#More tags will be added if someone tells me to lol. I would appreciate that too 😅

[audioandart]

The New Comment Section Sucks

Or at least, it appears to be new, I got it a couple days ago (read, just a little over a week ago). It could be I just got it late 🤷‍♀️

I've sat with it. I've tried to see if it has merit. Any pros. I don't usually like change so I tried to be conscious of that and not let that cloud my judgement. I tried looking at Tumblr on multiple devices to see if perhaps any issues was my phone (it wasn't.)

The new comment section does not work. I haven't seen anyone else say this so honestly who knows, maybe it's just something with my account, but in case this is an actual problem and maybe there's someone else out there who's noticed it doesn't work and feels like they're losing their mind because they don't see anyone else talking about it, here's this post.

I'll start with the only pro I've noticed. The fact that you can immediately see which comments are in reply to other comments. Great! Something I've bemoaned in the past was the difficulty to find the start of comment chains. It wasn't too difficult or upsetting for me but it could definitely be a chore. It is pretty nice to immediately be able to see what is from where.

The cons. Oh dear. I'll go in least bad to absolute worst imo

The replies are not seen automatically in some chains. I'm not sure why some chains they are automatically visible and in some they aren't but I don't think it's good? One of the ways people communicate here is jumping into a conversation they see in the replies, but they don't do that if the effort to see the reply is too high. In many situations it's too high to press the small button (that I doubt people with vision issues of any sort can see) that also for some reason some times breaks the comment section and launches you back to the top. Most of this is a nitpick but the broken button and its size is a problem.

The new background. I don't have vision problems but I can't see, I cannot imagine it being good for anyone who does have them. The greyish blueish color behind black text is NOT helpful. Idk, I do know there are some people who this would actually be good for, but I think it's very important to at least maybe have to option to have the normal black and white, because some people need that to see. (Including me, please bring it back.) Honestly, the comments have just been made endlessly less accessible. I genuinely have to reread things multiple times because I cannot retain what I'm reading. Long story, but yes the background color affects what my brain retains. Iirc it affects everyone's brains but I digress.

When typing, the comment box (where you type) no longer stays at the part you're typing, but at the very top. You can no longer see what you're typing past a point. I'm also not sure this is or isn't my device, but I checked this on multiple and it still happened so I'm leaning towards the site. This started gradually before the change.

I cannot find my comments. This also started gradually before the change, and is why I thought my account was broken, but I was since informed by multiple people that my comments are genuinely just disappearing. Deleted it would seem, however it hasn't been staff. Small simple things like a little compliment on art. Literally just a "good job!" gone from the site. (And just in case someone thinks it might be the op deleting something on their post, about half of the people who informed me my comment was gone was the op. They were trying to respond to the comment I left for them and found it was no longer there, so it isn't them.) And it happens days and even months after the comment was posted, as well as completely randomly. However, some comments I've posted aren't deleted, because I'm receiving replies to them. They just aren't visible to me (and ONLY me) anymore. I also assumed this could have been my Internet, but I've tested that multiple times as well and found it is still just Tumblr. I've literally been in the middle of a comment convo when the person trying to respond to me will have to ask what I said because my comment(s) are suddenly gone. And I usually can't remember! This is usually at least a week or two after I posted it. This is not good. I also only was able to respond because comments weren't linked, and now that they are I won't be able to respond to the people asking about my comments because if I can't find the start, I can't find the replies.

Replies are also gone. This is the worst offender. Every single reply someone has left on any of my comments are GONE. I receive notifications on them, and not only are MY comments straight up gone, COMPLETELY, because for some reason all of a sudden, after this change ALL my comments no longer exist, but any reply left on my comments I can see don't exist. To everyone who's tried to reply to my comments recently and I haven't gotten back to you, this is why. I'm being super serious. I've received probably about 10 replies since the change. I know, I'm so popular. I haven't been able to find a single one. And from the little notifications I got, these seem to be pretty important replies! I would very much like to reply! But I can't! It's not just aggravating, or frustrating, but also very concerning. Someone out there, anyone, have any of you had this happen or is this one really just me? Etc etc if anyone has had this happen please feel free to reach out to me, I would appreciate the examples for if I bring this up again, thank you very much.

Basically, @staff, I say this out of frustration but also concern. While it's nice to have the comment sections just that tiny bit neater and slightly more intuitive in the sense that you immediately know what is in response to what, this feels very much like a monkeys paw situation. The rest of the comment section has broken. Almost in it's entirety... Please, PLEASE for the love of god fix this. I'm hoping that if anyone comments on this post, something about it being my post will let my actually see the damn things, but I don't know. We'll see!

And to everyone who's NOT staff, please if you have examples I would love to hear them. If I'm not responding to your comments below, send me a dm because I probably can't see them. I'm serious about appreciating any stories because it would help greatly to know it's not just me... 😅

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 4

Word Count: 11.9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation, attempted rape, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @m0onlustre, @ve1vet-cake @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglamela, @connorsui @iluvmewwwww75 , @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer @mysssticc @babygirl-panda19 @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1

AN: Bit of a late upload for you night owls and a nice surprise for my early risers! Someone tell me to stop making the chapters longer, thank you LOL. This chapter was a lot of fun to write and I hope you guys enjoy! This is on AO3 as usual! :D

"So… uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert. "Dog? What dog?" he said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question. "You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

Read Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3 Pt.5

Xavier drummed his fingers rhythmically on the glass counter, each tap growing more impatient as the seconds stretched on. His eyes darted around the cluttered store, scanning the shelves filled with everything from worn-out sneakers to high-end dress shoes. The store clerk had disappeared into the back room several minutes ago, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Xavier wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping to find here.

He had strolled in with nothing more than a photo of a shoe print—a faint clue at best—but it felt more productive than sitting idly by, doing nothing while the answers to your disappearance slipped further out of reach. At least this was action, however uncertain.

Was this even a tangible way to find you? Was he grasping at straws, wasting precious time on a hopeless lead?

And the most haunting question of all—were you even still alive?

Xavier squeezed his eyes shut, as if closing them tightly enough could block out the flood of dark thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn’t afford to let his mind go there, not now. Pushing the fear and uncertainty away, he tried to focus on the faint glimmer of hope that had brought him here in the first place. Anything was better than surrendering to despair.

"This is all I could find on it. It's certainly a unique pair," the shop clerk continued, offering a slight smile. "I'm not as technologically advanced as most shops around here, so sorry to disappoint. But, may I ask—why come to my little shop instead of one of those fancy places downtown?"

Xavier took the pamphlet, glancing over the information quickly before shifting his gaze back to the clerk. "Well," he began, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "I heard you were the kind of guy who could identify a pair of shoes just by its print."

The clerk chuckled softly, his weathered face creasing with the effort. "You've been a great help, actually," Xavier added, sliding the pamphlet into his jacket pocket with a nod of appreciation.

The clerk gave an approving nod, the lines of his face softening in quiet satisfaction before he turned his back again, settling into the familiar rhythm of his work. Xavier headed toward the door, the faint creak of floorboards beneath his boots echoing through the small, dimly lit shop. His hand hovered over the door handle, but just as his fingers brushed the cool metal, a nagging thought rooted him in place. He paused, heart pounding slightly as the question formed in his mind.

He turned back, the weight of uncertainty pulling at his voice. "Say... you wouldn’t happen to know where this shoe was originally made, would you?"

The clerk stopped, mid-motion, his hands faltering over a pile of worn soles. The question seemed to hang in the air, drawing out a moment of silence as the man stared down, his brow furrowing. It was clear he hadn’t thought about it in some time. Xavier felt a flicker of hope, unsure if it would lead him anywhere, but desperately clinging to the possibility.

The clerk finally turned, his face thoughtful, his voice quieter now. "Yeah..." he said slowly, as if pulling the memory from a fog. "Last I saw of that shoe, it came from a company based in the... er, N1—no, wait..." His brow furrowed deeper as he worked to piece it together. "N109 Zone. Yeah, that’s the one."

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight Xavier couldn’t ignore. The clerk’s tone wasn’t just casual recollection—it was tinged with something more, like the memory of that particular shoe stirred something deeper. Xavier felt the knot of tension in his chest tighten.

Xavier felt his breath catch in his throat. N109 Zone. The name alone sent a chill down his spine. He had heard plenty about that place—mostly rumors, but enough to know that it was a dangerous, lawless sector. Few dared to go there unless they had no other choice, and even fewer came back with stories worth telling. It was a no-man’s-land, a forgotten corner of land where control was lost long ago. The kind of place where people disappeared without a trace.

His mind raced, piecing it together. If the shoe had come from there... Did that mean you were there too? His stomach churned at the thought. The faint hope he had clung to started to blur with the creeping dread of what fate could have fallen upon you in the N109 Zone.

"You’re sure about that?" he asked, his voice betraying the slight anxiety creeping in around the edges. The clerk glanced up from his work, noticing the shift in Xavier’s tone.

"Yeah," the clerk said, more firmly this time. "I’m sure. That shoe—rare brand—hard to forget. The company folded years ago, but they used to operate out of the N109 Zone. Only place I’ve ever seen them sold."

Xavier swallowed hard, the words sinking deep. If the shoe came from N109, it could be a clue—a dangerous one, but still the only lead he had. He felt the urgency building inside him, a gnawing sense that time was running out, but also the undeniable question of what he might find if he went there.

Could you really be in a place like that? His mind struggled to fill in the gaps, but there were too many unknowns. Were you okay?

"I...appreciate your help," Xavier muttered, his voice thick with tension. He clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to steady his breathing.

"You're not actually thinking of going there, are you?" the store clerk asked, his voice edged with disbelief as he raised an eyebrow. He leaned slightly forward over the counter, studying Xavier with a mixture of concern and amusement. "No offense, but a pretty fella like you doesn’t exactly look like the type who could survive in a place like that. Not really worth the hassle for a pair of shoes don't you think?"

Xavier paused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn’t turn around immediately, letting the weight of the clerk’s words linger for a moment. Finally, he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression calm, almost casual. "I'll be fine," he said, his voice steady, though the tension in his body remained. "I've dealt with much worse."

The clerk blinked, surprised by Xavier's calm demeanor, but said nothing more.

Xavier turned to face the door once again, his hand resting on the handle as he prepared to step out into the cold streets. "Thanks again," he added, his tone carrying a finality that didn’t invite more questions.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed open the door and walked out, leaving the shop behind. His heart pounded a little harder now, not just from the looming threat of the N109 Zone, but from the resolve building inside him. There was no turning back now.

He had a tangible clue—a real, solid lead to your whereabouts. For the first time in weeks, the haze of uncertainty lifted ever so slightly. But now that he knew you were possibly in one of the most dangerous areas anyone could imagine, time was no longer on his side. Every second that ticked by felt heavier, pulling him deeper into the urgency of the situation. The N109 Zone wasn’t just dangerous; it was a place where people vanished, a place where hope died. He had no time to waste, but rushing in blindly would be suicide. He needed a plan.

Stepping into the cold evening air, Xavier pulled the pamphlet from his jacket pocket, its crinkled edges soft from being handled. His eyes scanned over the contents carefully. Make and model—simple enough, not much help now. A detailed diagram of the shoe—useful for recognition, maybe, but not a lifeline. Then his eyes caught something else—a faint address printed near the top. It was partially worn, barely legible, but there.

His heart skipped a beat. An address? Could this be where the shoe was made? Or where it was sold? Either way, it was another piece of the puzzle, and right now, it was the closest thing to a breadcrumb trail he had. He squinted at the faded letters, trying to make out every detail.

If this address was in the N109 Zone, it could lead him right into the heart of the danger. But it could also lead him to you.

His mind raced. First, he needed to confirm the location. Then he needed a plan—something better than just walking straight into the N109 Zone and hoping for the best.

Pulling out his hunter’s watch, Xavier quickly scanned the address printed on the pamphlet. The small device whirred to life, its holographic screen flickering as it worked to process the faint, worn-out text. A soft ding echoed in the quiet street as it started searching for the location. Xavier watched the screen intently, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

The map on the watch blinked, the dot moving erratically across an unmarked, shadowy area. It drifted back and forth, as though even the advanced technology in his hands was confused, struggling to pin down an exact location. Xavier frowned, watching the dot jitter across the screen. His stomach tightened with frustration. Was the address too old? Was it leading him nowhere?

Just when he thought the device might give up entirely, the dot paused. The holographic screen flickered once more, and with a soft chime, it glowed green in confirmation. The hunter's watch had finally locked on to a spot. Xavier stared at it, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. The place it had marked was deep within N109 Zone, tucked away in the heart of the most dangerous, uncharted part of the city.

He exhaled slowly, his mind running through a million possibilities. The watch’s confirmation meant something tangible, something real—but what waited for him there? He couldn’t shake the thought that this could be a trap, a place where the trail might lead to nothing, or worse, to more danger than he could anticipate. But it was also the only clue he had to your whereabouts.

Xavier closed his hand around the watch, feeling its faint warmth through his fingers. He knew what he had to do, but the enormity of it settled on his shoulders. This wasn’t just a simple lead anymore—it was a beacon, calling him into the depths of the N109 Zone. And whatever waited for him there, he would face it.

Because finding you was all that mattered.

As Xavier made his way through the still, empty streets back to his apartment, the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a faint, orange glow across the sky. His mind was already racing, formulating a plan. Gear, weapons,—he’d need everything ready before venturing into the N109 Zone.

But just as he turned the corner, his phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the early morning quiet. Xavier stopped, his brow furrowing as he fished the phone out of his pocket. It was a jarring sound—no one should be calling him at this early hour.

He glanced at the screen, squinting in confusion. The number was unknown, unfamiliar. His immediate thought was Captain Jenna—she was the only one who’d be up this early, possibly reaching out with new intel—but this wasn’t her number.

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Unknown number. His instincts screamed caution. In his line of work, random calls at odd hours rarely led to anything good. The number could belong to anyone—a lead, a warning, or worse, a trap.

But then again, it could be something important—something connected to you. He couldn't ignore the possibility.

Should he answer? The phone rang again, and with each buzz, the knot of uncertainty in his stomach tightened. Whoever it was, they wanted to reach him badly enough to call at this ungodly hour.

With a deep breath, Xavier made a decision and swiped to answer the call. "Hello?" His voice was guarded, careful.

For a moment, all Xavier could hear was silence, a thick void that made his pulse quicken. Then, suddenly, the sound of crackling static filled his ears, distorting the line. He frowned, his grip tightening on the phone. The static grew louder, chaotic, until it was abruptly interrupted by a voice—scared, desperate, and unmistakably familiar.

"Xavier? Is that you??"

His heart nearly stopped.

You kept running until your legs gave out, your breath ragged and chest burning, but you couldn’t stop. Not yet. An hour ago, you had been trapped, bound in your captor's suffocating bedroom, that thick invisible leash tightening around your neck with each passing day, stealing your hope, your strength. Every second felt like eternity in that room, but somehow, with some luck of a power outage of all things, you’d broken out of your cage. You’d ran—bolted into the cold night without looking back.

And now, you were almost free.

But “freedom” wasn’t what you had imagined. The streets stretched out before you, bleak and lifeless. It felt wrong. There was no joy in the air, no welcoming breeze to assure you of safety—only the gnawing sense that you had escaped one cage just to enter another. You recalled something Sylus, your captor, had mentioned in passing.

"Its always 'night' here", he'd said with a small smile, and now you truly realized he hadn’t been lying.

Darkness swallowed the entire area, a thick, unnatural veil over everything. Even though your eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, the eerie, half-flickering streetlights cast only dim pools of sickly yellow across the cracked pavement. The shadows loomed, stretching too far, hiding too much. You shivered, not just from the cold but from the haunting silence that wrapped around you.

The air itself felt thick, as if it was suffocating under the weight of secrets too dark, too dangerous to be spoken aloud. Each alley you passed felt like it was watching you, whispering silent threats from the shadows. Exhaustion clung to your limbs, and you had finally stopped, collapsing onto a broken bench under one of the few flickering streetlights that still worked. The cold metal dug into your skin, but you barely noticed. You were too busy trying to catch your breath, to steady your thoughts.

Where do you go now? You scanned your surroundings again, looking for anything that could offer direction, but the streets were as desolate as before. The same cracked pavement, the same looming shadows. No signs. No people. Just an eerie quiet.

A fleeting thought entered your mind—maybe there’s a train station nearby? The idea seemed almost laughable. Would it even take you to Linkon? And would you even make it to a station without getting caught?

You shook your head, mentally cursing yourself for the thought. Hitchhiking was another idea that crossed your mind—no way, you scolded yourself, brushing off the notion as quickly as it came. You probably couldn't trust anyone here. Not in a place like this. Here, trusting a stranger was as reckless as running blind into the dark.

But what other choice did you have? You couldn’t stay still for long; resting too much would make you an easy target. With a deep, shuddering breath, you forced yourself to stand again. Your legs trembled beneath you, but you kept moving, hoping—praying—you’d find someone who wasn’t out to harm you. Something that could help guide you out of this nightmare. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of fear pressing harder on your chest.

As your bare feet dragged across the cracked concrete, the desperation gnawed at you more fiercely. You were lost—physically and mentally. Each street looked the same, the darkness playing tricks on your eyes. Panic swelled in your throat. How long could you keep going like this? How much longer could you walk before your legs gave out? Before someone found you?

Your breaths came quicker, shallow with fear. You needed a way out, but the deeper you walked into the N109 Zone, the more it felt like the place was swallowing you whole. You were running out of time. Running out of hope.

And then finally, as if the cruel universe had decided to grant you another fleeting moment of mercy, you saw it—a faint glow of lights in the distance. Squinting, you could just make out a corner store, its soft, artificial light spilling onto the cracked sidewalk. A few people were loitering outside, giving the place a rare sense of life. A tired-looking woman clutched her child's hand tightly, and a man stood by, lazily smoking a cigar, his eyes scanning the street in disinterest. A couple of others hovered nearby, exchanging quiet words under the dim streetlight.

You couldn't believe your eyes. A store? Here? In the N109 Zone? It seemed almost surreal, like it had been plucked from another world and dropped into this forgotten wasteland. But it made sense in a grim way. Even in a place like this, people have to eat. Make a living.

With a rush of desperate energy, you hurried toward the store, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The people outside cast looks in your direction, but don't say anything. You stopped just short of the entrance, glancing down at yourself for the first time. You must look insane. A nightgown hung loosely around your body, dirty and torn at the edges. No shoes. No socks. Your hair was tangled and wild from the running. The sight of yourself made you wince in embarrassment, but there was no time to care about that now.

Pushing the door open, you were greeted by a dimly lit but surprisingly ordinary scene. The inside of the corner store looked like any other—aisles of candy, snacks, cheap knick knacks and toys stacked high. It was a stark contrast to the dangerous, shadowy streets just outside. But one sight caught your attention above all: the food.

Your stomach growled loudly, twisting with hunger. You hadn’t eaten since the chicken dinner Sylus had provided before your “outburst.” You hadn't been able to finish it, and now the exhaustion from running had made the hunger almost unbearable. Your mouth watered at the thought of eating, but there was one major problem—you had no gold.

Your heart sank as you stared at the rows of candy bars and instant noodles. How were you going to get anything?

Anxiously, you shuffled toward the front counter, your nerves jangling with every step. When you reached it, you hesitated for a moment, staring at the small bell. With trembling fingers, you tapped it.

A disheveled-looking man, his hair sticking out in uneven tufts, glanced up from behind the counter. He had been glued to his phone, and the interruption clearly annoyed him. His eyes landed on you, and for a brief second, he just stared, taking in your disarrayed appearance before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Can I...help you?" he asked, dragging out the words as if the very act of speaking was a burden.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but your mind raced with too many conflicting emotions—fear, embarrassment, hunger. What could you even say?

"I've been kidnapped," you blurt out, your voice shaky and desperate. You opened your mouth to explain further, to tell him everything—how you had escaped, how you were on the run, how you needed help—but before you could get another word out, the man snorted.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before," he said dismissively, leaning back on his chair with an exaggerated sigh. "Who hasn't been kidnapped at least once around here?"

His casual tone hit you like a slap. The raw urgency in your voice was met with nothing but apathy. Your heart sank. He wasn’t going to take you seriously. You were just another story in a place like this, another desperate face with nowhere to go. You stood there, frozen, trying to comprehend how someone could be so indifferent to your situation.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the frustration welling up inside you. "Please, I'm serious. I just need—"

"Look," the man interrupted, cutting you off again, his eyes barely lifting from his phone. "You want something, buy it. Otherwise, move along. I’m not here for charity cases."

