changing colors to vibrant shades of red, orange, and yellow. Some leaves already have fallen from the trees, landing on the sidewalk, the crunch echoing as you stepped on each one.
You hoped your friend had made it to the library first, making sure to get the good seats. You knew she would have a warm London fog with her, as she knew what your favorite drink was.
It didn’t take long for you to arrive, the old building looming in the center of town. You marched up the steps and opened the door, a burst of warm air enveloping you like a cozy blanket. You scanned the area, looking for your friend Aria, finding her at a desk next to one of the many windows.
She was engrossed in a book, her nose almost touching the pages. You chuckled and walked over before blowing on her face, startling her. She narrowed her eyes at you while clutching her chest, “that wasn’t very nice.”
You grinned, pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Is that for me?” You asked, hope in your eyes as you eyed the cup next to her.
“It is, although you don’t deserve it after the stunt you just pulled.”
You rolled your eyes and reached for the drink. “So dramatic. Thank you.”
Aria stuck her tongue out at you and then went back to her book, her nose once more barely touching the page.
You started to unpack and set up for the day, gazing through your list of things to do. Opening up one of the books you brought with you, you started to skim through it looking for information for your project.
You became lost in your work, the silence settling around you, the only sounds heard were the occasional rustle of paper. You were making progress, however, you needed more books as references. You signaled to Aria that you were going to go look for more books. She nodded her head and went back to reading as you got up and stretched your legs.
You walked over to the non-fiction section and started browsing the titles, looking for anything that may be useful for your project. You were so engrossed in searching that you didn’t see the man standing in the aisle, book in hand. You bumped into him causing him to drop his book, startling you.
“Oh, I’m so sor…” your words died off as you looked at the man before you.
Your breath caught as you eyed him, taking in his looks. He was tall, looming over your figure easily. His face was beautiful, reminding you of Adonis. His eyes were a dark, chocolate brown, the orbs piercing, but yet gentle. You felt lost in his gaze, as you forgot where you were, your mind going blank.
The man smiled at you, reaching out his hand to brush the hair from your face. The action made you snap out of your reverie, shaking your head to clear the fuzziness within your brain. You knew what he was, the very creature you vowed to stay away from.
“Are you ok?” The man spoke, his voice silky, smooth, and deep.
He peered down at you, holding your gaze as you tried to look anywhere but at his face. You didn’t want to engage with him and were looking for a way out. Before you could run away, the man brought his hand to your chin and had you look him in the eyes.
You tried to look away, but to no avail as he held your head steady. He looked deep into your eyes, his lips slightly parted, a grin forming on his face. You felt calm and less terrified, your body relaxing with each passing second.
“Are you ok?” The man asked again.
You shook your head as best as you could, “yes, I’m ok.”
The man smied, his dazzling teeth on display. “Good. My name is Hyunjin. What’s your name gorgeous?”
You intently listened as Hyunjin spoke to you, eager to hear more of his voice. Clearing your throat, you replied, “Y/n.”
Hyunjin hummed in acknowledgment. “Such a pretty name. Fitting for such a pretty girl.”
You leaned more into his touch, wanting to be as close as possible to this man. However, something felt off, but you couldn’t place your finger on what. With much difficulty, you searched your brain, trying to understand why the interaction felt off.
Hyunjin continued to look into your eyes, his face searching yours for any clue as to what you were thinking about. With sudden clarity, you understood why things felt off. He had you under his charm. Yes, that was it. You could vaguely sense a different scent than before, the smell of bergamot and patchouli gracing your senses.
You focused on this thought deep within, trying to break through his spell. It was difficult as he was a vampire so to say, their spells not easy to break for the average human. However, you fought hard, willing yourself to unleash yourself from his charm so you could run away.
Suddenly, you felt like yourself again and with a breath, slapped his hand away, shock gracing his beautiful features.
“Get your hands off me,” you said, your eyes laced with fear but also anger.