You glanced at the counter, the rows of candy, snacks, and drinks just inches away, knowing you had nothing to pay with. Desperation clawed at your insides. You were exhausted, starving, and running out of options.

"I don't have any gold... do you ha-have a phone?" you asked again, your voice trembling as you blinked back the hot tears threatening to spill. How could someone be so indifferent to the obvious suffering staring him in the face?

"Broken," he said flatly, still not bothering to look up from his phone. His disinterest was like a physical blow. "And… gold? What are you, some Linkcunt citizen?"

The venom in his words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Linkcunt citizen? The insult was harsh, dripping with disdain, and it sent a sudden wave of anger rushing through you.

"Yes, I’m from Linkon," you correct, the frustration and fear bubbling over into your voice. "What’s with the attitude? What did I do to you? I'm asking for help!"

He finally looked up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t friendly. It was mocking.

"What did you do? Nothing. That’s the problem. Linkon folk come down here thinking they’re better than everyone, tossing around their fancy gold and expecting the world to hand them everything." He shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt.

"You want help? Then you’d better figure out how things work around here real fast, princess. No one's gonna hand you anything for free."

You felt your fists clench at his words, the anger mixing with a deeper sense of helplessness. You hadn’t asked to be here. You hadn’t asked for any of this. And yet, standing in this grimy corner store in the depths of the N109 Zone, it was clear that no one cared about your suffering. Not here. You weren’t in Linkon anymore.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to calm down, swallowing the anger rising in your throat. Getting into a fight with this clerk wouldn’t help you, not now. But the bitterness of his words lingered, and you realized just how alone you truly were in this place.

Silently, you turned your back to the greasy man behind the counter, his words still echoing in your mind as you began to walk up and down the aisles. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of hunger, thirst, and sheer exhaustion pulling at you. Your stomach growled, gnawing at your insides, reminding you just how long it had been since you'd eaten.

But something else gnawed at you too—something that made your skin crawl with discomfort. You hadn't changed your pad for hours, and now the sticky, damp feeling clung uncomfortably between your legs. The sudden realization hit you, a wave of disgust washing over you as you winced.

Swallowing hard, you glanced over toward the feminine hygiene aisle. Rows of necessities lined the shelves—pads, tampons, basic supplies—just out of reach. You stared at them, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't just food you needed now. You couldn’t go on like this.

But you had no credit cards. No way to purchase anything. Nothing.

Your eyes flicked back toward the front of the store, where the disinterested clerk sat, still engrossed in his phone. He wasn’t paying attention to you. He didn’t care. Nobody here did.

You felt a knot tighten in your throat as the harsh reality of the situation settled in. You had to steal. There was no other choice. You hated the thought of it—hated how low it made you feel—but survival wasn’t a matter of pride. Not here. Not now.

Your fingers trembled as you looked back at the shelves. You knew what you had to do.

The clerk still wasn’t paying attention, his face lit by the glow of his phone. His indifference might be your only saving grace. You could do this—quickly, quietly, and then you’d be gone.

With shaky hands you reach for a plastic bag that had fallen on the ground. The bag felt like a shield, something to hide the weight of what you were about to do. You didn’t think twice as you moved toward the feminine hygiene aisle, knowing you couldn’t walk any further in your current state. You reached for a pack of pads, your movements slow and deliberate. Your heart pounded in your chest, loud enough that it felt like the entire store could hear it.

Next, you hurried down the snack aisle, grabbing a few protein bars, a small bag of chips, and a bottle of water, all of which disappeared into the bag as your pulse raced in your ears.

You glanced toward the counter, your body tense with anxiety. The clerk still hadn’t looked up, completely absorbed in his phone. The faint, unmistakable sound of pornography drifted from his speakers, making your stomach churn in disgust. You twisted your face, feeling a wave of revulsion wash over you, but you couldn’t afford to stop now.

He was utterly oblivious to your frantic movements, his attention locked on the screen, but that didn't ease the gnawing sensation in your gut. Every step felt like you were tiptoeing across a minefield, a ticking clock counting down to disaster. Even though he wasn’t watching, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was.

With the bag now heavy in your hands, you made your way toward the exit, each step carefully measured, your breath shallow as you fought to keep calm. The distance between you and the door seemed endless, as if every inch stretched into miles. But finally, your trembling hand closed around the cold metal of the handle.

Your heart raced as you crossed the threshold, bracing yourself for the inevitable—a shrill, deafening alarm that would shatter the silence and expose your crime to the world. You waited for it, your breath caught in your throat, ready to bolt at the first sound.

But nothing came.

No alarm. No piercing siren. The only thing you could hear was the frantic beating of your own heart as the door swung shut behind you with a quiet click.

For a moment, you stood there, frozen in place, not daring to move. The cool night air brushed against your skin, grounding you in the eerie quiet. The world outside the store felt impossibly still. It took a few seconds for your brain to register that you had made it out—unseen, unheard.

You swallowed hard, keeping your head down as you hurried past the few patrons lingering near the store. Their eyes followed your every step, and you could feel their gazes crawling over you, judging, curious. Did they happen to care, or did you just look that insane?

The woman with the child pulled her daughter closer as you passed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. The man smoking his cigar gave you a long, leering stare, as if trying to figure out what your story was. The others whispered quietly among themselves, but you couldn’t make out the words, nor did you want to. You kept walking, willing yourself to be invisible, but the tension in the air made your skin prickle.

Once you were a safe distance away from the store, you ducked down an empty alley, the shadows wrapping around you like a cloak. The world outside was still bleak, the flickering streetlights casting only the faintest glow, but here in the quiet, you finally had a moment to breathe.

You found a relatively clean spot, tucked behind an old dumpster, and set the bag down beside you. Your hands shook as you reached into the bag for the pack of pads. The discomfort and itch between your legs had grown unbearable, and the relief of changing, even in such a grim place, was something you couldn't put off any longer.

Quickly, you adjusted yourself, wincing at the feeling of the old pad peeling away. You worked fast, knowing you couldn’t linger here for long. Once you were done, you felt a small sense of relief—at least one problem had been solved.

Next, you pulled out the snacks. The hunger was still clawing at you, and the sight of the protein bars and chips made your stomach ache even more. Tearing into a protein bar, you ate quickly, barely tasting the food as you devoured it, desperate to fuel your exhausted body. The bottle of water came next, and you drank it down in large, gulping swallows.

For the first time since you had escaped, you felt a flicker of calm. It wasn’t much, and it wouldn’t last, but here in this dark corner, with food in your stomach and a small bit of comfort, you allowed yourself a brief moment to breathe.

But the quiet didn’t last. You knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. You had to get moving at some point or Sylus would find you. This place was unforgiving, and survival demanded more than just temporary refuge.

Tucking the remaining items back into the bag, you sigh in satisfaction, glancing around to make sure no one had followed you. The streets were still empty. For now, you were alone. You had survived one more step in this nightmare, but you knew it wasn’t over yet.

Some time passes and you can slowly feel yourself falling asleep against the dumpster.

As you crouched in the dim alley, trying to fight off exhaustion and gather your thoughts, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. Slow, steady, and casual, accompanied by a faint, off-key whistling. You stiffened, instinctively pulling the bag closer to your chest.

The footsteps stopped just a few feet away, and then came the voice—low, cautious, but curious.

"Hey, you okay?"

You glanced up warily, your eyes landing on the figure standing at the mouth of the alley. He was tall, maybe in his mid-thirties, with shaggy, unkempt brown hair that fell just above his eyes. His clothes were worn—faded jeans and a jacket that had seen better days—but he didn’t look like the rough types you usually imagined when you thought of the N109 Zone. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked casually into his pockets, but his sharp, dark eyes were fixed on you, a flicker of concern—or maybe something else—dancing behind them.

His face was hard to read. He had a slight stubble covering his jaw, giving him a rugged, almost tired appearance. His lips quirked in what might’ve been a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at you—like he was curious, but also sizing you up. Not in an aggressive way, but in a way that made you wonder why he’d stopped to talk to you at all.

"Are you... lost?" he asked, stepping forward slowly, the whistling tune dying in the air. His voice was softer now, almost as if he was trying to be gentle, but his presence made the space around you feel even smaller.

"What happened to your arm?"

You swallowed hard, trying your best to keep your gaze on him. You had honestly completely forgotten about the scar on you arm. As much as you wanted to explain, every instinct screamed to stay wary. This wasn’t a place where strangers helped out of kindness, and you knew better than to trust easily. But as exhausted and desperate as you were, you weren’t sure if you could afford to push away help, even from someone who might have their own agenda.

"I—I need help," you stammered, your voice shaky, barely managing to push the words past your tightening throat. Your body trembled, a mix of nerves and exhaustion leaving you on edge. You hugged the bag tighter to your chest, every muscle in your body tense. "But... don't come any closer just yet."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression shifting, though he made no move forward. He stayed where he was, his hands still in his pockets, the dim streetlight casting long shadows on his face. For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with tension as he watched you.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice calm and even, though the curiosity in his eyes never wavered. He tilted his head, taking in your ragged appearance with a deeper interest. "No problem. I’m not here to scare you. Just trying to figure out what you're doing out here all alone."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. You needed help, but trust was a dangerous thing in a place like this. Still, you were running out of options. Your mind raced as you tried to decide what to say next.

You hesitated, your mind racing as you weighed the risks. Could you trust him? Telling the truth might make you vulnerable, but lying wouldn’t get you far either. You had to say something—anything—to explain why you were here.

"I was kidnapped," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Your voice wavered, a tremor of fear running through you as you spoke. "I escaped… I don’t know where I am. I just need to get somewhere safe and rest so I can get home later."

The man’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He studied you, eyes narrowing as if trying to assess whether or not you were telling the truth. His silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, making your heart pound faster in your chest.

"You’re serious?" he finally asked, his tone more subdued now, almost disbelieving but not dismissive. He took a small step back, showing that he wasn’t going to invade your space. "You really got away from someone?"

You nodded, the tension in your body still coiled tight, waiting for his reaction. You couldn't tell if he believed you, but you hoped—desperately—that he wouldn’t press too hard or turn you away.

The man stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning your face, as if trying to read the truth in your expression. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his posture softening just slightly.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but firm. "If you're telling the truth... then you’ve got bigger problems than just being lost."

He glanced around, checking the street behind him as if making sure no one else was nearby, then he looked back at you, his face more serious now. "You can’t stay out here. This place— the N109 Zone—it’s not somewhere you want to be wandering around alone, especially if someone’s looking for you."

You felt a shiver run down your spine. You already knew the N109 Zone was dangerous, but hearing it from him made it feel even more real.

"Look," he continued, his voice softening. "I’m not gonna hurt you. If you need help, I can take you somewhere safer. But you’ve gotta trust me, and you’ve gotta move quick. If they’re after you, it’s only a matter of time before they find you out here."

He waited, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to see if you’d accept his offer—or run.

You hesitated for a long moment, scanning the man’s face for any sign of deceit. His expression was calm, almost unnervingly so, but something about his demeanor made you feel that, for now, you didn’t have much of a choice. If he meant harm, he could’ve acted already. Swallowing hard, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’ll come with you.”

He nodded in return, offering nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgment before turning and motioning for you to follow. "My place isn’t far. You can rest there, maybe clean up a bit. It’ll give you a few hours before you have to figure out what’s next."

You fell in step behind him, your bare feet quiet against the cracked pavement. The streets were eerily silent, save for the occasional distant hum of passing cars. You hugged the bag closer to your chest, still tense but too tired to think about running. As you walked through the dim streets, a question lingered in the back of your mind.

"I'm surprised you stopped to help me," you finally said, your voice tentative. "Most people here…they wouldn’t have even looked twice."

He glanced back at you, barely breaking stride, and shrugged. "I’ve seen worse things in this place. Trust me, a girl lost in an alley isn't the strangest thing I’ve come across." His tone was casual, almost detached, as if this was just another day in the chaotic world of the N109 Zone.

His nonchalance unnerved you. Why was he so calm? Your anxiety spiked for a moment, thoughts racing. Maybe you had made the wrong choice. Maybe he had his own agenda, like everyone else in this place. But then again, he hadn’t tried to harm you. If he wanted to, he would've done so. You weighed your options, feeling the tug of paranoia, but exhaustion and desperation had their hold. You pushed the doubt aside. For now, you decided to trust him, even if only for a few hours.

As you walked in silence, the two of you eventually came across something you hadn’t expected to see: an old, grimy phone booth, its glass cracked but still intact, standing at the edge of a corner. A relic from another time, long since forgotten by most.

Your heart skipped a beat. A phone. You might be able to call Xavier.

"Do you have any… uh, quarters?" you asked, your voice tight with desperation. You hadn’t thought about it before, but now it seemed obvious. Linkon City had long left behind the need for such old currency—everything there was digital, clean, modern. But here, in the N109 Zone, where everything felt stuck in time, of course they still used quarters. It made sense in this broken-down world.

He stopped, watching you for a moment before sighing. "Yeah, hang on." He fumbled in his pockets for a few seconds, fishing around with a slight look of annoyance. After a bit of clattering, he pulled out a few quarters, handing them over to you without a word.

Your hands trembled as you took them. This could be your chance—your lifeline. You stepped inside the booth, hoping that the old machine would still work, and stared at the dirty receiver.

You stared at the old rotary dial for a moment, panic rising in your chest. You tried to remember how it worked as you slipped the coins in the slot. It had been so long since you’d read about one of these—everything in Linkon was sleek, touch-based, connected by the web. But here, in this forgotten part of the world, you were holding a piece of the past. The process felt foreign, archaic.

Your mind raced, desperately trying to recall Xavier’s number. What was it? You racked your brain, images of his scribbled phone number from messages, fragments of conversations, all blurred together. The numbers danced in your head as you tried to piece them together.

Your heart pounded louder, matching the beat of the seconds slipping away. You were running out of time. With a trembling hand, you began dialing the numbers, trying to focus on every movement, praying you’d gotten it right.

The dial clicked as it spun back after each number, the mechanical sound unnervingly slow. The receiver crackled in your ear as the phone began to ring.

Please, Xavier... please pick up.

The ringing felt endless, each second a heavier weight pressing on your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the receiver tight. The noise around you seemed to fade into the background as you waited, hoping, praying that on the other end of the line, he’d be there—ready to hear you, ready to help.

The phone rang again... and again.

Your breath caught in your throat, a prayer hanging on the edge of each ring.

"Hello?" A timid, cautious male voice came through the receiver, muffled by the crackling static, but it was unmistakable.

Relief crashed over you like a wave, and you nearly collapsed right there in the grimy phone booth, your knees buckling as the sound of Xavier's voice reached your ears. After everything—you finally had a connection to him. Tears welled up in your eyes, your breath shaky as you clutched the receiver tighter.

"Xavier!! Xavier, thank god!" you cried, your voice raw with desperation. "I don't even know where to start..."

But after your outburst, only silence greeted you. The line crackled, sputtering with age, the static drowning out whatever response might have come. Frustration surged through you as you gripped the receiver, shaking it in a vain attempt to clear the line. You banged the phone against the booth, biting back a sob as the interference persisted. This thing must be older than you thought. How could it fail you now?

Finally, the crackling stopped, leaving only a tense, quiet hum on the other end.

"Xavier? Is that you??" you asked, your voice trembling, barely holding back the panic. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing this fragile connection—this one thin lifeline.

The line crackled for a moment before Xavier’s voice came through, steady and calm, but with a layer of unmistakable relief.

"It’s you…," Xavier said, his voice soft but firm, as if he’d been holding onto hope for so long that hearing your voice felt like a lifeline. "I’m so glad you’re alive. Are you okay? Where are you?"

The sound of his voice sent another wave of emotion crashing over you. You sob, your body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t alone. He had been looking for you, and now, he was coming.

"Xavier…I was kidnapped," you sobbed, the words finally breaking free, the fear and terror of the last few days pouring out. "I escaped. I’m cold, hurt and scared..."

His response was immediate, his tone both calming and steady, as if he was trying to comfort you even from miles away. "I’m here now. I’ve got you. Just breathe, okay? I’m coming for you. I just need a better idea of where you are."

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep it together, but the tears threatened to spill over. "I don’t know where exactly… all I know is I’m in the N109 Zone. I found a phone booth near a corner store. Everything around here looks abandoned."

There was a brief pause on the other end as Xavier processed the information. "Alright," he said firmly. "Stay there, I'll try and track the location of the phone booth. I’m on my way. Just… hold on a little longer, okay?"

"I—" you hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the man who had helped you. "I actually found a really nice man. He’s letting me rest at his place. He hasn’t hurt me at all, so don’t worry. He says his place isn’t far from here. I’ll come back to the phone and give you the details after I see it."

Xavier’s voice tightened slightly, the concern clear. "I don’t like the sound of that. Just… be careful. I’m coming as fast as I can. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, alright? If anything feels wrong, leave. Fight like hell if you need to."

"I will," you whispered, gripping the receiver tightly. "Just hurry, please."

"I promise I’m coming," Xavier said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He paused, just for a second, before continuing. "One more thing though—do you remember who took you? I’ll need a name, in case…in case I don't find you when I arrive. I don’t want to lose you again."

Your heart raced as memories of your captor flashed in your mind. "Yeah! His name is S—"

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for an additional 3 minutes," the automated voice cut in sharply, drowning out your words.

Panic surged through you. The call had abruptly ended, the receiver in your hand now silent except for the monotonous prompt asking for more coins. You frantically searched your pockets, but you had no more quarters.

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for—"

You screamed, the frustration boiling over as you kicked the phone, the clanging metal reverberating through the phone booth. Your hand gripped the receiver so tightly your knuckles lost circulation, and with a final surge of anger, you thrashed against the booth, the tears you’d been holding back now streaming down your face.

"Xavier!?" you yelled into the dead line, your voice cracking with desperation. He had to hear you. He had to. But all that came through was the cold, indifferent tone of the automated voice, endlessly repeating its demand for more quarters, as if mocking your panic.

You slammed the receiver down, the booth suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. Every second that ticked by was a second lost, a moment Xavier might not know who had taken you, might not know how to find you.

With a deep, shaky breath, you stepped out of the booth, blinking away the tears.

"Do...you have any more quarters?" you ask, tears threatening to spill from your face at any moment now.

The man outside the phone booth shifted awkwardly and shook his head, his eyes flickering between you and the dark street. He had watched you from the moment you’d rushed into the booth, but now, as you sobbed, his discomfort was clear. He took a slow step forward, clearing his throat, but didn’t say anything at first, unsure of what to do.

"You, uh... you okay?" he asked finally, his voice soft but uneasy. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing around as if he wasn’t used to being in such an emotional situation.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to calm your breathing, but the tears kept coming. The overwhelming frustration of losing the connection with Xavier left you feeling exposed and helpless. You didn’t know what to say to the man, couldn’t find the words to explain the weight of everything crashing down on you at once.

He hesitated, then sighed, taking another step closer. "Look, uh… if it’s about the call, I’m sure your guy’s coming. Sounds like he cares. You just... you know, gotta hang in there. We’ll get to my place soon, and you can rest."

His words, though clumsy, were an attempt at comfort. But even as he tried to reassure you, his uncertainty showed in the way he avoided your gaze, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle someone breaking down in front of him.

You sniffed, nodding slightly, feeling drained from the outburst. "Yeah… yeah, I’ll be fine," you muttered, wiping your face with the sleeve of your nightgown, though you weren’t sure you believed it.

The two of you resumed walking, your steps slow and heavy as you sniffled, trying to hold back the tears that still threatened to spill. The man walked beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets, glancing at you now and then with an awkwardness that was hard to miss. He wasn’t saying much, just occasionally looking around as if he wished there was something more he could do, but he seemed completely out of his depth when it came to comforting anyone, let alone a woman on the verge of breaking down.

"You’ll, uh, feel better once we get there," he mumbled, his voice low and sheepish. "It’s not much, but at least you can get some sleep. Maybe eat something."

You nodded, biting your lip as you fought to compose yourself, trying not to let your emotions overwhelm you again. The air between you felt thick, filled with unspoken words and awkward tension. He kept glancing at you as if he wanted to say something more, but each time, he swallowed the words, guiding you quietly through the darkened streets.

The city around you was eerily quiet, the desolation of the N109 Zone even more pronounced in the silence. The flickering streetlights barely illuminated your path, casting long shadows that stretched across the cracked pavement. You hugged your arms close to your body, your mind still reeling from the failed call, but you focused on just putting one foot in front of the other.

The man cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "I’m… not really good at this kind of thing, you know," he admitted, his tone awkward, almost apologetic. "But you’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it."

You nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak. His words were clumsy, but there was a strange sincerity in them. Despite his unease, it seemed like he really was trying to help, even if he didn’t quite know how to do it.