Hyunjin stared at you in shock and slight awe. You were actually able to break his charm. No one has ever done so, not in his hundreds of years roaming this earth. He already thought you were beautiful, your calm demeanor sparking a flame within him he hasn’t felt in centuries. But now? He was fascinated and he wasn’t going to forget you anytime soon.
He watched as you turned on your heels and quickly walked away back to your friend, your strong scent of lavender and honey lingering in your wake. He quickly said a quick spell, satisfied once he was done. Your paths would cross again, sooner rather than later if he had any say.
Adjusting the ring on his finger, he made to leave, slowly strolling out of the library into the night air.
You made it back to your table, pulling out your chair and sitting down. You tried to catch your breath as you held a hand to your chest, feeling the rapid pounding of your heart. What the hell just happened you wondered. Did you really just cross paths and actually interact with a vampire?
You were terrified. You hoped to never see him again. Surely you won’t right? You were lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Aria call your name. Snapping your head up, you looked at your friend.
“Are you alright?” She asked as she looked at you anxiously. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
Close to it you thought. “I’m fine. Just…saw a rat and ran away.”
“Ewww, really?! I would have screamed.” Aria said, none the wiser to your lie.
She went back to her book, not paying you any more attention. You attempted to continue to work on your project, however, your mind was preoccupied. You couldn’t get Hyunjin out of your head.
You knew vampires were gorgeous, their beauty being one of the points that lured unsuspecting humans into their grasps, but you didn’t think they could look that beautiful. Your mind was all over the place, not able to focus on the task in front of you.
Finally givng up, you decided to pack up and go home. You explained to Aria that you were leaving. She merely waved you away.
“Text me when you get home,” she said, not looking up from her book.
Grabbing your bag, you made to leave. You cautiously walked into the night, the darkness settling in around you. You had stayed longer than you had liked. Not many people were out and about, as it was late. You listened to your surroundings, the occasional hoot from an owl reaching your ears.
The moon was bright, casting a glow to illuminate your way. You hummed a song as you continued to walk home, feeling at ease for the first time since you had that chance encounter, given the circumstances.
You were almost home when you felt odd, your senses tingling, as if someone was watching you. You looked around you, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing nothing, you shrugged your shoulders and continued on your way. You did not see the figure lurking in the shadows, watching as you made your way home.
It didn’t take much longer to get home, your apartment being a short distance from the library. You walked up the steps to your door and stopped in your tracks. Lying delicately on your doormat was a kadupul flower, in full bloom.
You quickly looked around, looking to see who could have left such a flower at your door. You felt uneasy. Picking up the flower, you unlocked your door and quickly slipped inside, latching the deadbolt in place. You looked at the flower in your hand, the rich, white petals in full bloom.
You walked over to your sink, and found a vase, filling it with water and setting the flower inside. You made your way to your bathroom to shower, trying not to think about the odd events of the day. You walked through your night routine and once finished, slid into bed.
Turning off the lights, you laid underneath the covers, staring at the wall. You tried not to think of Hyunjin, as you willed sleep to come. It must have worked, because before you knew it, you dozed off, succumbing to sleep.
As you slumbered, a figure loomed over you, watching as you slept peacefully. Hyunjin was happy you accepted his flower, bidding him to come inside your house. After all, it was one of the ways vampires were granted entrance into someone’s home.
Now that he is able to come inside, he can watch over you more closely, get to know you, your routine, and if he plays his cards right, you’ll be his before the end of the fortnight. For now, however, he’ll watch over you tonight, and make sure you have sweet dreams.
The next morning, you awoke feeling oddly refreshed. The sun was shining, you could tell as the rays threatened to break through your curtains that you had closed. You stretched and got up to begin your morning routine. Your day wasn’t terribly busy, only having to go into the office briefly to meet with one of your colleagues regarding the project.