As the silence stretched on, the weight of everything hanging between you, you glanced at him through the dim light. His awkwardness, his uncertainty—it was all so clear. But despite everything, he had helped you. He had taken you in when you had nowhere else to go. Given you the last of his quarters. You swallowed, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

"I didn’t catch your name, by the way," you said softly, your voice still a little shaky.

He blinked, as if surprised you’d asked. His steps slowed for a moment before he gave a small, awkward shrug. "Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I didn’t say." He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the ground as he seemed to search for the right words. "It’s Reese," he finally muttered. "Not much of a name, but it’s mine."

You offered a small, tired smile, your voice soft. "Reese… thanks for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—" You stopped yourself, the weight of your situation pressing on your chest again.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah, well… I’m no hero. Just didn’t seem right to leave you out there. Not in a place like this."

As the two of you walked in silence, Reese cleared his throat, glancing over at you with a bit more confidence than before. "So… what’s your name? Figured if we’re gonna be walking together, I should know who I’m helping."

You hesitated, your heart racing slightly. Trust wasn’t something you could afford so easily, not here, not now. Despite his awkward attempts to help, you weren’t ready to give him your real name. Better to be cautious, you reminded yourself. You forced a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady.

"It’s...Mephisto," you said, the lie rolling off your tongue before you could second-guess it. You had vaguely remembered Sylus calling out the name to someone from outside the door, to who you weren't sure. One of his men probably.

Reese nodded, seemingly taking your answer at face value, no suspicion in his expression. "Alright," he said, giving a half-smile. "Nice to meet you Miss Mephisto, despite the strange name."

You nodded back, feeling the weight of the lie settle inside you. It wasn’t much, but it gave you a small layer of protection—just in case. You still didn’t know Reese’s full intentions, and trust here could be a dangerous thing.

"Nice to meet you too, Reese," you replied softly, glancing around the darkened street.

After what felt like an eternity of walking through the dark, desolate streets of the N109 Zone, you and Reese finally reached his place. The house stood at the end of a narrow alley, tucked between two crumbling, abandoned buildings. It wasn’t much to look at—dingy, with peeling paint and windows that seemed to have long lost their clarity. The front door sagged slightly on its hinges, the wood scuffed and weathered, as if it had seen better days a long time ago.

Reese unlocked the door with a bit of effort, pushing it open with a low creak. Inside, the air was stale but warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside. The place was small, cluttered, and dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. The furnishings were old, mismatched, and worn—a threadbare couch sat in the corner, covered in a faded blanket. The walls were bare except for a few crooked picture frames, and the carpet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Still, despite its grimy appearance, there was a strange sense of comfort to the place, like someone had lived here for a long time and had made it home in their own way.

"You can sit over there if you want," Reese said, motioning to the couch. "It’s not much, but it’s better than the streets."

You nodded, stepping inside cautiously. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details—the scuffed coffee table with a few empty bottles on it, the stack of old magazines piled up against one wall. It didn’t scream danger, but you couldn’t shake the wary feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Something about the whole situation made you uneasy. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the smell of old dust, or just the lingering doubt about trusting someone so easily in a place like this.

Still, exhaustion weighed heavily on your body, and the promise of rest—any rest—was too tempting to ignore. You sat down on the couch, the worn cushions sinking under you, and pulled the bag of pads closer to your chest. Reese seemed harmless enough, but you reminded yourself to stay on guard. You weren’t out of danger yet.

Reese busied himself, tossing a few items around to clear space, but the house remained eerily quiet.

As you settled into the couch, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible, a sudden noise from the backyard broke the uneasy silence. It was faint, but distinct—a thud, followed by the faint sound of something shuffling or dragging. Your heart leapt, and you sat up a little straighter, your eyes darting toward the back of the house.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice tense as you turned to look at Reese.

He froze for a split second, the calm, awkward demeanor you’d come to expect from him faltering. His eyes widened slightly, and he gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, that?" he said, his voice higher than usual. "It’s just… my dog. Yeah, he’s in the shed out back. I forgot to mention him earlier."

You watched him closely, feeling the tension spike in the room. There was something off about the way he said it, the quickness in his tone as if he were scrambling to come up with an explanation.

"Your dog?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady, though doubt gnawed at the back of your mind.

"Yeah," he said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. "He’s old, doesn’t like people much, so I keep him out there. No big deal."

His words didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing his response, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. The uneasy feeling from earlier returned, stronger this time, creeping up your spine.

"Right," you muttered, still watching him carefully, but you decided not to push further. Not yet.

"Um... coffee?" Reese blurted out suddenly, his voice still laced with that nervous edge. He offered a forced smile, clearly trying to redirect the tension hanging thick in the air. He rubbed his hands together, glancing toward the small, cluttered kitchen. "I could make us some. Might help, you know, after everything you’ve been through."

You hesitated, still on edge from the strange noise outside and his quick, jittery explanation. Something didn’t feel right, but you weren’t sure if pushing him now would help or only make things worse. You forced a smile of your own, your mind still racing with questions.

"Sure," you said quietly, your voice flat as you tried to calm your nerves. "Coffee sounds good."

Reese nodded, too eagerly, and moved toward the kitchen, fumbling with an old coffee pot. The clattering of cups and the rush of water filled the silence, but your mind was still focused on that noise outside. A dog in the shed? It seemed like a weak excuse, but you didn’t know him well enough to push it.

You leaned back into the couch, the worn fabric sinking beneath you as your eyes drifted toward the back door. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that maybe Reese wasn’t telling you everything. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. You were exhausted, but you couldn't let your guard down.

Reese finished brewing the coffee after a few moments, bringing it over to you in a green, cracked mug. You took it from him with a polite smile, setting it down on the coffee table untouched. The steam curled up from the cup, filling the small room with the faint scent of stale coffee. Reese sat across from you, sipping from his own mug, but you couldn’t help but notice how distracted he seemed.

He kept glancing toward the window, then back at his watch, over and over. Each time, his face tensed a little more, as though he were expecting something—or someone. Your wariness only grew.

What is he looking for?

The air felt thick with unspoken tension, and your mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the noise in the backyard wasn’t as innocent as he’d made it sound.

"So…uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert.

"Dog? What dog?" Reese said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question.

"You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence, and then you saw it—realization hit him like a brick. His eyes widened as he turned to look at you, panic flickering across his face.

You sat up straighter, your heart starting to race. He’d lied. And now he knew you knew.

"Uh, I mean—" he stammered, his voice shaky, "I meant, uh, Rex. Yeah, his name’s Rex. Sorry, I’m just… distracted." He forced a weak smile, but the panic was still there, clear as day. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

You shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room thickening with every second that passed after Reese's panicked slip. His eyes kept darting between you and the window, as if something outside demanded his attention. Your pulse quickened as the uneasy feeling deepened. Something wasn’t right, and you knew you had to get out of there.

"I should…go," you said, forcing a smile as you slowly stood up, trying to keep your voice casual. "Y'know... Xavier’s probably found the phone booth by now. I should go back and meet him."

Reese blinked, his expression tightening for a split second. The forced calm he'd been trying to maintain wavered as he set his mug down on the table a little too quickly, the clink of the ceramic against wood echoing in the silence. "Go? Already?" He scratched the back of his neck again, his voice strained. "I mean, it’s cold, and it’s not safe out there… Maybe you should wait a little longer."

You swallowed hard, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. Every instinct told you to get out, but you had to keep your cool. "Thanks for the coffee and everything, but I don’t want Xavier to worry," you replied, taking a step toward the door. "I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse, remember?"

Reese stood up as well, his movements stiff, like he was trying to decide whether to stop you. His gaze flickered toward the window again, and his voice dropped. "Yeah, I get it. But, uh… maybe just a few more minutes. You don’t want to be out there alone, do you?"

You glanced toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The unease that had been lurking beneath the surface now felt like a solid weight pressing down on you. Something was very wrong, and you needed to leave—now.

"No, I’m leaving. Thank you for everything, but I need to go," you said, your voice steady despite the panic bubbling under the surface. You tried to move past Reese, your eyes focused on the door, your heart pounding with the hope of reaching it before things got worse.

But then Reese stepped in front of you, his whole demeanor changing in an instant. "No," he said flatly, his voice suddenly devoid of the awkwardness and sheepishness he’d shown before. His tone was cold, almost emotionless, as he closed the distance between you with startling speed.

Before you could react, you felt it—the cold press of metal against your neck. Your breath caught in your throat, and your body froze as the unmistakable sensation of a gun pressed hard into your skin.

"You're not going anywhere," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. His earlier nervousness was completely gone, replaced by something dark and dangerous. "Sit back down."

Your heart raced, your mind scrambling for a way out, but all you could feel was the sharp edge of fear coursing through you. You swallowed hard, trying not to move too quickly, knowing that with one wrong step, things could spiral even further out of control.

"Reese… please," you whispered, barely able to keep your voice from shaking. "You don’t have to do this."

His eyes flickered with something—anger, desperation—but his grip on the gun didn’t waver. "Just sit down, and no one has to get hurt."

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but for now, all you could do was comply and hope that Xavier was still coming for you.

"I promised them a girl..." Reese muttered, his voice trembling slightly, though the gun still pressed firmly against your neck as you looked up at him from the couch. He glanced away from you, his guilt briefly flickering in his eyes. "Then you just... happened to be there. Right place, wrong time, I guess. So...this is how it has to be."

His words hung in the air, cold and final.

"I’m sorry," he added, though there was no comfort in his apology—just a hollow attempt at easing his own conscience.

Your breath hitched as you tried to process his words, the full weight of the situation crushing down on you. He wasn’t just some awkward guy helping you out of kindness. He had been waiting for someone—anyone—to fill a promise. And you had walked right into it.

As you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, the cold barrel of the gun pressed against your neck, the door creaked open. Another man stepped into the room. He was taller than Reese, with a thick, rough appearance—his face shadowed by the dim light. His eyes swept the room, landing on you, taking in the situation with a detached indifference.

"Is this the girl you promised?" the man asked, his voice low and gruff, as if he’d been through this kind of scene too many times to be surprised by it. His gaze shifted briefly to Reese, then back to you, narrowing with interest.

You felt a chill run down your spine as his question hung in the air.

Reese didn’t move the gun from your neck, but you could feel the tension in his body shift as he glanced over at the man, clearly nervous about his arrival. "Yeah, this is her," Reese replied, his voice tight. "I just… need a few more minutes to get her to cooperate."

The other man stepped closer, his boots heavy on the floor. His eyes raked over you, cold and calculating. "No time for that," he said flatly. "Get her in the basement. You know how this works, Reese."

Your pulse quickened, fear gripping you tighter as you looked from one man to the other, your mind spinning with panic. What were they planning? You needed to find a way out, and fast, before things escalated even further.

"You’re making a mistake," you said, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay calm. "Someone’s coming for me. If you don’t let me go, it’s going to get a lot worse for both of you."

As the weight of your words hung in the air, you weren’t even sure who you were referring to in that moment—Sylus, the man who had kidnapped you in the first place, or Xavier, the one coming to save you. Both names were tangled up in your desperation, your mind too frantic to distinguish between them. All you could do was hope that the threat would ring true, that it would be enough to make Reese think twice.

The taller man smirked, clearly unimpressed. "We’ll see about that," he muttered, turning his back toward the door to pull up the carpet, leaving you alone with Reese and the gun still pressed to your neck. You watch as a metal trap door with a handle is revealed to have been hidden under the carpet and you gasp.

Instinct kicked in, and without thinking, you twisted suddenly, using the brief distraction in Reese’s hesitation to try and break free. You shoved his arm away with everything you had, knocking the gun off balance. For a moment, you thought you had a chance, adrenaline flooding your body as you fought with all the strength you could muster.

"Let go of me!" you screamed, thrashing and kicking as hard as you could. Your elbow connected with Reese's side, and he let out a sharp grunt, but his grip tightened. His face twisted in a mixture of frustration and fear, and he fought back, grabbing your arm and wrenching you toward him.

"Stop it!" Reese growled, struggling to maintain control, but you weren’t going down without a fight. You kicked at his legs, but his hold on you only grew stronger.

The door to the basement creaked open, and before you could react, the taller man reappeared, grabbing you by the other arm. His grip was like iron, and between the two of them, they overpowered you. Your heart pounded as you screamed and clawed, your feet scraping against the floor, but the force of their combined strength was too much.

"No! Please—" you gasped, trying to twist free, but they dragged you toward the open door.

The tall man grunted with effort as they forced you toward the dark, looming stairwell. "Get her down there already," he growled, his tone sharp and impatient.

You struggled even harder, but your muscles were weakening, the adrenaline starting to fade as fear took over. They shoved you roughly down the narrow staircase, and you stumbled, catching yourself against the damp wall. The dimness of the basement swallowed you whole, the air cold and musty. You could feel the fear wrapping around you, tighter with each step they forced you to take.

The taller man was close behind, his heavy footsteps echoing in the cold, damp basement. You felt his rough hand grab the bottom of your nightgown, his fingers curling into the fabric. Panic surged through you as his cold hand snaked across your belly, the touch sending a shiver of disgust up your spine.

You screamed, thrashing wildly against his grip, but his strength overpowered you. The man leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Wouldn't hurt to try her out before the boss gets here..." His voice was thick with lust, and his eyes gleamed with a hunger that turned your stomach.

His hand slid lower, his fingers beginning to snake inside your underwear. You could feel his hard on pressed against your backside. Fear and revulsion took over, and you knew you had to do something—anything—to stop him.

Thinking fast, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, your voice desperate and shaking. "I'm bleeding! I'm on my period!"

The words seemed to stop him in his tracks. His hand paused, the twisted hunger in his eyes faltering for a moment as confusion flickered across his face.

"You’re what?" he muttered, his brow furrowing. His grip loosened just slightly, enough for you to take a sharp breath, your heart still racing.

"I’m on my period," you repeated, your voice trembling. "It’s—it’s bad. You don’t want to do this right now."

For a brief second, his disgusted expression told you that he was weighing his options. The thought of period blood clearly repulsed him, and his hand slowly pulled away from your underwear, his lips curling in frustration.

"You’re lucky," he growled, wiping his hand on his pants, his face twisted with disdain. "But don’t think that saves you."

His hand shot up before you could react, grabbing a fistful of your hair and dragging you across the rough concrete floor toward the makeshift shower installed in the corner of the basement. Your scalp throbbed with each pull, the pain sharpening with every step, but you bit your lip, refusing to cry out.

He threw you against the cold, damp wall, the chill seeping through the thin fabric of your nightgown. You barely had time to catch your breath before he twisted the rusty shower handle. Water burst from the nozzle, freezing and unforgiving.

“So filthy,” he sneered, standing over you as the icy water soaked your clothes, plastering them to your skin. “Maybe this will help?"

The cold bit into your bones, and you hugged yourself, trembling, struggling to stay upright as the water pounded down. He stood there a moment longer, watching with twisted satisfaction, before finally turning away, leaving you shivering on the cold, wet floor of the basement.

Sobbing on the cold, unforgiving basement floor, you shiver, your body pressed against the damp concrete, each breath heavy with despair. The chill seeps into your skin, a numbing cold that echoes the hollow ache inside you. Your tears fall, silent and unnoticed, merging with the grime beneath you as exhaustion pulls you deeper into its grip. In the silence, a desperate wish slips through your mind for someone to save you—anyone, even him.

Though Sylus had stolen you away, his presence now haunts you like a ghost. In this unbearable solitude, even the memory of him feels like a twisted solace. You long for his shadow, for those red, gleaming eyes that once pierced through the darkness, and his stark white hair, a glimmer against the void.

At least he gave you warm baths.

The thought slips through your mind, shame twisting in your chest. How could you even think of Sylus now, when poor Xavier was likely out there, rushing to save you, unaware of the torment you’re enduring? Guilt coils around you, tightening with every heartbeat, yet you can’t shake the cruel comfort of that memory. Sylus, for all the wrong he had done, had never left you to freeze, never left you to shiver and break alone.

Your vision blurs as the weight of everything crushes you, and you can almost see him—an apparition of salvation in your mind. His image flickers, vivid and sharp, as your consciousness begins to fray at the edges. The world slips away, piece by piece, and the cold wraps tighter around you.

The cold water finally stops.

In this fading moment, you cling to that impossible hope, that he, with his red eyes and cold hands, might come for you—if only to save you from a fate worse than death.

[joelmillers-whore]

Hard Light | Chapter 1

summary: when a new english professor begins teaching your class for the duration of your semester, you can’t help but develop an innocent crush on him. he’s as off-limits as he can be, but that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. after a drunk night, you accidentally email him something that wasn’t intended to ever be seen by anyone. but that doesn’t matter. it triggers a misunderstanding that manifests into an affair with your professor who is twenty years your senior. nothing good could come of this, right? 

pairings: professor!joel x college student!reader

word count: 2.2K

series or one-shot

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, alternate universe, professor/student relationship, eventual smut, self-esteem issues, workaholic, joel x female!reader, infatuation bordering on obsession (stay delulu friends), some sexual thoughts, masturbation (f), joel being a huge tease lol, (will add more tags as i write)

AN: i am so excited by the response that my joel one-shot got a few days ago and i’ve been itching to get something else out to you all. big, giant forehead kisses for those who want one, i love you all. so, anyway, a mini-series about professor joel is coming at you fast. i’ve written the first few chapters, so expect those in the near future. i’m thinking once a week? this fic is going to be something else and i’m so excited to share it with ya’ll. enjoy, and let me know what you think. find my ao3 here for more content and other fandoms.

You were running late for your shift at the coffee shop on campus, rummaging around your dresser, trying to find the low-cut black top you always wore when you had a shift. You weren’t usually one to feed into the peer pressure of those around you, but push came to shove when you found it nearly impossible to keep yourself afloat as a twenty-something student without the added extra tips from your part-time job.

So what if you had to show a little bit of cleavage? Right? There was no harm. Student loans were a bitch and on top of rent and food costs, you had to get a job at the coffee shop and balance a full course load just to make ends meet. 

A thought popped into your head and you rushed to your laptop, throwing it open as you checked the time; 5:45 AM. If you busted out your lightning-fast typing skills, you would have enough time to catch the next bus and make it to campus with five minutes to spare. If only your crappy second-hand computer would work.

The thing honestly sounded like a chopper engine, getting ready for lift-off. You were surprised you’d gotten this far with it. Not that you weren’t appreciative, your older brother had passed it down and it had relieved a huge weight—  and expense off of your shoulders. 

You tabbed into your school portal, typing in your credentials and selecting your English course. You sighed heavily, as you skimmed over the assignment for this week, something to do with a sonnet that you couldn’t care less about. You loved school but ever since becoming an English major, the spark that you once had for literature sort of just evaporated.

You couldn’t tell if it was because of how busy you were with everything else that you just couldn’t find the time to enjoy it, or the thought that really scared you, you had fallen out of love with it. 

It had been two years of go, go, go and you were, for lack of a better word, burnt out. You’d tried dropping courses last semester, thinking that you just needed a little bit of ease when it came to your course load, but when that didn’t solve the problem and only made things worse for you, you spent the last two semesters trying to catch up and get yourself to a place where you could finally breathe.

But it wasn’t easy. You were only now caught up to where you had been, the illusion that you were someone who could afford to take time off and slow down was a distant memory. 

In bold letters, the words Paid Internship jumped off of the screen. You smiled as you leaned in closer to the screen, making sure you read through everything correctly. This was the break above the surface that you needed, the reprieve that you had been chasing. A paid internship was exactly how you’d be able to make more money and maybe have a little breathing room before you worked yourself into an early grave.

You clicked the mail icon at the top and clicked into a new email, deciding that the worst-case scenario was that you wouldn’t get the internship. All you were doing was inquiring about the application process. Best-case scenario; you’d get it and make some extra pocket money. 

You saw the time, cursing under your breath as you slammed the laptop closed, grabbed your phone out of the charger and ran out of the door. You couldn’t be late, not again. You texted your co-worker Jeremy to open the shop without you and explained to him that you were running a few minutes late, as you barely made it to the bus. You climbed on board, scanned your student pass and found a seat near the back. Your chest was burning from the rush of trying to make it on time, but you could breathe easy now.

You checked your messages mindlessly, scrolling through a bunch of unread ones that you didn’t have the heart to answer. 

Before you knew it, the familiar monuments and buildings of UT Austin came into view, and the subtle change of scenery from downtown to a more densely packed area made your heart skip a beat. It was the same each time you were back on campus. Which, these days, was often. Sliding out of the seat, you made your way to the front, thanking the driver as the bus came to a complete stop. 