You happily sipped at your coffee as you read your book, the events of last night forgotten. Now that you think about it, you had pleasant dreams too, which was a nice change from the typical nightmares you usually get. You didn’t dwell on the thought too long however. You were just happy to finally get some sleep.
The time came when it was time for you to meet your colleague, so you fixed your hair and grabbed your bag, before making your way outdoors. The walk was pleasant, the warm sun gently warming your skin. You smiled, feeling truly happy.
Now that made you think, as you haven’t felt true happiness in a while. It was sad to even have to consider why you felt happy. Maybe you shared a funny joke with Aria or had a great conversation with your family on the phone that you can’t remember. Neither option seemed right however.
You felt confused, a frown slowly gracing your features. You felt like a part of your memory was gone and you weren’t sure why.
Hyunjin watched you from afar, the spell he placed on you yesterday at the library alerting him whenever you left the house. He followed you as you walked to your destination. You seemed happy enough. It didn’t seem like you remembered him or your encounter yesterday.
However, your demeanor changed, your stride slowing, a frown appearing on your beautiful face. You seemed lost in thought. He didn’t approve of your anxiety and confusion. He wanted you to be happy. The other spell he casted over you last night must already be wearing off sooner than usual.
Maybe he needs to back off a little, let you get back into your daily routine. Hyunjin did not want to mess this opportunity up. He’s already told the others about you. They are very eager to meet the mysterious human that has preoccupied their friend.
Yes, he will back off. He will let you go about your life and then when you least expect it, re-approach you. He is certain he will succeed at his next attempt to make you his.
Your days passed quietly, nothing out of the ordinary occurring. You filled your days by going to work and back home and occasionally going to the library to continue working on your project. You met with Aria a few more times, grabbing coffee or food depending on how much time you both had.
You had just arrived home after a long day at the office. You were more than ready to relax, ready to binge watch your favorite show while stuffing your face with pizza. Once you placed your order and changed into more comfortable clothes, you made up your home on the couch for the next few hours.
However, you happened to look over and notice the flower, still in its vase from a week ago. Who gave that to you again? You couldn’t remember. Shrugging, you decided to toss it, as the flower was shriveled up and appeared to be dead. Once you were done, you sat down and flipped the tv on, pulling up your show.
You were already an episode in when you heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was your pizza, you skipped happily to the door and swung it open, ready to greet the pizza delivery person.
Instead of pizza however, there was a dozen of the same flower that you just threw away. Startled, you looked up, looking this way and that to see if whoever left them were still around. Nightfall had fallen, quiet had descended upon your town.
A shiver went down your spine, unease settling in within you. You noticed a note on top of the flowers. Picking up the square piece of paper, you unfolded it and read what was written inside:
Time may pass but you become ever more beautiful. Await me my love for we shall be reunited soon.
Now you were scared. There was no signature indicating who left the note. It was handwritten in beautiful script, the words written carefully upon the piece of paper. You needed to get back into the comfort of your home and it needed to happen now.
Against better judgment, you picked up the flowers and brought them inside. You filled the vase with fresh water once more and set them inside. You stared at the flowers, not yet in bloom. You placed the note next to the vase.
You could feel your senses go into overdrive as your body went into fight or flight mode. You became aware of every sound around you, listening for a potential intruder after this strange event. You jumped when you heard another knock on your door, hearing the person on the other side say ‘delivery.’
Taking a few deep breaths, you made your way back to your door, unlocking it to take the pizza. You thanked the man and closed the door, once more in the safety of your home. You made sure the door was bolted before sitting down on your couch.
You weren’t really hungry anymore, too on edge after finding the bouquet of flowers. You turned to look at them, letting out a gasp as the flowers had since bloomed. They sat within the vase, an ethereal look to them as the petals lay spread out. You sat in shock, just staring at the flowers, not noticing there was another presence in the room.
Far too late, you turned your head to notice a man sitting next to you. You let out a scream, the color draining from your face. You cowered in the corner of the couch, your muscles tense and ready to run at moments notice. When did he get in here? Something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place where you had first seen him.