The coffee shop was only a short walk from the bus stop but even still you quickened your pace. You didn't want to leave Jeremy alone for long, you already felt bad enough about letting him open by himself. You stifled a yawn as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, leaning your body into the door, slightly cringing at the shrill sound of the bell. 

"There you are", a male voice called, making your head snap up. You wiggled your nose, the familiar timbre of your ex-boyfriend's voice ringing in your ears. "It's about time you got your ass down here". 

You snickered, shrugging your heavy bag off of your shoulder, and dropping it behind the counter, turning around and greeting him with an unamused smirk.

Jeremy and you had gone out for a few months last year, it was your first and, as of right now, the only short-term relationship that you'd had in college. 

Dating your co-worker, even in a relatively small place like the coffee shop on campus, almost always spelled trouble, but Jeremy was not the type to hold something like a failed relationship over your head. He understood that school was a priority for you and making a living for yourself came first, even above something like a relationship. It might not be the healthiest way to live, but it was how it always was. 

Jeremy and you had developed a fast friendship, one that went beyond the romantic relationship that you'd had last year. You parted amicably and now, you had someone you could confide in, someone you could trust. 

"Why don't you say that to my face?", you teased, raising a brow at him over the milk frother you were setting up. 

Jeremy threw his rag down and stalked over to you. "You're snippy this morning", he chided. 

You banged into his shoulder playfully, "Doesn't help that I have to see your ugly mug first thing in the morning". 

You snorted out a laugh and Jeremy looked at you, feigning defensiveness, "Ouch", he paused, returning back to his post near the coffee machine, "Remind me how we ever went out?". 

You scrunched your nose and threw your rag at Jeremy, hitting him square in the face with it, "That was rude". 

He shrugged his shoulder, "You started it".  

You both devolved into a fit of giggles and fell into a comfortable silence, setting up and getting the coffee shop ready for the day. You had a half-day shift to look forward to and then you had class until the late afternoon. The days were long and the nights were longer.

You usually found yourself nose-deep in your textbooks, more often than not, or some classic novel that was required for class, not moving from the couch until your eyes were red and you were seeing double. 

Only then did you retire to sleep, crashing hard until you had to wake up and do it all again the next day. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The coffee shop had been bustling with people since six in the morning, and at one in the afternoon, it hadn't let up, only now you had to go to class. Waving Jeremy goodbye, you sidestepped Tara, the fourth-year who was covering the rest of the afternoon and closing shift. 

You'd crossed the far side of campus, passing by the science building and one of the massive libraries that had acted like a second home to you back when you’d been studying for exams when you were a freshman. You could thank your obnoxious roommates for that one. 

Entering the lecture hall, bodies pressed into you as you weaved through the growing crowd, trying to find a spot in the middle where you could see and hear your English professor. But also blend in with the masses. As if the universe had other plans in mind, and everyone suddenly showed up to the Tuesday lecture all at the same time, you found yourself picking a seat near the front, an exasperated groan leaving you. 

You hated sitting at the front, not because you didn't want to get called on to answer something or because you didn't know the answers, but because you did. You wanted to get through your four years as quickly and unscathed as possible and if people knew, mainly professors, that you knew more about the subject matter than you needed to, you'd surely get called on more often, making you stick out in ways you didn't want. 

It was a terrible curse, going through life with the self-esteem that you did. But it was how you were raised. Blend in. Don't be too loud. Be quiet and only observe. Nerves rapped at your insides when you thought about getting called on when class started. Your heart rate ticked up and you found that your hands were beginning to get clammy, your throat constricting with each breath.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, grounding yourself with the sensation of the material. 

With a jump, you sat up straighter in your seat, being jostled from your thoughts by a loud slam. You snapped your head toward the entrance, eying the person who had startled everyone. It was a man carrying a briefcase.

Your lips tilted up at the edges, amusement tickling you when you thought of anyone using a briefcase nowadays. But here this man was, head down as he made his way to the front of the room, toward the desk. 

You couldn't help keeping your eyes trained on him. On how his slacks tightened around his butt, moulding to the shape and curve of it. You bit your bottom lip out of reflex, your eyes dragging down the length of the mystery man who had crashed your lecture. Maybe he was a TA? Your brows furrowed when you thought about how your professor was nowhere in sight. 

The man with the briefcase placed his case on the desk, turning to face the audience of students who blinked back at him, who now settled down enough to hear him speak. Air caught in your throat when his eyes flicked momentarily to you, and lingered on you for half a second longer than you'd expected. He had massive, warm brown eyes, and soft wrinkles that danced at the edges of his eyes when he smiled, making him seem more boyish than he appeared.

He looked older than a TA would but then again, who were you to judge someone's position in life? You thought that his age did nothing to undermine just how attractive he was, if anything it added to it.  

The man, who may or may not have been moonlighting as your English TA cleared his throat, nodding his head, "My name is Joel, well, Professor Miller to most, but 've always been a little bit more informal than my peers". 

He began to circle the wooden desk nervously, his large hand finding the edge of it and stroking it far more sensually than necessary. You flexed your fingers, gripping the arm of your seat to stabilize yourself. "So, you can call me Joel from here on out... since we'll be seeing more of each other from now on". 

Murmurs began to break out around the lecture hall, and confused and hushed whispers followed. 

Professor Miller— Joel, mumbled something incoherent, and you were unable to hear it from where you sat. He cleared his throat again, "Professor McCarthy has taken a leave of absence, so I'll be filling in for him for the remainder of the semester". 

You crossed your legs, feeling heat rise and a furious blush break out across your face, and shuffled in your seat, a loud creak emitted from it and you stilled, praying that the loud sound had only been heard by you and no one else. But when you lifted your gaze, Joel's eyes were already locked on you, blown and brimming with cautious inquiry. A touch of a smirk graced his lips. 

"And I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you, personally". His eyes were still on you, not ready to release you from their hold. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you couldn't help but stare. You had every reason to look away from him, he was your professor and given the clear age difference, he was someone who was off limits. But when he didn't look away from you either, trapping you with his gaze, your face heated up, suddenly aware that he was purposely staring at you. 

You swallowed thickly, heart hammering as Joel's eyes finally drifted away from you and back to the faces of your classmates. He continued on with addressing the class, and you noticed that he avoided your eyes for the rest of the lecture. 

Only one thought rang through your mind as you tried and failed to focus back on the lecture. This was going to be one long semester. 

[shuamorollss]

Wishing we were more than friends — sim jaeyun x fem!reader

Going home with friends you easily get along with are fun, what isn't fun is to linger feelings for one of them. Already in a course to move on from your silly feelings... you would never expect that very friend you're trying to move on from, starts to develop feelings for you back.

romance, angst, friends2lovers, Italicized parts means flashbacks warnings— Jake kinda gives reader mixed signals, tension but idk if this should still be a warning lol, pls tell me if i should add more! 6.9k wc + reblogs are greatly appreciated!

author's notes— Thank you to my lovelies @haerinz and @luvistqrzzz for proofreading I love u both sm!! I wouldn't hv made this fic better without y'all's help <3 this is kinda inspired by some events that happened to me irl! it was cute to reminisce these memories so I wrote them down here HAHAHAHAHA

perm tags— @jangwonie @jungwonize @luhvlyuna @w3bqrl @ineedaherosavemeenow @leaderwon

After school rolled by fast. The next thing you knew, you were walking home with Seeun, Tsuki, Sunghoon, and Jake.

You all lived in the same neighborhood, hence why you all have stuck together in order to get home safely, due to your hometown being a bit too far away to where you all go to school.

Adding to that, all of you are different people. Different tastes, different years, different cliques in school, yet all of you get along so well when united. Honestly, you absolutely cherish this bond and you never want this friendship with them to fade.

You have a good relationship with all of them, although you have one of a rocky road with Jake.

He was quiet, he never talks as much, and when he does, he only talks to Sunghoon.

You've had a conversation with him from time to time, it was rare due to the fact you had lingering feelings for the man, and that feeling caused you to be vulnerable whenever he's near, which affected your demeanor around him.

Only Seeun knew your admiration for Jake, and she never told a soul, thankfully.

This feeling of yours lasted for a while, until you promised to yourself (and to Seeun) that by the end of that very year, you'll be moving on from your romantic feelings for him.

And that's what exactly happened.

New years rolled around, and so was back to school sessions. Nowadays, you are able to talk to Jake normally unlike before. You were extremely proud of this development, considering you were head over heels for him nonstop for the past 4 months… You saw sides of Jake you wished you saw sooner. He was a funny guy, typically quiet at best, though when he speaks, he'll tell the craziest stories that'll get you hooked.

Even with the improvements on your friendship with Jake and the feeling of butterflies never seems to be present anymore.

Jake eventually found out about your past feelings for him though.

During a silly game of truth or dare.

"Alright! Who's next!" Sunghoon sneered, holding the bottle on the ground as he spun the bottle.

Everyone decided to come by to your house to cook and watch movies, though after the watch, they all decided to stay and have more fun. Thus, right at this moment, you all were playing the very harmless truth or dare game.

Everyone formed a circle, some of them hastily drumming on their thighs as they intensely waited for the bottle to land on someone.

As the bottle slows down, they all teased Sunghoon, who was beside you, and had the bottle almost landing on him. The intensity of the bottle moving at a snail's pace infuriates Sunghoon, cussing their teases off. Until he lets out a triumphant yell as the Bottle stops to you.

"Please thank you! Thank you bottle." Sunghoon teared up, as if he just won an academy award.

"So Y/N," Seeun started, and your heartbeat quickened, already expecting the question that would be asked.

It's Seeun, she knows your darkest secrets, you were so sure she'll step on the opportunity to ask about… Jake.

Seeun paused, her eyes widened to your direction.

"Just to make sure, is it okay if I get personal?" Seeun asked calmly, and you knew that she was definitely, totally, going to ask about what you expect her to ask about.

"Of course, I'll answer anything honestly, I swear." You retorted, giving Seeun a warm smile as everyone in the circle started breathing out deep 'ooh's as if you had just said something vile.

"Did you like anyone in our circle, and if you did, Who was it?" Seeun cheekily smiled

Truthfully, you were indeed confident in answering any questions even if it's personal. Maybe this might also be the time to finally confess your faded feelings to Jake, since you seemed to notice now that you were way too obvious back then, therefore Jake's reaction might not be so surprised by the time you mention his name in your answer, moreso, it would be a neutral reaction as if he expected it in the first place.

You ponder for a moment, looking at your friends in the circle intently, though your eyes stay at Jake for a few seconds, then back to Seeun.

"Yeah, I did like someone," The tone of your voice was assured, which made some of them let out another segment of 'ooh's and 'oh's, and some of them just widening their eyes, including Jake.

You sigh idly, "It was Jake…"

That name alone caused everyone to freak out, all the eyes and attention transferring to the man across you.

You didn't want them to take the wrong Idea, especially Jake, so you stood up in order to plead your case.

"To be clear, I USED to like you okay! I don't like you anymore." You reconfirm, Jake only nodded with a wide smile, and that was enough for you to calm yourself down as everyone else were still freaking out.

Jake shared his thoughts and reaction to your confession, and rest assured to you that he didn't feel the same for you ever, and that was enough for you to hear since this had encouraged your romantic feelings for him to dissolve completely, seeing him more in a platonic light.

After that silly confession of truth you had answered, said again, your friendship with Jake grew. Finally teasing and joking with him without having your heart flipping out by the mere sight of him, and of course, telling him stories.

You were content with that type of bond, and you were glad you were as equally close to all of them now, especially Jake.

That is…

until you two weren't.

Again.

5 months have passed since that truth or dare game, the normal still continued. You all usually go home together after school and when hungry the five of you always go to the mall and eat there instead.

Though during those days, you began developing a crush on a new guy, just a cute barista you knew at a local café. Joking about having slight interest in him to your friends was funny and tolerable, until it became a normal delusion for you to see him in that kind of light.

Those were also the days Jake started being distant to you, as if the old days relieved itself once again.

You had no idea why, but since you were too preoccupied with your new crush, you didn't think much of it.

A month later has passed, you completely had gotten over that barista crush you had, and now you were already studying for your final exams, though your mind was clouded with Jake.

You curse at your conscience. Scolding yourself saying that you're already over him way too long ago, and that you were so sure that his feelings never involved ever liking you back ever, even once.

So why…

Why did that night happen?

"Wow, Y/N," Jake speaks out softly, his eyes sparkling at the sight of your prom attire.

"Is it bad? I didn't have time to do my hair so I just went with this really lazy Elsa hairdo—"

"You're beautiful." He grins from ear to ear, in which you subconsciously mirror his expression. The silence was too loud for the air between the both of you. You were unable to move, as well as your eyes that didn't seem to look elsewhere other than his eyes.

He looked dashing with his tux, and you couldn't get yourself to tell it to him.

You didn't need to, Jake already knew just by the looks of you staring at him, there was no need for him to even ask.

He took a step forward and reluctantly, yet gently offered you his hand.

"May I have this dance… With you?"

You took a few seconds to answer, darting your gazes to his visage and down to his idly shaking hand in front of you.

You took a deep breath, placing your hand on his, and that was enough for Jake to know that you wanted it. You wanted to dance with him.

You walk with him to the dance floor, your eyes never leaving his figure, even when you two have already started to dance.

The way his hands were placed on your waist left you with a burning mark on your cheeks, most likely your whole body. Everything in your body felt like numbing out just by the bare of his hands. Your hands nervously snakes up to the back of his neck, and the stars in your eyes only showed up when the man was in view.

There was only silence between you, and it's not the silence you fear anymore. It was more of a silence you two were fond of. The sole fact that you two have never been this close before, and this dance being the very first time you get to feel Jake up close as this, made you feel warm and comfortable. The same thing goes for Jake.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you, he never wanted to anyway. All he could see is you and only you, and that's what made the atmosphere in your little couple bubble perfectly complacent.

"So…" Jake whispered, breaking the silence between you and him. Feet continues to dance through the rhythm

"So…?" You repeated, raising a brow confusingly.

"About the barista… Are you perhaps… over him?"

You chuckled, at the man's words. It was out of nowhere for him to ask about your past crush. You never considered this question and it didn't seem like he's curious about your feelings either… it's that this was the first ever conversation you're having with him after a few weeks of not talking.

You two still proceed to hangout due to being in the same friend group. Although, conversations were never present between you and Jake.

So him having these as his first words to you left you stunned, however you are not about to show him that. Given that you already stated that you have moved on from him… right?

"I'm very much over him. Why do you ask?" You tilt your head slightly due to curiosity.

"Good." He flashed a grin, staying silent after, realizing that he completely ignored your question.

You didn't want to keep asking and get him mildly annoyed, so you only stayed quiet.

Just how Jake wanted it.

The two of you continued to dance, it has been a few minutes and your feet still followed the rhythm of the song. You didn't seem to want to let go of him just yet, and so did he.

Jake was intoxicated by the smell of your perfume, inhaling then following that sweet aroma coming from your neck, as if he was attracted to it, leading him to lean his head on your shoulder.

Jake's eyes were closed, feeling the moment, as he squeezed your waist tighter, causing your body to feel against his.

You seem to lose control over your body. You felt like plopping down like a blob any minute. Despite that feeling, all it could do was just follow the steps to the rhythm of Jake's feet. Your eyes only stayed widened the whole time, feeling the warmth of his skin touching your bare shoulder was something you couldn't bear. You wanted to break down right at the moment, your heart was palpitating for the reason of your position right now.

"I'm glad." Were the very words Jake had said before his lip placed a peck at the side of your neck, letting out a faint gasp as that contact alone completely freezes your entire body. Jake stands back after, his eyes centered to his hand that was tenderly sliding down your arm and onto your hand.

"Let's go?"

You look at him and nod slowly as he holds your hand. following Jake out of the dance floor, guiding you back to your table and leaving you once he had finally taken you to your seat.

Then he never came back for you for the rest of the event.

You felt breathless, you were in a complete daze while reminiscing that thought. Leaving you frustrated for the reason of losing focus of your current studies.

"How else can I focus if all I could think about is Jake, Jake, and Jake?! " You groaned. Ranting endlessly to yourself, slumping your body on the soft mattress of your bed, completely surrendering your studies and promising yourself to continue tomorrow instead, by the time you get home.

You were babbling to the air for a good minute until your phone started to ring. Immediately picking it up to see Seeun's name calling.

"Hey? What's up?" You started.

"Sorry to keep this phone call short Y/N, but I'll text you more of the deets after. I'm not gonna go to school tomorrow because of an emergency and I was wondering if I could give you all my homework requirements tomorrow before you go to school? Just give it to Sheon please… Sorry for the bother I really am." Seeun stated, sounding petrified.

You quickly obliged to her simple favor thinking her situation must be grave since Seeun wasn't the one to skip classes whenever she pleases, so after the phone call, Seeun texted you once more of the details of her situation and why she couldn't come to school the next day.

School period ended early due to the heavy pour of the weather. Although even with the beneficial period cutoff, you didn't bring an umbrella. Only hoping that one of your friends has a spare, or could share with you.

You waited under a tree beside the gate of your school. now you're only waiting for the rest of the gang to come by… Though only one came.

"Let's go." Jake opened the umbrella, tilting his head in a direction where you all normally headed.

"Huh? Aren't we gonna wait for the rest?" You asked confusingly, looking back to the school in case you'd spot either Tsuki or Hoon.

"Sunghoon went home early due to an emergency, Tsuki just didn't go to school, and Seeun texted me saying to pass her excuse letter to her adviser… They didn't tell you?" Jake's perplexed expression intimidated you, you only knew Seeun's case although not the rest, so you only shrugged as a response and not by words.

So you'll be walking home with Jake… only. Just the two of you, in one umbrella.

Jake notices you being empty umbrella-handed, and so he walks closer to have you jumping in it with him.

"Come on, let's just share." He offered, in which you immediately accepted. You know he was Jake, though you were desperate to at least be kilometers far from school

A few walks far away from school, the two of you haven't said a word to each other. The awkward air you felt suffocated the most is present, and your muddled thoughts and memories, especially the time with him at the prom, didn't help you regain the confidence to break such an air… Though you had the gut feeling you had to at least talk to him, now that you're this close once again, reminding you of the distance you two had during the prom.

You winced at that memory, causing the other to look at you discerned.

"Is everything okay?" He asked timidly, stopping his tracks as his eyes focused on your disgusted expression.

"I-I'm fine, I just… remembered something super embarrassing." You reasoned, not wanting to tell him what really overcame in your head.

Jake slid it off and continued walking, it was another long series of silence between you and Jake once again.

You swore 2 months ago you were just nudging his arms because of his jokes… Why would you both feel this awkward and have your friendship with him regress after it was doing so well.

The next thing you knew, you two were already in your neighborhood, a few more walks until Jake reached his home, and then yours.

You thought to yourself that Jake would go home then pass you the umbrella instead, however to your surprise, Jake walked past the gate of his home which left you with questions.

"Are you walking me home?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh, nothing. I just thought you were gonna stop by your house and give me your umbrella instead, since my home is still a few more walks from yours."

"It's raining hard, you shouldn't be out here on your own—"

As he was about to end his sentence, a loud thunder struck and white lightning flashed the sky, causing you to shriek, holding the umbrella to cover you well from the pouring rain.

"Oh my god.." You muttered, Tightening the grip of the umbrella handle that Jake was also holding.

"Oh god— I'm sorry, let's get home fast please." You yell out in fear, your heart rapidly beating as if another flash of lightning and shriek of thunder was about to come by in a few seconds. Your fearful grip on the umbrella still stayed, as you started walking at a fast pace that Jake immediately catched up on, which goes on until you both have reached your home.

You both stood at the front of your porch for a short minute, you had no idea why Jake stopped his tracks, you only stopped for the reason that he stopped first.

and so without having much patience, you recklessly hopped on to the porch, partially getting yourself wet, even if your hand was still at the contact of Jake's umbrella handle. Before you moved completely to avoid getting more drenched from the rain, you felt another hand gently placed on top of yours.

Yet again— another series of silence as you two stare at each other's eyes. Jake slowly makes his steps onto your porch. The contact on the umbrella didn't seem to break, as the two of you transferred your gazes to where your hands were placed. You didn't want to let go, yet deep down, you were scared, your head was spinning to nowhere as his hand never let go of yours.

You began to conflict with yourself, your eyes slowly transitioning to a horrified state. A feeling you don't understand— a feeling so puzzling you don't even dare to question, having this whole ordeal with Jake is as just as confusing as your current, incoming, outburst.

"What… is wrong with you?" You let out, eyes welled up, and Jake only stared at your rapid change in demeanor. Your hand intensely retracts the hold on the umbrella as Jake's fingers automatically close the umbrella.