“Hi angel,” the man said as he looked you in the eyes.
You let out the breath you were holding, your body relaxing little by little as you stared at the man in front of you, a feeling of calm spreading throughout your body.
“Do you remember me?”
You started at the man, your mind a jumbled mess as you tried to make out the situation. A strange man somehow broke into your house and is now sitting in front of you asking if you remember him. You felt strange on top of that, oddly calm given the situation.
“I see you got my flowers. They look beautiful just like you love.”
You struggled with your conscience, trying to overcome this fog that was placed over you. You looked in horror as the man scooted closer to you and gently grabbed your face. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your vision blurring as you felt tears prickle the corners of your eyes.
You fought internally with yourself, trying to break through the fog. As you struggled, the man was leaning closer and closer to you as though he was going to kiss you. You closed your eyes at the last second, squeezing them shut. You felt his soft and pillowy lips brush yours.
You needed to wake up now, or who knows what will happen. At this, you felt the fog lift, your mind clear once more. You screamed and scrambled back as far as you could go away from the man.
He stared back at you, his hand in midair as if he was still holding your face.
“Angel, don’t be afraid.” He said.
“Who are you? How’d you get in here? I didn’t give you permission to come in!” You all but screamed.
The man in front of you sighed. “Perhaps I left you alone for too long. My name is Hyunjin. We’ve met before.”
He stared at you long and hard as his words sank in. You looked terrified, your body shaking in fear. He didn’t want you to be afraid. He wanted you to feel at ease around him, he wanted you to want him, to be his.
“You brought the flowers inside your house. They have a spell on them, one that grants me entrance to wherever the flowers reside.”
You listened to every word he said, fear still coursing through your body.
“Why? Why me?” You said, your voice shaking with each word.
You tried to take deep breaths, as you felt dizzy, feeling like you were going to pass out.
“Please, angel. Don’t be afraid. We are meant to be. Let me show you. Please.”
Hyunjin had a pleading look on his face. He made no further move to get closer to you, respecting the distance placed between you two.
“You’re a vampire. How are we meant to be? I’m a human.” You said, rolling your eyes.
Hyunjin looked sad, his eyes falling at your denial of his advances.
“If I can show you how we were meant to be, will you accept me? One night, that’s all I ask angel.”
You looked at Hyunjin, really looked at him, searching his face for any deceit. He was a vampire after all. You thought long and hard, as the shock of a strange man in your home wore off. He’s a vampire, he can’t be trusted. He just wants to use you and once he’s done, he’ll kill you.
Why trust him? Yes he was staring at you with his beautiful eyes, but you didn’t want that to distract you from the fact that he just cannot be trusted.
“Please angel,” he pleaded once more.
You considered his plea once more. You were about to make a dumb mistake, but before you could change your mind, your mouth opened forming the words ‘yes.’
Hyunjin smiled at you, his brilliant teeth glowing in the low lighting. “Excellent! I will pick you up tomorrow night.”
He quickly got up and walked over to you. You tried to scoot back but found you had nowhere to go. You froze in place as Hyunjin approached you and grabbed your face once more. He slowly leaned down before pressing his lips to yours in a brief kiss. Before letting you go, he nipped at your lip, pulling at the flesh before standing up.
“Get some rest angel, you will need it.”
With that Hyunjin was gone, disappearing in thin air. You were shocked, your eyes never leaving the place where he was standing just moments before. You reached up and touched your lips. Did that really happen? Are you really going to give a vampire a chance?
You knew your mother would be disappointed if she were she alive. Oh well however, the deeds been done. Tomorrow your fate would be sealed.
The next day, you were anxious, your hands slightly trembling, your mind unfocused. You didn’t know what to expect tonight and that was driving you insane. You paced the floors, unable to sit still for too long.