"Y-You're completely all over the place?" Your breath hitched, then facing behind from his view, your hands shrieked due to the heat building up your anger, than more so being it from the cold temperature of the rainy weather.

"I don't know… back then you were so fun to be with but now you have become so distant. I have no idea on how— or what happened that made you like that. I don't know if I did anything wrong or that made you feel uncomfortable in a way because If I did something— anything… I'm so sorry." You ranted, catching your breath as your eyes blazed onto the other, who remained quiet, drooping his eyes down to the wooden floor, unable to respond back.

"But… That one night, that one prom night…" You paused. Jake's head rises as he hears those very words from your tongue.

"You know damn well what I was talking about, do you?"

Jake's unresponsiveness didn't help calming down your systems. Instead, it made you more infuriated.

After a few seconds of silence, waiting for something, at least anything from the man, there was none.

You inhale the cold breeze from the continuous pouring rain just in front of you, as your hands subconsciously brush your hair messily in an infuriating manner. "I don't know what your intentions were that night. The way you asked me about that barista, Yeonjun? If I got over him… and that kiss— the way you kissed my neck? How?!— do you normally just do that to other girls…? 'Cause Jake I've been hanging out with you for the entirety of this school year and I've never seen you do anything like that,"

"Or maybe that truth or dare game? A lot changed after that game, after I confessed my old feelings for you. What did I do?— What happened to you? I assured you they were old feelings but a few months after that you started giving me signals, probably old me would've fan out to be honest... Were you just trying to relive my old feelings for you? Is it because you wanted my feelings to just stay attracted to you? Is that it? Because you are absolutely sick for that Sim Jaeyun… You don't know how vulnerable and conflicted I became when you started to change. I can't even grasp the situation or If I'm saying anything right because— I… don't understand you. One day you'll be quiet and wouldn't even say a single word to me, and then go I'm glad you moved on from mister barista and then leave me by the side and never come back? What was that? " Your voice echoed through the open porch. your words could easily be overlayed by the hard rain in the background yet they were loud enough for the man to comprehend. Every emphasis of the words and events you mention brings Jake back to his mind and recalls those memories that ever happened.

"I'm sorry." Finally a word from him, yet not something you had ever hoped for him to say.

Your comprehension of his response was him apologizing for doing any of the things you have just said. Cracking a part of your heart at the indirect confirmation of the man's intentions.

"I'm sorry..? You're sorry? Sorry?! "

"You're so fucking… fuck— selfish for that! You're nothing but a selfish freak who doesn't— who never thinks about others feelings. Only doing it for their own satisfaction and—"

"You don't know how vulnerable I am at the mere sight of you, Y/N."

You stopped mid sentence, stunned as your eyes darted to his standing figure. You take a few steps towards him, as if you wanted to hear his statement more clearly by the loud thundering climate.

It was at this moment that you realized that the following small thunders and big flashes of lightning didn't seem to startle you. All your focus only went to exposing your wholehearted antipathy to the other.

Jake's breath hitched the same as yours earlier on, it's like it was his turn to let out his jumbled feelings to you.

"There were no spare days where you didn't flood my thoughts. Day and night, Y/N, you were always present and I had no plan on stopping that infestation."

His dark eyes pierced through you, feeling the rush of the heavy wind kiss through your figure.

Despite his confession, you did not give the same treatment to how he was when you were on your outburst.

"Then why? Why would you do all that?"

"Because you told me, well— told us before that you stopped liking me by the time new years rolled around."

"You remembered the new years part?"

"Very much, yes,"

"Look, I didn't know my feelings would come to this. You were a fun friend, you were a great company, although I couldn't bear myself to be so near you after a few months."

"Why?" You whispered, eye furrowed at the confessions of the other.

"I always think that I might do something I'll regret." He takes a few steps backwards, the air between the both of you feeling as soothing as it was just suffocating and intense before.

"Like what?" You take a few steps forward, the same amount of steps Jake took.

"Y/N… stop" He took a few more steps backwards, rebuffing your ways on pushing him to answer your question.

You stepped closer and closer, and now too close to Jake, repeating the same question in an attempt to pressure him into bursting out his answer due to the stress and the annoyances of your nagging.

It was only a matter of time before Jake gave in, biting his lips in frustration as he felt his head heat up so close to combustion.

"goddammit Y/N." He aggressively grabs the collar of your blouse and proceeds to pull you 3 inches close to his face.

You swore you felt your heartbeat stop for a brief moment at the sudden contact of his nose onto yours. The way you felt his breath fanning over your lips, sensing the tense air he had been inhaling since he had stepped a foot on your porch.

It was only a matter of movement to have your lips connect yet Jake resisted the urge, releasing his grip from your blouse, causing you to limp backwards.

Your gaze at Jake with a baffled look, processing the thing that just happened.

It was hard to convince yourself that whatever that was, actually happened.

It was real, you felt it, everything.

There was silence. It felt like a wall being compressed and will mush the both of you into some sort of unrelenting concoction. Jake was too stunned about his own actions, turning around to storm off at the scene and probably forget that this ever happened.

As he took a few steps off the porch, you realized that you had enough with the distance, you felt so far away with Jake always running away all the time. Your mind was everywhere, especially the feeling of his face as similar as that again. You were desperate to know how he really felt for you, and you couldn't just let him walk away and watch again as his figure dissipated into the heavy pouring rain.

"Jake." You utter as you grip on his arm, spinning him around to face you as your hands snake up onto the back of his neck, tip toeing to reach the height of his lips, yet it was no reach. Even with what you had just done, you weren't about to kiss him anyway, you wanted to see how he'd react with your sudden motion.

It was only a matter of seconds until Jake attacked his lips on yours. It was an aggressive contact at first, sensing the desperation of his lips yet contrasting from his hands that carefully held your face as if it was glass.

You'd be lying if you said weren't desperate for it either, you had craved this type of contact ever since prom, it was only regretful to ever admit it personally. But now that you're fulfilling your most secret desire, most likely that this would be the time to embrace it.

God, you want him so bad.

Too bad.

The both of you lost the sense of surroundings, as you carelessly pushed him to the ramp of your porch as your lips were still intact. Leaving a quick gasp from Jake's end due to the startling feeling from the cold contact of his body.

The sudden hum coming from Jake's voice seized you to let go yet Jake didn't want your lips to part from his. Even with the force of his hands holding your face to him for much longer, he eventually gave in. Hands loosen the hold on your cheeks. You tensely took a few steps backwards as you started panting, your chest pumping in and out with Jake in unison, catching both of your remaining breaths and remaining comprehension from that predicament.

Your eyes pierced through Jake's gaze, your breathing is shaky, same goes for your hands… your body's frozen in place, all of these yet the reason does not ivolve the the cold temperature of the weather.

None of you exchanged any words. Instead, it was quiet, yet again, the area only filled with the small and loud droplets of the rain… It's merely raining anymore, as you only focus on him, hear him, and feel him.

Nothing makes sense at this moment. Honestly, you wanted to reach your senses to sense yet things just felt too out of the ordinary.

"Y/N, I'm sorry." Jake came through. Rushing for your comfort. Although you ran back with the presence of terror, opening your front door and slamming the door in front of him at the nick of time. You were speechless per say, you couldn't describe words, you couldn't speak out your thoughts. The sudden walk out suddenly sent Jake into a shock of panic.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, please— I didn't mean to—"

He proceeds to passively knock on your door repeatedly. He whispered a curse to himself as to resent the contact you two had shared. Biting his lips in pure regret at the mere memory a few minutes ago.

"Y/N please." The knocks still kept coming through.

You only stood against the door, paralleled from the man on the other side. You had no idea what course of action you were going to take. You were furious about the distance he kept himself from earlier, and then suddenly it was all gone because of a kiss. Yet here you are, setting up walls to him.

You didn't want any more walls or distance to grow, you wanted him to be forward to you and he'll do so.

Now, it's your turn to talk, before regret suffices.

"Shit. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… I really am—"

"Jake," Your voice muffled against the door, which Jake had heard, immediately backing away at the click of the doorknob.

You twist the knob and pull it to see a distressed Jake in front of you. His doleful eyes locked onto your figure, waiting for you to tell him something, anything.

"I'm not… mad at you." you muttered.

Jake stood quiet as his look at you stayed bewildered.

"I was just startled… I didn't know what to do— or what to say." You plead, your eyes are red as it remains glistened.

No words came out from Jake, possibly dumbfounded by your response.

"When did you realize you liked me, by the way?" You asked out of nowhere, attempting to tone down the tension in your system from earlier.

"When you started talking about that barista more… and it's 'like'… without the D." He admitted it extremely easily, causing you to subconsciously let out a short chuckle unexpectedly at his last words.

"What?" Jake's brows furrowed at your uncalled reaction, his smile perking up at the sight of you smiling at him.

"You just said that so straightforwardly, it… it kinda caught me off guard."

"There's no point in getting nervous around you again, kissing you was my last straw."

"Oh, so you finally loosened your walls? "

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

The both of you shared the same laughter. Eyes showing genuine feelings of forgiveness. There was no need of words to let the both of you be reminded of anything, yet it still felt guilting.

"What if you become distant to me again?" you voiced your concern, the faint smile you had dropping almost at an instant at the thought of that question.

"I won't," The man only took deep breaths as he slowly took a few steps forward, stepping foot in your home. The tense air that compressed between yours and Jake made you shiver, it felt ticklish, although you concealed the feeling as you didn't want this distance to part with you.

"I like you, and even more than that,"

From his aggressive grip behind your head earlier to a much more gentle approach as he slowly wraps you in for a hug, chin laying softly on top of your head, and his hand transferring to the back of your hair, patting gently purely because he wanted you against him, he wanted to be the one to calm you down from his mistakes. His eyes in pure concern as if he had done so much unspeakable pain.

You, on the other hand, were extremely glad at his sudden action, feeling too content within his embrace. It was at this moment that you knew that you indeed love him too dearly, and you only hope for him to reciprocate these feelings similar to yours.

"And I'm grateful for myself to even say this so boldly to you, even if it meant breaking your heart."

It only startled you once more when the man had continued his words after a minute of pausing. The words coming out from lips breezed against your ear, making you hear the mumbled words almost clearly.

You sneered at his response, causing the man to change his expressions to mild uncertainty.

"Silly, you didn't break my heart… Well, kinda."

"I'll make up for it?" He offered, the warmth of his breath getting through to your scalp caused your body to briefly shiver at the feeling.

"How so?" You asked cheekily, transferring your gaze up to the toned down storm.

"Tomorrow, I'll pick you up?"

You stayed silent at his invitation, the other not having a quick peek of your reaction which led him to assume the worst due to your unresponsiveness.

"Or not… I'm sorry. Am I going too fast?"

With this realization, he parts his hand from your hair as he pushes himself from you unhurriedly.

Alternatively you quickly pull both of his arms back to your clingy embrace.

"No you're not. I just like being in this position with you right now," You muffled against his jacket, now having your warm breath fanning over the fabric of his cloth sent heat up to his cheeks, bringing his hand back to where it was before.

"Let's talk about dates another time… Let's focus about what everything is right now."

the clasp between one another was definitely at its high. It's something you don't seem to want to let go of, as if you're addicted. Now that you felt him like this more closer than before, you wanted this to go on eternally. Now that he's with you probably having the same exact feelings, you're not scared anymore. Not the distance, not the words, not his presence.

All of those became a comfort, and honestly, this was too good to be true.

As you drown yourself in your own dreamy thoughts, Jake's head transfers to the side of your head, tracing you out of a segment of your endless realizations, shivering you in the process due to the ticklish interval.

"How about you Y/N? Do you like me?" He questions.

You remembered daydreaming this moment every night during so many months back, that era of you hoping that someday it'll happen.

and every night you always reply and say the same words in the same scenario.

"I do, and more than just… like. I am insanely in love with you."

With just that, it had sent a critical hit on Jake's beating heart. He couldn't believe that you were still up to loving him again after all that he made her feel. Yet here you are, giving him a chance.

It still left a pinch of guilt within Jake for the reason of what he did to you that initiated your outburst of emotions from earlier. He was stunned to see that side of you and he wanted to never witness that side of you, ever.

It was at this moment that Jake would promise himself that he'd take care of you for the rest of his life, and that he wouldn't spare a single mistake of his to have you return to the feeling of heavy sorrow because of him again.

EXTRA:

"Where's Jake and Y/N?" Seeun asked worriedly. Standing beside the gate alongside Tsuki and Sunghoon as they watch crowds of students walk past the gate. Only waiting for their remaining friends to have their respective classes to be dismissed, yet it has been almost 30 minutes since they've been waiting and anxiety crawls up on their systems.

"I don't know? What if they didn't go to school today?" Tsuki responds, darting her eyes left to right inspecting as if both of you might be a part in the sea of students.

"If they didn't go to school, they would have told us." Seeun grumbled, tip-toeing as if she could spot you or the man anytime soon.

"Oh— Oh! Hey!—" Sunghoon halted one of the students who they knew to be your classmate. "Uhm, question, did Y/N go to school today?" Sunghoon asked, the student paused for a moment since the sudden question had startled him. "Y-Yeah, but she went out really early… Something about waiting for her boyfriend or something. Only from what I assume though."

"Boyfriend? " All said in unison as the two girls' darted their focus to your classmate. All three gave a concerned look as their brows remained furrowed at the abrupt revelation.

Sunghoon uttered a thanks as the student continued his path, still leaving all three of them in a state of shock.

"Y/N? and… boyfriend? " Tsuki recalled, still too stunned about what your classmate had said.

"What about Jake?— Oh hey! " Seeun's demeanor switches in an instant by the sight of Jake's classmate who he always walks out the school with before meeting up with them.

Seeun asked the same thing as Sunghoon, although now related to Jake.

"Oh, he's with that Y/N girl I'm sure, since I remember seeing the same girl who's waiting there to the one who hangs a lot with you guys here."

"Well… what are they doing in— Where?! " Seeun was at the brink of freaking out yet remained her decorum.

"She was waiting outside our classroom, probs waiting for Jake… That's all I know."

Seeun now uttered a thanks to him as Jake's classmate walked away.

There was a confusing silence between the air of the three friends for a few minutes. All dumbfounded by the fact about... anything, related to you and Jake.

The stray thinking lasted until Seeun spotted you and Jake talking and laughing at each other at a distance.

All of them locking their gazes to both of you with a menacing look. Which the you and Jake had caught on immediately, only locking their gazes back until the both of you stopped in front of them.

"Let me guess…" Sunghoon started, placing his fingers on his chin as if he was speculating (the obvious).

"Girlfriend, boyfriend. Boyfriend, girlfriend." He stated as he pointed to one of you respectively.

Your eyes grew wide, startled by their assumption. "Oh What?— No no no no! We're not..." You look at the man with red tinted cheeks beside you, signalling him to not feel hurt in your next words.

However, before you could continue, Jake's hand instantly pulled your shoulder closer beside him, letting out an nervous smile from you while Jake's smile stood calm and collected.

"We're not a thing!"

"Yes we are."

"Jake!"

"We'll end up being a thing anyway so might as well think in advance."

Tsuki, Seeun, and Sunghoon all widened their eyes as they held in their screams of surprise.

"Y/N!" Seeun welled up as she shakes your arm aggressively, creating fake crying noises.

"We were just gone yesterday and suddenly you two are in a relationship the next day?!" Tsuki exclaimed.

You and Jake only let out shy giggles at their reactions. It was funny to see them at this state yet you had to tell them what really happened sooner or later.

All of you proceeded to walk out of school as the three bickered about your relationship with each other. Seeun mostly, seeing the side of you which was so down for the so-called 'boyfriend'. All of their voices mixed badly inside your little friend group bubble as they all ask the same thing yet ask them so messily.

As this was happening, Jake's hand softly landed on yours as a secret invitation to hold his, which you immediately complied. Squeezing his hand in an attempt to tease him, letting out a small "ow." from the other.

"You better tell us everything, okay?" Seeun rambled. everyone simultaneously agreeing to Seeun's words and nagging you to tell them the whole story.

Well, they'll be in for a longggg walk.

© seungiepup. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[sonicblueartist]

Rayman x Reader

A/N: He is the Rayman from the games, there is no other choice for this story, sorry~ But you can think either romantic or platonic for this :)

I'll try to make this as fluffy as I can. My angst loving soul don't know how to write fluff lmao

Writing Rayman from the games is something else for me. In really good ways

Nothing written in this story has anything to do with games plot. I wrote it all myself ;)

Summery: We both try to escape from some weird creatures

Warnings: Intense cursing

Words: 2.6k

Masterlist

Taglist: @blorbostation @eateableworm @livelaughluvvfaithyy @darkchanx @astoraa @shiroisotto64

Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?

Dear anons; I would really appreciate it if you could choose an emoji while sending your asks and requests (and stick with it) so I can tell you apart. Thank you~

Couldn't choose between all these moments for the gif so I added every one of them (probably gonna regret that later lol Because I no longer have any good gifs for him any more but whatever.)

Seeing Rayman angry is just a cherry on top.

I am going to post this but I feel bad for not writing fluff/comfort/pure lovely moments like I planned to, so I might write down something cute for him soon~

I really wanted to write something cartoon-ish too because, you know, Rayman is very much 'cartoon-ish', he is made for that. I guess at least I made that come true instead of a full fluff.

Also, I may have relieved my exam stress on him 👀💦

On The Run

What's happening? You don't have a clue. You only knew that Rayman ran past you in the forest ten minutes ago without even stopping to say hi, he looked really panicked too you have to say. And quickly after Rayman's hand came back, finding your own and quickly sweep away your taken aback body before the spears met with you. And, well, you were suddenly included in a chase you don't have a clue about.

You two run for your dear little lives, in the meantime dodging a few spears thrown to pierce through your guts and quickly jump behind a few bushes out of breath. Hearing angry yells and screams increasing you both held your breath in. A few seconds later all of them ran past you. You heaved a relieved sigh.

What with this all about? Well, obviously you don't have all the details but you knew someone who did. You can finally question him about all this. With a scowl you turn to face him, finding him invading your personal space, not that you minded (it was funny, really), sticking to your side desperately, maybe that's not the right word to use but he was definitely, on purpose or not, sticking to you like a little kid would do to their mother, still eyeing for any intruders. If you weren’t so angry you would find that cute. Honestly at that moment, you didn't give a fuckthought. Your blood boils in anger. You weren't mad at him. You were tired and worried. Okay, maybe your tired body turning your worry into anger a bit. But you are angry at his reckless side. How wouldn't you be? You know he did something again that bothered these people. (It could also be the fact that because all people on this planet are either crazy or whatever) But it's not like he is doing that on purpose. But he still needs to be more mindful of his surroundings.

You whisper shouted, nudging his chest with your finger, causing him to look at you, "What the fuck did you do this time Rayman?!" You panthed out with a glare. Asking nicely? What is that?

He stared at you surprised (maybe a bit hurt) and huffed out, "What do you mean this time? I didn't do anything!" He scoffed, a hand over his heart with an offended tone.

You rolled your eyes at that and glanced outside, you quickly duck seeing more of them walking past the bush. You cursed under your breath. Thankfully they were dumber than they look.

You glanced at him, "Why do they want you?" You whispered with a hiss.

He smirked, "Who knows! I mean I can't blame them. Everyone wants me!" Here he goes again, you were being dead serious and he starts joking.

You stared at him with the most dumbfounded and sour expression you ever weared, "They fucking want your guts out, you idiot! Don't start with me with those cheesy lines!”

He mushed his lips and stared at you. You stared back with a raised brow. He couldn't hold his stare much longer with how you're glaring at him and finally grumbled out defeated, hiding away from your intense stare, "Okay, okay fine! It might be... a little bit my fault."

You scoffed, "A little bit?”

"I admitted didn't I?”

"What did you do?"

He avoided you with a comedic sweat, "Ahhh…”

"Rayman. What Did You Do?”

"You're going to be so mad." He chuckled nervously.

You can't be more mad then you already are. But again, your expression softened with how actually nervous he looked about all this. You knew he felt guilty. You know him after all. You let out a long silent sigh and reached out to hold his hands, pressing your thumbs over the back of them, kind of stroking to ease him up, "Rayman, I promise I will not yell at you anymore then I already did. Just tell me. I need to know." You sounded more like reassuring yourself then him. Did you forgive him? No? You don't know what you are even forgiving him about! But you did actually soften up on him.

He didn't believe that but confessed anyway, "I uh... might... accidentally woke up a whole civilization??" He sounded unsure of himself.

You stared at him, and he stared back.

"What... the fuck?" What does that suppose to mean?