What were you expected to wear? You didn’t think to ask that last night. On top of the anxiety, you were scared. What if he killed you once he was done showing you whatever he wanted to show you? Your mind was riddled with thoughts, none of them the typical thoughts you’d have before a date.
As dusk approached, the orange and pink sky showing through your windows, you decided to get ready. Somehow you knew exactly which outfit you wanted to wear. You chose a white dress with cross ties in the front. The hem of the dress had asymmetrical ruffles. You thought it would be a perfect contrast to going out with a creature of the night.
You did your makeup and lightly curled your hair. Spritzing some of your favorite perfume, you were ready for whatever the night brings.
You heard a soft ruffle behind you and you turned around in shock. Standing before you was Hyunjin. He was dressed nicely, making him look even more handsome. He eyed your outfit, a smile slowing forming on his face.
“You look gorgeous angel,” he purred reaching a hand out towards you.
You took his hand and watched as he placed a soft kiss on your hand, his lips lingering for a few moments. You felt yourself blush, the heat rising to your face.
“Ready?” He asked as he straightened up.
You shook your head yes, ready for whatever he had in store. Hyunjin smiled at you and took your hand, his fingers gently lacing with yours. He led the way, out the door, down the steps, and onto the sidewalk. The night air felt nice on your skin, feeling warm enough to where you didn’t need a sweater.
The moon was bright and hanging perfectly in the sky, no clouds around to dampen its light. Hyunjin led you along the streets, walking in stride with you. You were lost in thought, lost in the man next to you when you felt a squeeze of your hand.
You looked at Hyunjin before looking to where he was pointing to.
“Here we are,” he said as he stopped in front of a building.
It seemed old, the style outdated. There was a soft glow from within, seeming inviting. You swallowed nervously. This is it, you thought, this is where I die. You followed Hyunjin as he led you to the door. Grasping the handle, he twisted the knob before the door swung open.
He stepped inside, pulling you along. The interior of the building was breath taking. The architecture was old but warm, definitely from another time period. The furniture reminded you of the 1800s, screaming old money.
Hyunjin could see the curiosity and awe on your face. He smiled to himself, happy that you didn’t seem taken aback. This was to be your home shortly after all.
“This was my parents house,” he said, as he guided you through the house.
You were looking this way and that, taking in the various rooms that you passed by. His parent’s house? Where were they now you wondered. You knew vampires lived for a very long time. Would you get to meet them tonight?
Sensing your unease, Hyunjin squeezed your hand as he stopped before a door. “They died long ago, murdered by humans.”
You gasped, not knowing what to say. After a while you opened your mouth to speak, “I’m sorry.”
Hyunjin merely shook his head. “It was centuries ago.”
You nodded and held your breath as he opened the door. Inside the room was a dining table, set up for two. Candles lit the room, the shadows from the flames dancing along the walls.
Hyunjin walked you to a chair and pulled it out, gesturing for you to sit. You did as you were told, tucking your dress underneath you as you sat. He effortlessly tucked your chair in before rounding the corner and sitting down next to you.
He clapped his hands and food appeared, your plate piled high with delicate foods. You were shocked, your mouth hanging open. You looked up as you heard Hyunjin chuckle.
“Easy to do angel, with a spell.”
You simply nodded your head. Of course, he could do anything.
“Dig in angel. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
Hyunjin watched you as you cautiously took your fork and grabbed a piece of food. He watched as you brought the food to your succulent lips, the flesh wrapping around the utensil.
He smiled as you groaned, savoring the food on your tongue. You ate in fervor, not realizing how hungry you were. You looked up at Hyunjin and noticed he wasn’t eating.
“Are you not eating?” You asked, setting down your fork in embarrassment.
Hyunjin waved your concern away. “I cannot eat human food.”
As he said this, he looked at you, a smirk forming on his face.
You gulped. Of course vampires couldn’t eat human food. You didn’t want to think what this meant for you.
“Eat, it’s ok you eat,” Hyunjin said with a smile.
You nodded your head and picked up your fork once more. You finished off the rest of the food, your belly full and happy. Hyunjin nodded in satisfaction once you finished, snapping his fingers, the dishes clearing away immediately.
He got up and reached out to you, grasping your hand in his. You followed him as he led you out of the dining room and up the stairs. You held your breath as you ascended the beautiful staircase, unsure of what was to come. Where was Hyunjin leading you now?
“Here we are,” Hyunjin said as he led you to a room just off the stairs. He opened the door and allowed you to walk in first.
The room was beautiful, filled with ornate furniture. There was a little sitting area near the window, the night air filtering through the open window. In the center of the room there was a canopy bed that looked warm and inviting. You turned to Hyunjin, a questioning look in your eye.
He grinned and took your hand once more, guiding you to the sitting area. You sat on the couch, unsure of where to look, what to say. Hyunjin sat next to you and brushed the back of his hand across your cheek.
You blushed and shivered at his touch. You felt something stir within you. Yes, you knew Hyunjin was no good for you, a vampire, a creature you cannot trust, but your mind and body had other plans.
You looked into Hyunjin’s eyes, your heart rapidly beating within your chest. Hyunjin smiled at you before leaning forward, causing you to lay back on the couch. He brushed your hair to the side before placing his lips on yours.
You couldn’t help but sigh at the kiss, your hands reaching up hesitantly to wrap around his neck. Hyunjin continued to gently kiss you, his lips molding with yours with ease. His lips felt like heaven, nice and soft against yours.
You felt Hyunjin’s lips tip up in a smile. “Finally, you are mine angel,” he purred before kissing your jaw, the underside of your neck before he latched onto your sweet spot below your ear.
You let out a low moan as he nipped and sucked the area, his tongue lashing out to soothe the skin every now and then. You felt like you were floating, becoming lost in Hyunjin’s kisses. You closed your eyes and relaxed further into the couch, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck.
Without warning, you felt a sharp prick, a yelp leaving your mouth as your eyes flew open. Hyunjin bit you, his teeth still lodged within your neck. He was going to feed from you, the shock from the realization causing your to panic. You tried to move away, but found you could not, your body paralyzed beneath the man above you.
However, before you could further protest, you felt a warm sensation travel throughout your body, down your arms, settling in your fingertips, down your legs settling in your toes, down your belly before settling in your core, arousal flooding your panties and soaking the material through.
You arched into Hyunjin, clinging onto him even tighter as he fed from you, the feeling of ecstasy becoming stronger with each passing moment. Hyunjin let out a growl before sitting up, blood smeared over his lips, his fangs still bared and bloody.
“You taste amazing angel, just like I thought. You felt good too? I know you did.” He cooed.
You did feel good, the feeling still lingering even after he detached himself from you. Your body felt like it was on autopilot, needing more from Hyunjin. You opened your legs more, allowing Hyunjin to slot himself more comfortably between your legs.
He grinned at your eagerness before he slid the straps of your dress down, your breasts on display. His fingers brushed lightly over your nipples, the buds instantly peaking between the cold air coming through the window and his touch. You mewled out as he leaned down to suckle your nipple, his tongue flicking against the nub.
Hyunjin loved your body, your beautiful breasts fitting perfectly in his mouth. He suckled your nipple, his hand massaging your other breast. He let out a groan at the sound of your voice, whimpering his name, telling him not to stop. He was ready to make you his.
With a pop, he let go of your nipple and sat up. With a snap of his fingers, his clothes disappeared, a chuckle leaving his lips at your shock.
Hyunjin’s body was beautiful. He was toned, his muscles flexing with every movement he made. Your eyes traveled down, down until they landed on the hard appendage between his thighs. His cock was pretty, the prettiest you’ve ever seen, the perfect length and girth, his tip leaking with precum.
You watched as he pushed up your dress, bunching the material at your waist, his eyes snapping to your dripping core. You heard him mutter something under his breath in a language you didn’t know, watching as he slid his finger between your folds. You moaned as he circled your clit, applying pressure to the bud occasionally.