He laughed, "I said the same thing until you find me and drag me away, my divine savior~" Wasn't that the opposite?

You sighed and grabbed the bridge of your nose, "I feel like I am gonna regret asking this but... how?"

He tapped his chin, "Well, I also have no idea! I was walking around the forest a few hours ago then I found myself in the underground. I guess the ground may have shifted or the place I was standing in collapsed. Either way I find myself exploring the cave to find a way out and, well, that's how I find the burrow. And here we are!" He continued despite seeing your progressive disturbed expression, "They were really aggressive and grumpy, I think they want some kind of revenge for disturbing their sleeping ritual or something—”

You reach your hand and shut him up with a tired face, "Okay, I think that's enough information. We are gonna think of something now. We need to avoid them and find a way back to send them whatever place they come crawling from. Okay..." You muttered to yourself.

Rayman grabbed your hand off of his mouth and muttered your name.

"Not now, I am thinking.”

"But-”

You sushed him, "No, nope, sush, no talking! I don't wanna listen! Just lemme think!”

He stared at you unamused but his expression quickly changed to something nervous. He called out your name again this time a bit louder.

You groaned, rubbing your face, "Ray, What part of "be quiet" don't you understand? What do you want?! You want them to find us?!”

He choked out, "Ahh, about that…”

"Look I only wanted a peaceful day today, getting chased by a crazy herd, not what I had in mind- annnd.... They find us, didn't they?" You sighed.

He nodded, "Pretty much." Soon enough all kinds of sharp-tipped spares were extended towards from all sides. You both quickly raised your hands in the air, surrounded by them. You cursed under your breath not amused at all.

"Well, this could have gone much worse.”

You soon find yourselves in a cell, soon to be turned into a chewing toy. Surrounded by many of them readying the meal you will be in today.

"You have to jinx it, didn't you?" Before he can open his mouth again you threatened showing a rock, "If you open your mouth one more time I swear I’ll force this inside your mouth—”

He raised his hand, "Jeez, alright, alright. I am sorry! What got into you today?” He knew you wouldn't actually do that. You love him too much for that. (But, did you have it in you? Yes. Would you actually do that if he was someone else? Most definitely. Is he afraid of this fact? Absolutely. He definitely know to not underestimate you.) He couldn't help but admit that it sounded so absurd coming from you in that moment though. It also shouldn't amused him but it did.

You forced a short laugh, "What got into me? Oh, lemme think." You sarcastically mumbled, mocking him and tapped your chin as if you were thinking.

He frowned, not letting you start sorting it all out, "Okay, okay. I get it. I said sorry, didn't I? It was lame of me to even ask that. Sorry for trying to be nice.” He stuck his tongue out playfully.

"A sorry not gonna save us from becoming a MEAL OF THE DAY!!" You groaned.

He hummed and shrugged, "I wouldn't worry much. After all this isn't the first time I was imprisoned.”

You stared at him, "We saved your ass when you were imprisoned."

"Saved me?" He smirked, "If I remember correctly, which I know I am, you and Globox were also imprisoned for the sake of saving me, I am touched really. Though it was a weak plan, assuming being held captive was part of your idea~"

You grumbled grimacing, "It was Globox's idea. I didn't have anything better to do so I just followed along. BUT we did save your ass didn't we? That's what counts! Besides, I'm not seeing you having any bright ideas!!”

"Who said I didn't have any?" He grinned, noticing your pause.

You give him a face, "If you had a plan this whole time... WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST SAY SO?!" God, so that’s why he has been acting so relaxed! He has always been some kind of a laid back person, but this would be too much (Not counting the fact that he knows when to strike). In fact, he should have been happy that he had a reasonable explanation for this situation because you were about to slap him hard for how careless he had been so far and how careless he had been all day.

"Calm down! It was a work in progress and now I am not gonna jinx it again. So, are you in or not?”

You give him a side glare at him and turn away.

He sighed, "Look, I am sorry. Sincerely, coming from the deepest of my heart. I really didn't mean to cause all this. It's also my fault that you are involved in my mess too. So, at least let me help to fix it, okay? You can kick my ass after this." He kind of dragged you away, yes, but it was to save you and you were thankful that he did (how wouldn't you?) but that doesn't mean he is also the one to start all these.

You heaved a sigh, and shook your head with a soft smile, "Lead the way, eggplant." You grinned seeing his little eye roll. You definitely gonna remember the last thing he said.

“I will save us. That’s a promise.” He sounded even more genuine.

“Yeah, yeah. You better be. I don’t wanna end up as a snack before bedtime. So, care to tell me the plan?”

He grinned mischievously, a determined glint in his eyes, "You will find out soon enough. You know me. It's not that complicated to figure out. Even better when you know they are not too smart to figure out."

You raised a brow not fond of him still depriving you of an explanation. But you guessed it was better to leave like that seeing those creatures still roaming all around.

Soon after your 'nice' conversations you both find yourselves tied up together in a cauldron full of water with a fire burning underneath. The creatures throwing chopped vegetables on you.

Your unamused expression hardened, "How much longer are we going to wait?" You grumbled. "They are slowly cooking us alive!"

"Yeah, I won't be a good dinner for them. You have more areas where they can chew off." You swear he was laughing behind you. You growled and hit him in the head with your own, you had no other option. Your arms were tied. "Don't start again! I'm serious! I'm starting to get worried. My feet are burning!”

He hissed in pain, "Sorry, force of habit... or maybe coping... either way..." he took a sharp breath, "My plan gonna work."

"You are not even doing anything! What kind of plan is that? Just admit already that you have no idea how we can get out of this station!”

"No, because I do. I'm just waiting for the right moment.”

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, yeah. And I believe that. I am sure you do-- Wait a fucking moment." You hissed. You can't belive you forget about his ability, "You fucking have control all over your body! Whatever the floaty, gravity bending thing you do! You can easily get out of this rope!! They only tied our bodies, not hands or feet! Fuck! Why didn't you do something about this earlier Rayman?! Are you trying to piss me off on purpose! I swear---" Your words are stuffed inside your mouth, literally. One of the creatures got annoyed (or tired) of your talking and harshly pushed an apple in your mouth. Your eye twitched in annoyance. Rayman glanced back with a stuffed laugh. Okay, maybe you did deserve this but you are not gonna admit that. You gave him a death glare and he quickly looked away. But you still heard his stuffed snickers and feel his shaking body.

He nudges your side with his hand and your eyes quickly widen, "For your concern, ya think I would forget about something my own body capable of since forever? I already handled that. And for your nice question, like I said, I am one step ahead of you, darling~" he quickly hid the key before one of the creatures could see and cautiously examined the surroundings carefully.

He whispered, "When I came back here there was no way out of this place but the hole I fell down from. Thankfully, I was able to crawl back out but there is no sight of that hole anymore so I am gonna assume they blocked it. So there is only one option left for us to choose. What we're gonna do is, use the real door. The one I couldn't pass before. And for that we needed the key. Though one of us is gonna need to distract them while the other opens the door. Then we both escape and lock them in here, like it should have been." You're gonna kick his ass for not telling you about this sooner and made you believe that he actually didn't have any clue. Though you didn't know which one is good, his acting for the sake of the creatures (you have no idea what they are) not notice? Or him playing with you just for fun. Actually... you were happy that he did have a plan. Because it would be the worst tragicomic death in the hero's history.

His eyes widened when he felt your weight on his back... more than normally. You two were back to back forcefully pressed together yeah but... you were leaning on him? In relief? Comfort? He didn't know. But he couldn't help his lips turn into a soft smile.

"Well, I might ruin our moment here..." he trailed off. "I love hot baths as much as the next person but we should get moving. I don't think I like vegetable soup especially if we are in it.”

He felt the vibration of your laugh on his back causing his smile to widen. He glanced back at you with a smirk, his hand helping you to remove the red apple as he whinked.

"You ready to kick some little ass?" Those green creatures were nearly half of your height. You still can't believe how you two get caught that easily. You two were unprepared. But this time will be different.

You smirked, "It's always so nice to fight alongside you.”

"That's good to hear because I really needed that." He hummed as he slowly unwrapped the tight rope from around both of you, "You know, thinking our situation it's both humiliating and funny as hell. It could be our little secret. How's that sound?”

"Like heaven, and also the thought of what I can do after I get back home. Sleep all day long. Sounds good, huh?" You snickered knowing that's exactly what he will do too.

"After kicking my ass?”

You held back a laugh, "You want to be beaten up that much?” You pressed your back on his on purpose this time with a smirk.

He glanced back at you, "I think all the fighting we are gonna do here will be enough.”

"Agreed." You both jumped out of the cauldron within a fighting stance, raising up your fists.

You bawled, "Who wanna have some of these?" You showed your fists.

The creatures stood staring. Soon all screamed a war cry running towards you. You two smirked and launched.

[aliorsboxostuff]

Idk if u will do this request but! Miguel’s time is like futuristic set right? ( trans people would just transition and be more accepted in this timeline sí right? 😭) so Miguel He went to college at a high prestige science university and so did reader for he is too an smart as him with his own creations in robotics and chemistry. Miguel had tried to get alone room accommodation but failed and got partnered up with transftm!reader and they became roommates. Reader fell in love with Miguel but he didn’t notice cuz he was too focused on his work and whatever. Years go by aka spider verse but suddenly miguel needs help from his old college roommate. Angst fluff maybe…smut??? Sorry English isn’t my first language 😭😭

Hey anon! I appreciate the idea and i love how much you fleshed it out! Dont worry, i completely understand your vision, and i get it english is hard for me too lol i hope i got your ideas right tho, sorry this turned into angst more than what i was aiming lmao enjoy all!

History

Tags: Miguel O’hara x FTM!Reader, Villain!Reader, Lyla, Past Relationship, Angst, Falling Out, Fighting, Arguments, Dirty Thoughts, Meet-Cute, Pining, Secret Crushes, Miguel is as dense as ever, poor reader on this one HAHA

They had a history. Of living together, spending time with each other, but despite all of that it all went downhill. Who knew your ex-roommate turns out to be Doc Oct

(Takes place before Post Credit Scene in into the Spiderverse)

—

"Miguel, I hate to tell you this but we can't-"

"There has to be another way, you designed this Lyla!"

"Hey! Don't blame the AI, blame the maker! I only followed what you said!" 

Lyla huffs and glitches to another part of the console. Miguel is currently hunched over a table in the corner of his lair, the only light illuminating his project is the light rod over his workbench and the monitors around him. 

The girl busies herself with schematics, working out equations and trying to find where they went wrong.

Miguel's latest work on the multiverse brace is to eliminate the glitches that it makes whenever someone uses it. It could potentially lead to wounds from the cells traveling to a different world, and even the healing factor won't fix it. Worst-case scenario, it would lead to a fatal wound, possibly death, and Miguel can't risk that if he's gonna start interdimensional travel. 

His eyes scan over the chip connected to his computer, adding and removing codings that might've gone wrong. He's wearing the headband Lyla gifted him, or mailed to him when it was his birthday months ago, to be exact. 

"I swear the shell is all good, Miguel. It should all contain the molecules needed for the portal bracelet,"

"Can you please stop calling it that?" 

"What? 'Portal'?"

"Yes. It's not a portal, we already have that," Miguel rolls his eyes, gluing them back to the screen.

"Then what are we calling it?" Lyla pouts, adjusting her heart glasses.

"Transdimensional Pathfinding Wristlet."

Lyla pauses her work, and turns to Miguel, her brows raised, the blinks once, twice. "Wh- seriously?" 

"Y'know what, I'm not even gonna try," He shakes her head before glitching to another monitor. "Leave it to the crazy scientist to name his things,"

Miguel ignores what his AI had said, instead focusing back on the chip. If this succeeds, it’ll be the first dimensional trip the prototype could make, and he’d prefer not to be a piece of burnt toast once he comes out of it. He coded another line, before he ran a diagnostic. The screen glares red, the annoyingly big letters of ‘ERROR’ pops up.

Miguel blinks, before he feels his claws coming out, promptly making him stand and throw his chair across the room. It shatters, the metal pieces clinking to the concrete floor. He heaves, sharp fangs bared, barely causing anger at his fingertips. 

Lyla fixes him with a look. “That your fifth chair Miguel,”

The man takes a steady breath, wiping his hand across his face, working at his jaw. He tilts his head sharply and something pops. He faintly hears Lyla clicking her tongue. 

"There's a guy I know,"

—

"What do you mean there isn't any- I booked a single room last week," 

"I'm sorry but there must've been a mishap in the system. I'm going to have to put you with an available roommate," 

"I don't want-" Miguel sighs, tapping his foot insistently. "Look, is there any way I can register for another single room?" 

"You can wait a couple of weeks for a vacant room, but you'd need to consult with the head of the faculty." She nodded to him, a regretful look behind those blonde bangs. Miguel huffs, hands on his hips, thinking out a decision. 

"Fine," He groans. "Who's still available for a roommate then?" 

The girl's brows raise before she quickly types something into the computer, reading out what looks like a list with numbers and names. "Oh!" She smiles. "Room 304, on the third floor is still awaiting a roommate,"

"Great, thank you," Miguel grumbles, already picking up his boxes where he left them on the floor.

"If you'd like-" The girl calls for him again. "I can talk to the faculty member, see if I can help you with the room situation," 

"Sure, I'd appreciate it," Miguel's back is already turned to her as he makes his way to the building's elevator. With his gym bag slung over his shoulder, and the boxes of his unfinished work, traversing the hallway takes a bit of an effort. Students were not mingling around because most of them were already in their rooms, with the time turning just after 5 PM. 

Finally, he reaches the elevator doors. Miguel shuffles the boxes into one hand, struggling to press the button before he is beaten to it by another hand reaching for the ascend button too. 

"Here man, let me help you," The person says, already picking up the two boxes that cover Miguel's vision even before he said anything.

"Hey don't-" He begins, before he finally gets a good look at the person that dared to touch his scraps. The man in front of him, standing just inches taller than him, hair with an unintelligible style, captivating eyes and the faintest smirk on his lips. 

Miguel's brain stutters a bit. "I'm- nevermind, thanks," 

"Of course dude," And Miguel's interest plummets. "What floor?"

"Third please," He nods, pressing the button once he and Miguel get in. The door closes and leaves the two in silence, only the faint whirr of the elevator's machine. 

"So, late to dorm assignments?" 

"Nah, they messed up my request," 

"Shit, really?" He turns to Miguel, his brows furrowed. 

"Yeah, now I'm stuck with a damn roomie,"

"Oh yeah? What room?" 

"304, apparently," Miguel huffs, looking down into the box he's carrying, the tape on it peeling slightly. The guy halts, now his brows are raised. 

Miguel's turn to look confused, before the guy chuckles lightly. "Funny you say that 'cuz," 

"I'm room 304," He smirks, readjusting the boxes. 

There's a pause, before he feels the red of embarrassment gathers on his cheeks. "You're-" 

"That damn roomie? Yeah,"

"Fuck, sorry I didn't-"

"No no, it's fine! Really," The guy laughs, shaking his head while Miguel tries to formulate a coherent sentence. "I don't mind man, I get wanting your own space though," 

"Hey, I hope I'll be a good roomie," He bumps Miguel's shoulder lightly, his smile not fading. Miguel finds himself mimicking it slightly. After that, he introduced himself to Miguel, his major and such.

The elevator opens just after that, the two make their way down the hallway. He asks about Miguel's major too, just as they reach the door. 

"I seriously didn't think I'd get a roomie," He chuckles, turning the key with a million other key chains. It jingles, before he pushes the door open and into the room. "I'll go check with the front desk-" 

"Oh!" He turns after putting down the two boxes he was carrying. "Just got the text, said they'll give you the key tomorrow," 

"Great," Miguel rolls his eyes, putting down his box on the vacant desk and his duffle on the chair. He turns, inspecting the room that he's been sent to stay in. One side is already cluttered with his roommate's stuff, plants and books and papers strewn about. He tilts his head when he spots a flag on his desk.

"You're trans?" Miguel asks, turning to him where he was still standing with his phone out. He hums and lifts his head, meeting Miguel's browns.

"Oh that old thing? Yeah," He scratches the back of his neck. "I know, I get it. No one really cares nowadays, the worlds moved on, whatever," 

He glances at the little flag, pink and white and blue adding color to the messy desk. He smiles. "It's a reminder, I guess," 

Miguel stares at the flag, just once, before he nods and shrugs, turning to open his boxes. "Sure, that's cool," 

He can practically feel the sunshine radiating from his roommate behind him. He crosses his arms, turning again to face him, and he's right because his roommate has a really bright smile. "I hope we'll be good friends, Miguel," 

—

"Miguel there's so many people in Nueva York how am I supposed to-'' Lyla stops, before she grins. "Nevermind, found him!" 

Miguel finishes his spider shot, cracking his neck again as he sets the syringe down. He turns towards Lyla, the AI already projecting the location. "Looks like our guy lives in… the slums? I thought you said he was a prodigy," 

"Yeah well not everyone gets a decent job even if they are a genius," Miguel huffs, running his hand through his hair as he looks at the mirror.

"Who's you said the guy was again?" Lyla begins to scroll through the data. 

Miguel sighs. "Old roommate, back in college," 

"Ooh, interesting," She giggles.

"Lyla don't-" 

"I'm not looking through his history! Just a peek, though," 

Miguel lets out another sigh, walking towards the large opened window. "Uh, hey Miguel, are you sure about this?" 

"Why what's wrong?" 

Lyla displays her screen as it glitches in front of Miguel. According to her research, the old roomie has been caught by the police stealing items from hardware stores and electronic stores, a handful of accounts of disruption of peace according to the other tenants in his old apartment. And he's currently deemed missing.

"Where did you say his location was?" Miguel reads through the file, his brows knitted. 

"Just here, some abandoned warehouse in the slums," 

—

“Miguel, man, you’ve got to eat,” A tray for warm food was suddenly placed between Miguel's paperwork. He huffs, pushing the plate away and to the edge of his already small table. He hears a sigh, before the plate is moved out of his peripherals, and Miguel is back into his work.

“Dude, you only ate like, one energy bar after going to the gym,” 

“I’m fine,” 

Another exasperated sigh, before his roommate goes back to whatever robotics he was working on. Miguel has been perfecting his latest assignment the whole week, going back and forth on his computer, writing down research papers and consulting with his professors. Meanwhile, the man that he shares his room with is tinkering with a recent robotic piece he’s been pouring his heart into.

It’s correct that they share most of their schedule together. Miguel would wake up before dawn, and so would he. They’d run a couple of laps around campus before hitting the gym just before it gets too crowded. He’d spot for Miguel while Miguel would comment on his form if it needs any improvement. Sometimes they’d share breakfast together, before they head for their different classes, though ever since Miguel has been engrossed in his recent paperwork, their time spent together has been blessed. It'd be a lie to say Miguel doesn't miss their shared time, but he supposes seeing him back in their room after a long day is enough. Though, it doesn't seem enough for his friend. 

Unbeknownst to Miguel, his roommates have been supporting a devastating crush on him. Stolen glances, longing eyes whenever Miguel's back is turned towards him. Times when he’d stare a bit too long whenever Miguel was doing his bench presses, times when he’d stand close just to feel the comforting warmth beside him. He’d fuss over Miguel, bringing food or drinks, bringing things Miguel might've forgotten with his busy schedule. Sometimes, when Miguel worked too late and too much, he’d fall asleep on his desk, at which he’d bring his blanket to cover Miguel’s back. In the morning, he rolls his eyes and says something about Miguel getting a bad back, which Miguel would promptly ignore. 

It’s currently Friday night. The man that's sitting on the opposite side of the room has seemingly lost interest in his robotics and decided to peer out of their bedroom window. Suddenly, Miguel is bombarded by a loud shout coming from outside of their room, and snaps quickly to the source. He sees his roommate has opened the bedroom window and is looking out into the campus’ courtyard. 

“Yeah, I'll join you! Be right down!” He hollers, before he shuts and locks the window. Miguel turns, blinking away the slight dizziness he got. 

“Who was that?” 

“A friend, they're having a party at one of the frat houses, you wanna join?” He grins, pulling on his leather jacket and pocketing his belongings. Miguel has never been to a party and he's not about to start going, especially when he has a deadline to push. He shakes his head, always swiveling back his chair. 

“No thanks,” 

He hears his friend scoff. “Come on Miguel! You’ve been working on that thing for ages now, you deserve a break, and the deadline isn't for another month!” 

“I’m not interested,” Miguel bites back, barely glancing at his pleas. 

“Just this once, I promise it’ll be fun! I’ll be there and I can take care of-”

“I said I'm not interested.” He spits out, already hunching into the part he’s soldiering. He doesn't hear anything, not an answer or another push for him to join. The air has changed, something heavy hangs between them. The tension is palpable, but despite it all Miguel only hears the shuffling of his friend's boots. 

“Sure, whatever,” His roommate fixes a stare at the back of Miguel's head, before he unlocks their door. “Y’know, one of these days that work of yours is going to destroy you if you're not careful,” 

And with that, he leaves Miguel alone for the night. 

—

“What the fuck!” Miguel jumps and manages to hold on to the side of the building. “Lyla searches for his weakness points!”

“Hah! You think this has a weakness, Miguel?!” The man shouts, a wide grin on his lips. “I’ve perfected these arms, they are practically indestructible!” 

“SO this is how you greet your old roommate?” 

“I’d prefer for us to meet for coffee, but after how you treated me, I think this…” He brings a menacing robotic arm towards him, as if to inspect it. “Is way better,” 

The arm suddenly lunges towards Miguel which he narrowly avoids. He jumps and entwines two of the appendages together as he lands behind the man, at which he growls and breaks free of Miguel’s red webs. “I never treated you badly!”

“No, not really huh,” He smirks. “But you never noticed the shit I did for you anyways!” 

He spears those sharp arms towards Miguel which he does a couple of doges before jumping down the rooftop they were currently fighting on. 

“All of those morning coffees, late dinners, all for nothing! None! All because you were so fucking focused-” He sharply turns, grabbing Miguel’s wrist and stopping him from dropping a punch. He suddenly pulls Miguel towards him, burning anger behind those eyes. “On combining a damn spider's DNA with yourself!” 

He throws the Spiderman across the street, breaking several walls until the momentum finally stops. Miguel groans, cracking his neck when Lyla suddenly pops up. “Boss, the control panel for those arms is on his back, if you could pull it apart from him, it’ll stop him from controlling it,”

“On it.” Miguel swiftly stands, running through the many rooms he passed before leaping into the air, catching the man off guard. He throws a punch that lands on his face, throwing him off balance and into the concrete street below. He grows, and fixes his jaw, before launching back to full force against Miguel. 

“It was all fine until you went out with that fucking brunette!” He shouts, throwing debris towards Miguel which he weaves and dodges. “Did I ever mean anything to you?!”

He’s got Miguel pinned to the ground, and pushes all of the arms to stab at him, but instead misses and gets buried in the ground instead when Miguel swiftly pulls away with his web. He struggles to get the appendages out of the strong concrete, suddenly finding them stuck, an opportunity for Miguel to rip the control panel off. He swings above the man, landing directly behind him where he quickly digs his nails into the seams of the panel. 

“I’m sorry,” Miguel manages before he pulls. An ear-splitting scream, before deathly silence. Miguel could only hear his heavy breath, before sparks of green ran through the man's body, and it jolted him. He shouts, before falling into the pavement. Miguel takes a beat to examine the control panel, before throwing it somewhere on the ground. He spots the bareback of his once roommate, a horrid sight of root-like marks growing around the man's back. Miguel furrows his brows, before he hears the faint police sirens, no doubt coming over to clean up the commotion. 

Just as Miguel was about to make his leave, he heard the man cough, a horrid groan behind him. Miguel glances slightly, as he hears him begin to speak. 

“I was right… Your work did destroy you.”

Requests are opened! Remember to reblog!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Can you write some Dream with a Filipino! Reader please???

Beer

Dream of the Endless x Reader + Corinthian x Reader

Summary: You want to get drunk because he's gone. Oh, and Corinthian is so going to take advantage of that.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Filipino!Reader, gender neutral!reader, I use filipino, mentions of heavy drinking/drunkennes, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: Hey nonnie, tbfh, being filipino played no part in this fic besides the fact she speaks some filipino and sings a filipino song, which is why i added in the warnings instead of the pairing lol ANYWAY, this can kinD OF DOUBLE AS A p2 for Thorn At My Side, although it kind of doesn't really mention much about what happens in that fic and is mostly centered on my fav nightmare But whatever I am tagging everyone who commented on that @cleverzonkwombatsludge @pinksirensong @lexi-anastasia @aralezinspace @emy635 @libra207 @secretdreamlandmentality @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9 Please listen to Beer by Itchyworms, because that's what reader is busting out a lung to here's then english translation if you're curious Part 3 ig "Not Enough"

Corinthian snorted as he watched from his personal corner of the bar. He was deeply impressed by how drunk, yet on key the singer was as each song progressed. This, he notes, would be the 3rd drunken and broken hearted song confession of the night.

When it ends, the crowd cheers but the performer does not care.

Corinthian smirks to himself, taking a sip of his drink. If heartbreak was the recipe for a star performer, then more people should try getting their heart ripped out.

The intro of the next song started to play.

The guitar riff to the familiar tune made my heart clench. Much like the song, I took a swig of beer-- whoever's it was didn't seem to mind. It tasted horrible. I never liked beer. But the burn down my throat was exhilarating. It was well welcomed with all this sorrow in my chest.

I mistakenly use my bottle as a mic when I sing the first lyric.

Someone in the crowd telling me this was made me realize it.

"Dahil wala ka na," I sang the next line.

Because you're gone.

I smack myself with the beer bottle when I begin to think of Dream.

Fuck that.

Corinthian licked his lips, grabbing his glass as he made his way closer to the performance. He pushes his shades up and places a hand in his pocket as the music from the speakers grew louder with every step he took.

He surveyed the room. Corinthian thought of how much of a waste it was for the crowd to be as receptive and appreciative of the performance, though they had no idea what the words meant, when the singer was too intoxicated to even be able to tell.

Corinthian listens to how the lyric about returned gumamelas was sung, how beer was dumped down on it like a sad throat, and how, much like your feelings, the flower was still very much alive after it all.

It was so pathetic it was funny.

Corinthian downs the last of his own drink as the chorus started.

Nah, this was definitely the limit. Aint no way anyone that hammered is making it past the chorus.

He rolled his shoulders, readying for the inevitable, as he enjoyed the severely vulnerable words of the song. The nightmare in him thrived in the pain. It pays to be language omniscient. At least he could thank Dream for that one thing.

Corinthian was nearly a second too late when it happened.

I blink rapidly, my lightheadedness distracted by the gasp of the crowd. It was pretty weird that my head wasn't hurt by the impact of me falling after tripping on a mic chord.

"Steady there, doll face."

I look at the smirking blonde before me, swearing I knew him, even though I didn't.

"Aw, it's Corinthian, babe. I can't believe you'd forget your favorite nightmare," he says, getting me onto my feet, "alcoholism doesn't suit you very well."

He leads me off, placing the mic on the stand. The crowd stirs. I turn over to the TV still flashing the lyrics of my song, "hindi pa tapos."

Not yet done? Corinthian pulls me close to him, brow quirking, "I'm pretty sure you're past done, doll."

I turn to him when I crash onto his firm chest. I barely see my reflection on his thick glasses. I realize he was holding a cup of water in his hand when he brings it up to my lips.

I take the glass from him and drink it.

"Honestly, I should just kill you."

I choke on my water. I feel it come out of my nose.

Corinthian chuckles dryly, shaking his head, "wouldn't you like that? Your Dream Daddy broke your heart. Don't you wanna break his?" The sound of my coughing makes Corinthian think he might not have to do anything for the moron to die.

He grabs the cup from my hand, sets it on a random surface, and leads me out of the bar as I continue racketing my lungs.

"Geez," he pats my back, "you secretly have TB or something?"

I shrug him off as we walk down the pavement. He watches me as I look at him, "you know my dad?"

"What?"

"Sabi mo 'dream daddy', eh hindi-"

This bitch really talking about a dad?

Corinthian mutes out the next words, turning his attentions to the street. He pulls me to the left so that I don't step on a smallish pothole I don't even see.

He peers down to his side, finding the rant 10x more annoying since it was being spoken in a language the idiot was clearly very comfortable with.

"Shut up," Corinthian snips.

I turn up to him, furrowing my brows, "are you my boyfriend?"

Corinthian snorts, ripping me back by my top when I continue walking, though it was a red light. I choke on my collar as I wind up falling back into his chest.

"That depends on how pissed off dad would be if I were."

"It's none of my dad's business who I date."

Corinthian hums, "but it is my dad's."

"You have a strict dad?"

Corinthian snorts, lips curving into a lopsided smile, "oh, you have no idea."

We begin to walk again, and Corinthian turns up to his right when he catches sight of a fluttering black bird. He pulls me closer to him, throwing his arm around my shoulder. He dives his hand to his pocket and takes a stick of gum, popping it into his mouth. He chews it, enjoying the mint for a moment.

"Good news, babe," he starts, "I'm your boyfriend now."

My face contorts, "what?"

"Nightmare."

I am abruptly pulled into a stop. I topple against Corinthian.

"Daddy dearest," said nightmare states, hand gripping one of my shoulder's firmly, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

I look at the man he was addressing, the dark hair and blue eyes make my stomach churn, but I push it away as I look up to the grinning man I was next to. I wrap my arm around his torso, as not to be left in such an awkward position. He turns to me, licking his lips.

"Your dad isn't blonde?" I mutter.

Corinthian laughs, "no he is not. It's kinda funny you don't remember."

"Enough."

Corinthian turns to his maker. He watches as Dream's face tenses, "unhand your captive this instant."

"There's no captive here, pops," he tilts his head, turning to me, "tell 'im. Aren't I your boyfriend, dearest?"

"Uhm," I think, then turn to Corinthian's dad, "yes, sir."

Corinthian holds back a laugh. He wills his face into neutrality. It takes everything in him not to flat out yak at Dream's furious look. Still, he exercises his self-control well.

"You heard it yourself."

"Except," Dream steps forward. A bunch of passersby gives us all weird looks. "You clearly got alcohol-"

"I didn't get alcohol anywhere."

"Oh? Then why does it reek-"

"You know why," Corinthian blurts, "a consequence of trying to forget you, Dream."

"Dream?" I perk up at the sound, turning from Corinthian then otherwise. When I catch his face, when I realize who the man with the dark hair and blue eyes before me was, I hide myself in Corinthian's chest. My heartbeat begins to exhilerate.

Corinthian finds himself acting out of instinct. He pulls me close to him, "don't worry, baby, I got you."

Dream fumes.

"Besides, he can't banish you in your own neighborhood," he smirks to Dream, "now can he?"

"Corinthian," Dream utters with a conviction that shakes the nightmare to his core. It makes him tense. It makes his stomach drop.

However, the spreading feel of wetness on his shirt snaps him out of it.

"Yeah," Cori says, "bye."

I grip on him tightly as we begin to walk away. A chill runs down my spine when he pass Dream. Corinthian experiences the same thing.

We make it down the block in relative silence, relative because beyond the sound of cars, there was a soft voice in my mind calling out to me.

Corinthian silences his own by speaking up, "you wanna have some sinigang? There's a Filipino restaurant just across the street."

I close my eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, as I nod against him.

[ramennoodlezzzao3]

nobody asked me to answer, but I’m gonna anyways 😝

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats 

Idk how to do that lol

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

I couldn’t find any fics that I wanted bc I’m too specific, so I started writing. It was purely for fun and I wasn’t fully thinking about the fact that people might actually read it AND enjoy it lol

  🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

me and some of my moots from TikTok created this playlist lol (it’s, like, 14 hours long)

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? Idk what that means but ima go off of what I’m thinking and that is just editing while proof reading and I enjoy it! 10/10

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🙏👉😁🔥💀 (no, it’s not abt the burning church 💀🙏)

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

I’m new here, I have no EXTREMELY close moots so idk. But @paul-ster seems pretty chill so probably them (

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

I HAVE SO MANY I LOVE! But if I had to choose rn Soracha for the author and “Ron Weasley and His First Year at Hogwarts” by snoopy_owl. Two of my favs!

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now? 

none, believe it or not. I constantly check it for ao3 updates. But I also have three separate yt accounts so I get regular emails abt comments and updates and I normally check them everyday. The only exception is one email I use for spam sites like grammarly, that email has 408 unread emails.

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

@fictionalcharactergraveyard

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? 

ooo, neither tbh. Unless its a one-shot or a mini fic where I add a S/O or like my unpublished Uber fic where I had to add several OG characters, I don’t like adding new ones bc I think it disrupts the story a lot and I normally don’t read fics when people do that. And personally, unless it’s the ones that are supposed to be halrious and satire, I think self-inserts are kinda cringey bc most people who write them over-sexulize the characters and add weird stuff in that makes me cringe (key word: MOST not ALL) but also I just cant imagine myself dating someone let alone my comfort characters.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

I don’t think I have any

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?

I just can’t get into the writing mood. But when I start it’s really hard to stop

  🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

PURLY! I love to think Curly calls pony “Mi Amor” or like calls him pet names in Spanish. I think it’s really cute

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

literally don’t be fake as hell. Don’t be all shy and sweet like, if you are comeback or Yapping king/queen then tell me bc we can yap together. Like, If I can call you Pookie within the first four interactions, we are besties, considered us married at that point

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

I’m redecorating my room, I got a new puppy, and- wait, bitch, who gives a fuck, let’s be honest 💀🙏

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

can’t say bc it’s an unpublished chapter of a on going fic 😝

  🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Harry Potter is kinda an ass

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I don’t write anything too bizarre so I can’t think of anything

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

strive to accomplish what you set as a goal, not what society set as a standard or a must

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

My comfort character gets ignored hard core, makes new friends, get into shenanigans, and then a lot of angst ensues. Who would write it best? Mmm…Fictionalcharacter graveyard or Soracha

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

if you have a scene you want to write for a fic, start writing it but ONLY WRITE THE DIALOGUE. You can add who said it but I do it all the time and it gives me new ideas and gradually helps me continue a fic. It’s also easier to add detail in between when you are focused on that instead of getting to the next dialogue scene.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

Nick Sturniolos iconic “Then he will taste the rainbow while he goes out”

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

“I LOVE THIS, I CAN’T WAIT FOR ANOTHER CHAPTER!” Then they go on an entire yap session about how they think the fic will turn out or parts they’re excited for. It always makes me happy to see someone enjoy my hobby as much as I do even though we have different perspectives 🤭

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

Alr, ik im gonna get backlash but i cant stand Cherry Valence. 1. I will give it to her, she’s a downright badass.

2. her hair is really pretty

3. She was nice to pony at the drive in, I’ll give her some points (still don’t like her too much tho)

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told?

Not much. Okay, this is gonna sound so fricking clique but that last lie I told was “Yeah, I’m fine, just tired” even though I know damn well I’m probably depressed asf

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

I have only older siblings and every time one moves out, I stop talking to them so I don’t become the annoying youngest sister, so I’m afraid their gonna forget about me, and they probably will. I only have two siblings that still live with me so that’s only two more people left to forget me before I’m totally alone lol. (Depressed, see?)

  🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

book writers that can describe really well.

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

I think I’m too impatient and give myself an unrealistic deadline for stuff

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?

I like them a lot!

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

I’ll add that later lol

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

it was a name my family wouldn’t be able to find. I’m embarrassed to write bc my family LOVES to pick out your insecurities and hobbies and never let you live them down.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

again, I’m new here, so nobody here is my “supporter” but @shae-pine has liked all of my posts so ig them? I got to say, that “The Youngest (The Favorite)” fic I really liked! Ur also just the sweetest person ever! 😭🫶🏻

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

I have 7 (I had 8 but my cat passed away yesterday, RIP in the comments for Sophie 🩵)

I won’t post pics because that’s a large file 😭🙏

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

I DONT HAVE THE LINK BUT I LOVE THIS

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

self insert, too much OOC scenes, pairings I don’t like, oc’s/characters unless it’s the character I’m reading abt, pure smut or p*rn, over sexulization or romanticizing R*pe, over detailed non-con, specific characters are dead, and the fic doesn’t focus on a character that I wanna read about.

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Rating Hayden Christensen movies Part 1

Thank you to @quinnsstars for the original post. I actually reblogged and added thoughts/ratings to her post but I just wanna put it in the tag in case anyone else might appreciate the ridiculous ratings and reviews lmao

Me and @jillybean1217 as we have now watched the following Hayden Christensen movies (as I’ve read in HC’s tag here on Tumblr, it’s not a Hayden flick if there’s not Tears or Tits or Both so that’s one of the Rating Categories):

Outcast

Movie: 3 / 5

Hayden: 10 / 5

Tears or Tits: Both!

I’m always going to be partial to a long on top but shaved on the sides haircut on a handsome man. Hayden is a Crusader Knight named Jacob while Nicholas Cage is a Knight named Gallain.

Hayden is so amazing in fights: super graceful in both hand to hand combat and with any type of sword. Jacob does lean towards Legolas levels of skill in this which isn’t terribly believable as he’s human, on opium (which he sticks in his mouth like it’s chewing tobacco??), and more often than not just this side of mortally wounded 😄 Yet he persists and looks so good whilst doing it. Covered in blood is a look I didn’t know i was into either, ha. The only minus for me with him was his accent went from British to Irish to Scottish, with Canadian slipping through kind of consistently.

Tears or Tits: Tears cuz he goes through physical pain and tits out cuz he bathes / has to be patched up when hurt.

Nick Cage is being Nick Cage in this so if that’s entertaining for you, you’ll be entertained when Nick pops up. Unfortunately I just remained puzzled about Crusader Knights in ancient China. Don’t think it falls under white savior though cuz dude was just trying to be on opium lol

90 Minutes In Heaven

Hayden: 1 / 5

Movie: 2 / 5

Tears or Tits: Tears

I understand if this 1980s Tom Selleck mustachioed vibe is for someone, but it is not for me. Hayden also made a choice to make his character Don Piper - based on a real person - Colonel Sanders level Southern…which was WILD cuz we get a clip of the real pastor preaching at the end of the movie and he doesn’t have an accent, like, at all.

We have referred to this as a Jesus movie as it’s produced by a company specifically making religious movies, and Christianity might as well have top billing. I’m sure the message could be for someone, just not for me.

The dramatization of the story also was too illogical and wild for me. Tell me when State Police would tell a man to go ahead and pray for a victim and then allow this random person to walk into an accident scene, climb into a mangled car and then LAY HIS HAND ON THE CORPSE to pray for the person?!? Don was also portrayed as very selfish and almost childish cuz he couldn’t understand why God had let him into heaven only to bring him back to a lot of pain and suffering. His parents, his kids, and his wife provided no inspiration for him to get his attitude together and I found myself actively disliking him.

Tears or Tits: Tears, usually of pain, and some wild noises that out of context? I could appreciate 🤐

Little Italy

Movie: 3.5 / 5

Hayden: 4 / 5

Tears or Tits: Tits

I love (and miss) rom coms which is what this is so I was down. I am such a sucker and a sap, I’ll watch the same plot 72 different ways (i watch all the Hallmark autumn movies every year). This is in no way original which doesn’t have to be a bad thing but this could have been done better. Tropes include: childhood friends to enemies, fck boi/sleep with everyone, rival families, leaving small neighborhood and return, 1-on-1 competition with each other.

Leo Campoli (how he’s introduced at a local fest) / Leo Campo (how the character is credited at the end of the flick) is adorable. I’m just confused by his - and everyone’s - New York accents? Cuz the film takes place in Little Italy in TORONTO CANADA! I guess everyone thought “Italian accent” somehow was equivalent to New York accent which was disappointing.

Despite being the neighborhood bicycle, Leo is sweet, helpful and thoughtful. Super adorable. And i like his dark hair, makes his eyes pop. It’s just funny that they obviously did reshoots or shot at some point after the original shoot cuz his hair is distracting in its difference

And I just love this one of him "dancing"

Unfortunately Emma Roberts plays the other romantic lead and I don’t like her as a person (mean girl and transphobe). I also found her character unlikable in her “I’m better than my home” attitude, as well as just found her devoid of charisma or charm. If I’m not rooting for both leads in a rom com, it’s not a great movie for me.

Tears or tits: Tits! Gratuitous and wonderful

BONUS! He plays soccer in the rain.

I have plot bunnies for all of these characters (not proud about the phone sex PWP for the pastor lmaooooo) now lol

[olderthannetfic]

I saw some stuff related to tagging and it made me think abt the way I tagged my last fic. This may take me a minute to explain and sometimes my words don't come out right so before anyone has the chance to misinterpret my intentions: this is just the way I like to tag. I have no opinion on how others tag, and as long as they're responsible in their tagging, I find the way people tag to be entirely neutral. I just had thoughts and wanted to share, is all.

As I was writing it, I started to realize that there were pretty heavy unreality elements. I would give a definition for unreality, but I don't know how to describe it and Google is free.