“You’re soaking angel. All for me hmm? You’re mine right?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes searching yours for the answer.
“I’m yours Hyunjin,” you whimpered, finally succumbing to the man.
Hyunjin smiled, letting out a breath at the words he’s been waiting to hear since he met you. Grabbing his cock, he brought it to your folds, pressing the tip within your tiny hole. He watched your face, pleasure taking over as he pushed inch by inch in.
With one final push, he bottomed out, the stretch causing you to yelp from the pain. You reached out to push against him, silently begging him to stop. Hyunjin just grinned and took your hands in his, bringing them up and above your head. With a chaste kiss to your lips he thrusted his hips against yours, dragging his cock through your warm walls.
The pleasure was overwhelming, his cock hitting your spot just right. You loved his weight on top of you, cradling you beneath him as he rhythmically slid his cock in and out, in and out. You felt Hyunjin drop his head into the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin as he breathed.
You squeezed his hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him ever closer to you. The new position allowed his cock to reach deeper within your walls, his tip kissing your cervix. You mewled out as you felt your high approaching.
Hyunjin groaned as he felt your pussy clench around him, keeping him within your walls. He fit perfectly within you, just as he thought. You were made for him. He felt the sweat off his forehead and land on you, his pleasure building with each stroke.
He needed you to cum with him, like he needed air to breathe. As he continued to thrust into you, he bared his fangs once more before sinking his teeth once more within your neck. You howled at the pain before succumbing to the pleasure as he fed from you.
He couldn’t get enough of you, as you were perfect. He felt you stiffen beneath him and with a cry, you squirted around his cock, your arousal coating his pelvis and dripping onto the couch below. The feeling of your pussy fluttering around him caused tip over the edge, spurt after spurt of his warm cum filling up walls.
You felt full and satisfied, as you came down from your high. You winced as you felt Hyunjin withdraw his teeth, before he pressed his lips against yours. You could taste the metallic taste of your blood, causing you to groan as you tightened your hold around him.
You felt like you could lay here and kiss him forever, your worries forgotten, the world forgotten as you laid in the little cocoon that was Hyunjin. Hyunjin gave you one more kiss before sitting up and slowly withdrawing his softening cock. He couldn’t help but watch his cum spill from your pussy, the sight beautiful to his eyes. It meant that you were his, finally his.
“Let me run a bath,” Hyunjin said, getting up from the couch.
You laid there beneath the windows, the moonlight shining through, awaiting Hyunjin to come back for you. It didn’t take him long as he was back within a few minutes. He carefully picked you up and carried you to the large in suite bathroom.
You felt sleepy as Hyunjin carefully washed your body, the scent of cherry blossoms filing in the air. You could hear him hum a song, the melody soft and sweet, almost like a lullaby. Once he was done washing you, he carefully brought you back to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed. He quickly dried you off and slipped a shirt over your head before pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You grinned at the small sign of affection, reaching out to him with your arms, wanting to feel close. Hyunjin chuckled before picking you up once more. He placed you beneath the warm covers before sliding in next to you.
You snuggled up next to him, resting your head on his chest. There was no heartbeat, nothing present to let you know he was a human. You couldn’t help but feel attached, needing to be close to Hyunjin at all times. If this is what it felt like being with a vampire, then you didn’t mind, you actually wanted it, craved it.
He was yours, just as you were his. You snuggled closer as he whispered sweet nothings, his hands smoothing down your hair, his fingertips lightly brushing against your back.
“I love you angel.” Hyunjin whispered, kissing your hair as you drifted off to sleep.
You mumbled incoherent words, hoping the three little words were audible to Hyunjin.
You never were afraid of the dark, never fearing the darkness that covered the land each day. Maybe what lurked in the dark wasn’t so bad either. Maybe what lurked in the dark was what you were looking for all along.
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