The fic involves heavy manipulation elements, and the first chapter is from the manipulated character's POV, and he never discovers that he's being manipulated. The reason this had heavy, actual possible real life unreality elements is because with the way I was writing it, and the way I planned on tagging it, the reader's perceptions were being manipulated as well, to the point where if you aren't well versed in manipulation tactics it would be a fair assumption from the first chapter that this was a human AU (the character in question is an alien). This had me concerned, as I am psychotic and have unreality as a very real trigger. At the same time, while yes, I had to take breaks while writing, playing with unreality in the safe, controlled environment of the fic was actually kinda fun, and I'd say it even added to the experience, so I didn't want to overtly tag for it, along with the fact that tagging for it would spoil the twist.

Then there was also the dubious consent for the sexual encounter, but it only reads as dubious if you have the context of the second chapter from the manipulator's POV, and in the end both characters POVs read like they were thoroughly enjoying the scene, so I felt like the dubcon tag wouldn't really fit, along with the fact that that was more spoilers for the twist. The reason I felt it didn't fit is because I like dubcon, and likely would not have been satisfied by what I wrote if I were going looking for dubcon.

The eventual compromise I made was to give very vague tags alongside the tags "CNTW" and "Additional Warnings In Author's Note". The warnings were put in the end notes of chapter two, with the beginning notes telling the reader as such and suggesting that they read without them if possible, as that was the intended reading experience.

And then, ofc, someone bookmarked the fic with all the spoilery tags I was avoiding, lol

I guess this is kind of a result of me growing up in both cultures. I got my start in fanfiction on FFN, and was used to routinely discovering incredibly fucked up things that led to a number of sexual awakenings, and for a while I actively avoided Ao3 because the search function intimidated me. I eventually made the switch and figured it out anyways, and suddenly a whole new world was opened up to me because I could find all the gloriously fucked up fic my heart could ever desire. At the same time, sometimes I was not in the headspace to deal with something, so I would avoid certain tags. On one hand, I appreciate the tagging system as a reader. On the other hand, sometimes you just want that surprise and shock value as a writer, y'know?

--

[yorshie]

Me skipping unto your inbox for the ask game thing ⛷️

B H I N R T U

Stuck it under a read more line cuz it got LONG lol. thank you for asking, nonnie!

B- hmm... while none of my fics are directly inspired by personal experiences, the emotions behind a few of them are. I like using writing as therapy sometimes, a safe place to get out an emotion so i can process it appropriately

H- i would call it just shy of a run on sentence lol, with a lot of emphasis on using faces and hands as vehicles to cue the correct emotions in readers. I know i was really inspired by ET Hoffman's short stories when i got into college and really started to play with writing stories. I wanted something that flowed like water, something close to emotional poetry. Every now and then i have a fic that i tilt my head at and go "oooo yea i barfed all over that" lol, but i do enjoy the process of seeing how much scenery or description i can shove into a scene before it gets tedious to read.

I - Me? A guilty pleasure in fic? hahahaha noooooooo. *sweats* ....... i mean, the list is a little long.... but if i was going to admit to anything in a general sense, I might admit to a fondness for soulmate fics.....

N - hm.... no? I mean, i'm comfortable with my current wips and my plans for them, and i know exactly how i want them handled. As for fics I wish other's would write, I don't think it's an exaggeration to say i start vibrating with excitement anytime my friends float a new fic (or art)idea. They are all so talented, and while there is a list I'm eyeing at the dinner table like a starving raccoon, i know how much work going into creating a fic. I am patient lol, but I'm always ready to pounce on new story or cheer them on.

R - Oh gosh.... hm.... shootybangbang (not tagging because i technically don't talk to them) really inspired me in my red dead time because we were covering some similar subject matter at the same time. @desceros infected me with hand appreciation and I've noticed sometimes i word things in a manner they might, definitely feel a little more prone to poetry after i read their work. ET Hoffman for sure, his short stories were a big influence, probably because i read The Golden Pot while having the Flu. If we go back to my werewolf boyfriend days probably Lora Leigh. And just general inspiration and influence that helps me get my stories out i have to add the whole turtle fam. Best people to have in your corner.

T - Hm.... one sided fights. I don't really like it when one character does Everything wrong and the "reader" just sits there and takes it or cries. I think everyone has a natural breaking point, where you turn around and bite back, and sense i have a pretty big bite back tendency, lol, i end up doing that meme 'when Y/N does something i would never do'. Cuz I'd even take Big Blue down a peg or two if he decided to be a little shit. And I don't really like the connotation that someone might actually "care" for someone and do that, yell at them while they cry. I don't like yelling, i don't like fighting really, but I really don't like just taking it. So that bleeds over i guess.

U - 3? Just 3??? I am sorry nonnie but there are so many. I cannot play favorites and risk leaving someone out. just to name a few of tmnt writers whose stories i read: @desceros @gbao3 @justalotoffanfiction @fuckedupcleric @friggysblog @thejudiciousneurotic @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @oozedninjas @tinkabelle24 @damniteggs @avery73 and so much more but I feel strange tagging them because i don't technically speak to them. As to why I like them so much, it's because they're telling stories! that in itself is wonderful! I can't stress how much I just love wonderful storytelling! Adding @khayalli and @hitwiththetmnt because even though they are artists primarily, they are telling stories with their art! *looking around* gosh there's so many people. And I'm sure I've forgotten someone. I'm gonna feel horrible about that. Just know if I've ever commented/kudos/reblogged, etc, I loved your stories and art.

[citrus-blade]

20 questions for Writers thing

I got tagged by the wonderful @mistythedritten! thank you!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

Sixteen! I added like 7 due to the Citrus Dreamnoblade Week lol

2. What is your word count?

250.818! honestly more than I thught lol

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Dream SMP! :] (I used to write for Good Omens on another account a bit ago but have abandoned this lol)

4. What are your top 5 fics? (stats)

I'll go by Kudos! :] Infinitesimal, Home, Treasure, Hiraeth - Part 1 and Chains! :]

5. Do you always respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! Sometimes when I don't know what to comment and it would just be a 'thank you', that i already wrote 3 times to a different person I won't. usually I try to always bring something unique to a comment to show how much I appreciate them!

However, when someone comments on a fanfiction that has long been finished I usually don't reply cause I'm not sure if that would be seen as weird or not. I'm really insecure when it comes to replying comments cause I don't wanna be annoying

6. Angstiest ending for a fic?

Oof... i think it's Home (but it's more on the bittersweet one) or Time. But if you put them next to each other it's deffo Time. Hubert is also kinda angsty but the story is kinda fast paced that it doesn't feel angsty lol

7. First Fic with a Happy Ending?

Golden! My first ever DNB fic and therefore also the first one with a happy ending! :]

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Yeah! That's why I have to agree to comments for them to be public on my fanfictions! It's always anon and usually just people calling me names and slurs, trying to tell me what a horrible person I am lol

Can't really take this serious tbh

9. Do you write smut?

Yes! I really enjoy reading smut and also like writing it! I'm not good in it and I'm always frustrating a bit but I still enjoy it!

10. Do you write crossovers?

Ehhh, not really? But also yes...? I wrote a pokemon crossover, but I don't think that doesn't really count cause it's more an AU and none of the main characters of the anime/games appear except for Team Rocket. I think. I don't remember which villains I took, there are a lot.

I usually don't write crossovers because I'm unsure how good I can represent the other show. I'd love to write a Star Wars one or a Hogwarts one, but I am NOT into those movies and am too scared to write something that doesn't make sense. So usually I try to take apsects of those universes and try to turn it into my own kinda thing.

For example my Dragon Rider-AU that I am working on was supposed to be a Hogwarts AU with magic, but it kinda turned into it's own thing with focus on Dragons but still with magic! :D

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so? If anyone ever sees any of my fanfictions somewhere that's not AO3 please tell me! But as far as I'm aware none was stolen! :]

12. Ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I think Infinitesimal was started to translate in two languages, but I'm not sure if that's still happening. I know some chapters were uploaded? And apparently someone wanted to translate Apocylapse into russian!

13. Ever co-written?

Nope! Don't really know how that works tbh lol

14. Favorite ship?

Dreamnoblade and DNF!

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but probably never will?

OOF. I have sworn to myself to always finish what I start to write so not sure. Some ideas probably will never happen, but usually when I start writing something I will finish it sooner or later, specially when I started posting it somewhere

16. Writing strenghts?

No clue, I don't know if I have a specific strength. Sometimes I like something I write and then I read it and hate it lol

17. Writing weaknesses?

FIGHT SCENES MY ABSOLUTE ENEMY!!!

18. Thoughts on dialog in another language in a fic?

I write in english but think about including german sometimes lol When Attack on titan can do it in their openings I can do it in my fanfiction! Usually I like it as long as the translation is given atp in the fanfiction! :D

19. First fandom you have written for?

OOF. Eeeehm. I think Good Omens. I orphaned all my stuff there though lol

20. Favorite fic you have written?

Infinitesimal and Home :] (I also like that pokemon one lol)

And that's it! That was fun! :]

I'm too insecure to tag someone so whoever wanna do this, do it! :]

[ace-fandom-dumbass]

i just wanted to say ur one of the few people who gets Darcy like i do. get booped in appreciation.

Ooh hi!

Lol that's right you would have gotten my tag rambling too, yeah! I went into the book having seen both the social anxiety/autism darcy memes and people responses to them talking about how they ignore his intended canon arc, and then whem reading it myself it was just like "it's both? It's literally both?"

Like "I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear intrested in their concerns, as I often see done" yeah same buddy, thats the brain being weird and different, what can you do

Or "He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with other" buddy I have literally done that, we are the same

But other parts very clearly set up the "proud asshole who needs to check his attitude/behavior" that is meant to be the starting point of his arc (like the "tolerable but not handsome enough" comment) and at the end he literally outlines where he started and where he's at and how her telling him off made him reevaluate, the intended arc is very much present and important.

A few moments even add to both, my main example there is actually the same conversation as the "tolerable" comment, because right before that when Bingley first presses him to join the dance, his answer is

"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with"

(Emphasis added by me)

In this response he blends the "oh yeah, that makes sense/is relatable" with the "yeah that was unnecessary and pretty rude". Like, yeah, being forced to do something you don't really like with someone you don't know sucks and feels like a punishment! But I understand that just saying that would definitely be rude.

The two readings aren't mutually exclusive! Darcy's 100% autistic, has social anxiety, and had a major character arc to go through, thank you for coming to my ted talk

Whoo more rambling, uh, basically thanks and get booped back!

[eemoo1o-animoo]

Went to the Kuro tag for the first time in forever, saw your live blogging of the book of the Atlantic, liked your takes, went to your profile, liked your takes there, followed you

Currently looking for ppl to talk about black butler with so >~>

Your blog says you got opinions about claude and Sebastian, never considered that ship before; wanna tell me about it?

*wheezy fucking WHEEZE*

Aww, got me blushing I see. (It’s also a relief to see my blog back in the tags after the fortnight long shadowban lol definitely not scarred by that).

Relatively new to the fandom (I’d say since mid-July this year but I genuinely can’t tell you for certain, but I’ve known of the anime since the day I added it to my Netflix list after over-hearing someone talk about it and then just never watched it, and so eventually it got removed from Netflix anyway so), but I finally got into it because of an amv of an awesome cover where on the original video (of the cover) people were saying they found it because of a Black Butler amv. Of course, I did the opposite, lmao.

I’m not a manga reader, although I would like to be, and I do/have spoil(ed) myself for most of the lore from the wiki and talk of the manga stuff. Just thought I’d get that out of the way.

It’s interesting how s2 isn’t apart of the manga, because it is an interesting concept (more demons), and I just think that that Sebastian deserves another demon to be petty and to twirl around with, you know?

Lmao, the “live reactions” are relatively spontaneous. I just watch something and I’m like “oh my god oh my god, so like” and on one of my posts I speculated (never reading the manga but knowing of R!Ciel) and someone commented “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened”. And I’m like “haha, well fuck me I am the messiah”.

And thanks for the follow! I really appreciated that! (Again, it’s a baby blog only made in like, early October maybe after I realised I was spamming my main with too much Kuro, so I’m always so glad that someone finds interest in it.)

Feel free to talk/ask anytime, also.

As for Claudebastian… well, for one, I try tagging my posts as concisely as I can, so for the whole “shipping timeline” I suppose you could search for #claudebastian on my profile. (Is that link working? I don’t think it is.) Or #seblaude, because they’re tagged with both.

I also do character playlists for Kuro (an incomplete list, because I couldn’t do anything during the shadowban). Plus, fanfiction. My AO3 is linked in my bio, and the majority of that pseud’s works are Claudebastian.

I suppose the main things to know about me and Claudebastian is:

I first hate-shipped Clannah(?) because I resented them both.

By episode five, Bedewed Butler, (an episode I only remember the name and number of because I had to type it out like a million times when I made a bunch of GIFs for the episode, all under #my gifs and #they’re gay your honour) I started to ship them.

I made a headcanon list regarding them so I could work past the week of writer’s block I had for my second one shot (which I’m still writing and hope to get out later today if I’m so lucky).

My first Claudebastian fic that I made is the one mentioned on top, aka. an unfinished one shot trilogy that I made before even finishing season two and labelled His Mate, Loving (The Claudebastian Collection), because I wholeheartedly expected it to be my one and only Claudebastian work.

I was wrong.

My second published work for Claudebastian (third for Kuro as a whole) is Dear Claude, something which I tried leaving as a fic with an ambiguous relationship/feelings, but it was kinda hard to write that way.

I intend on writing a platonic Grellebastian friendship fic (bit of angst, one sided Grelliam, Grelltaker as the end goal maybe, possibly, who knows) which you can probably find under #grelle fic.

That fic is currently back in action, so to speak, after I’ve watched BoA.

Which is infuriating because I hesitated to watch season three in fear of killing the Claudebastian mood (it did not, probably because of William being there lol), and same goes for Book of Murder, but then I went into Book of Atlantic so I could make GIFs for an up and coming Grelle vs The Undertaker character analysis, but came out with the inspo for Claudebastian slipping away (and after such a good week/maybe two weeks of writing little and often for that one shot).

Kind of re-contemplating the toxic Clauannah marriage (again). Fuck my life.

The theme is kind of a reference to my reactions to season two (and Claudebastian) clogging up my main and resulting in the creation of the blog. Plus I ship them.

Sorry if this doesn’t serve as much of a reply to your questions, but I tried. Feel free to ask again when you’re able!

TL;DR — I’m a rambling idiot.

[thatonesongyouretryingtoremember]

If I were a mutual who would like to befriend you, are there boundaries that come w that?

Fun thing about tumblr is that settings allow anyone to set boundaries within the app and website.

For example, I allow everyone to send me anonymous asks using the app settings because thus far I am okay with them :3

I don't really have anything against DMS, but I don't start conversations and I don't Isuzu hold them well, which is part of the next things.

Alot of my boundaries with social media are things I set for myself. Things like "I can set down my phone whenever I want if the vibes are off", etc, but also

I do not share personal details about my life. Pretty much the only things people know about me are that I'm a white queer from the USA and other shit they've gleaned from my posting about experiences as an [insert identity] person. I don't share things like the events of my day normally, because I like to compartmentalize tumblr and keep my safe persona here seperate. I can spend some time in this little pocket reality.

And I never ask those questions of other people either, because I consider it invasive to want to know more about others than they know of me, [but of course what people choose to share on their own blogs is their own choice <2] so I don't ask more than follow ups (eg. If they say their sister was cool in the orchestra I ask what instrument but that's it. Fake example btw)

Most of my mutuals are people who either I've spam reblogged until we started legit interacting and I've said based stuff about the niche I followed then for, or people who spam reblog me and like my art n shitposts.

Anyone can tag me in stuff regardless of whether we're mutuals or not. I might not always answer, but that is not personal it is part of my personal boundaries. "I only have so much energy to give to this app and website" and "I can block hashtags if I don't wanna see my mutual's blorbo who's source material I don't care about, it's my own damn dashboard" and such.

And I answer specific question anons like this pretty easily, but I have a more difficult time with statements like positivity anons.

I love positivity anons ["if you're getting this it means we appreciate you", etc] but I find it hard to answer these because they are statements and because they sometimes come with instructions on how to pass them on because they are chain anons. Both of these take more energy than I am willing to spend, but I never delete them and I always enjoy getting them <2

I post a lot about Stranger Things and miscellaneous fandoms, and I welcome interaction there. Additions that add more insight or context to a post, etc. This type of conversation is easier to maintain, is something I am comfortable with, and is typical for the website and what I do here.

Of course, I usually don't shy away from conversing with others about what they choose to discuss on their own posts, with the understanding (the hope) that they will tell me if I am overstepping. And I also can drop it off someone appears to lose interest by not adding in case that is then wanting to end the convo.

Going back to asks, I accept asks of pretty much any topic, so long as they are well-intended and something I can answer well, as well as keeping with my blog's sort of "quota" (not getting too personal, relatively "family-friendly" as they say, and these are just my personal preferences, obviously, other blogs have different things going on that fit their own valid and swag preferences)

I also get asks on my sideblog @threesongsinatrenchcoat which is a music blog or either of my sthings rp blogs.

Basically, invade my space and if I haven't blocked you or confronted you just assume you are fine /hj

I hope this answered your question :3 hopefully you are already following because I don't think you as an anon will get notified so you might not even actually see this lol.

UM notice for anyone else who wants to send me anons and find them later: they are tagged as #anons, #asks, and #song spouts bullshit, which is my personal tag.

And since we're on tagging, if it is not anonymous, I tag as the full url or as their nickname and a heart. Fake example #the-real-spiderman-official-not-fake-not-flash-thompson, #petey <2,

[crypticcodexcreations]

2022 Writer Year-In-Review

@inkspellangel tagged me for this, so let's see how 2022 writing went! I got rambly, so a read more!

Total number of completed works:

Um..... None? Oops. Really thought I was going to finish Hell's Casino when I started on it in August and then I didn't!

Total number of WIPs worked on this year:

Six, unless you count the vague concepts that all I've done is try to design characters. Then it's eight, but I don't count ones that I haven't done any writing on.

WIPs neglected this year:

That depends on the way you want to define 'neglected' because each WIP has kind of been left mostly untouched as soon as I started a new one. I've definitely gotten a little more on some of them, but honestly, all of them have been at least a little neglected except Reapers as it's my newest one.

Total word count:

I have a few things I haven't typed up, so those aren't counted, but with what I do have typed. 27,455 words.

Looking back, did you write more than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you expected?:

Oh, way more. I had stopped writing for a few years, and then just. It all came rushing back in August this year and I really didn't think I'd get very far.

Did you take any writing risks this year?:

The honest answer is probably no, but just getting back into writing at all felt like a huge risk in a way I don't know how to explain.

Do you have any goals for the new year?:

To just not stop, no matter how slow it feels.

Biggest disappointment?:

I think that would be the fact that Hell's Casino has kind of gotten buried under everything else. It's a pretty straight forward story and I'd like to get back to it. Every other WIP has so many more moving pieces so to speak.

Biggest surprise?:

Honestly? Just how much all of my stories have gotten attention. I know there are others here who get way more attention, but that doesn't really matter to me tbh. I have a nice handful of people who get super excited about what I do write, and honestly? The tags and such are so much more valuable than twice as many likes and nothing else, you know?

Most popular story of the year?:

This is hard to judge because each story has had about the same amount of interest, just from different people it feels like. I might have to give the title to Reapers though, as it's the one that caused me to actually make a tag list, because I got a request from someone to be added to it.

What's your own favourite story of the year?:

Oh, you're going to make me pick a favorite child? Honestly, it's hard to say because I love them all for different reasons. Reapers has given me the most moments of absolute giddiness writing it so far though, so I guess Reapers wins another award lol.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion:

Cross Over could use some more love to be completely honest, but I also can't say I'm super surprised. That one is just completely self indulgent shenanigans and also didn't have as much posted about it.

Most fun story to write:

That's been Only Human. While Reapers has won out on making me absolutely giddy, Only Human has made me really think a lot about where I'm going with it, and gotten me to smile a lot while also getting me both out of my comfort zone and into it at just the right moments. Out because I usually don't write such low stakes type stories, but in because it's always there with my completely queer cast of almost no humans. It's fun because some aspects have been challenging, but also a refreshing break from some of the more heavy stuff I've been writing.

Most unintentionally telling story:

I feel like this might be Only Human, just because of how much of my personality and identity William stole from me. Although, Reapers is likely a close second, but only for the parts that haven't been shared, which hardly counts I think. To be honest though, I feel like all of my stories are very telling and I'm kind of aware of this whenever I write. I see the me going into every piece, and I know that the only way to hide it would be to write something I'd hate, which I just can't do.