#OMG THIS IS SO SLYTHERIN OF HIM

[accio-victuuri]

wang yibo - evisu

Wang Yibo is circling along the way, but he is always fearless and racing upwards. He is "green" and transformed. EVISU joins hands with @UNIQ-王一博to create the new logo No. 85 "Bamboo Leaf Green Snake". It is unique because of love 🐍, and it is full speed for love! 🐍 "Bamboo Leaf Green Snake" will debut soon, so stay tuned!

[itz-mfkn-de]

\\ALL ID EVER WANT// T.N

Warnings- ANGST, (DW there’s is comfort), cussing, implied cheating, smoking, Theodore being a jerk in the beginning, ya that’s it

Summary- You thought he was the love of your life, but maybe in the end you were just young and naive.

(Plsplsplsplspls REQUEST. PLEASEEE. But anyways sorry guys I’m not good at writing angst so this is kinda shitty but I js had rlly bad brain rot abt Theo sooo enjoy.)

You sucked in a deep breath and prayed that when you spoke your voice wouldn't  crack.

"I thought—" it cracked, you quickly cleared your throat. "I thought that I might've actually meant something to you, Nott."

"Oh, amore...don't do that." He said breathlessly. He attempted to step closer to you but for  every step he took forward you took one back. He sighed at your bitterness.

"I have the right to call you whatever I want." You said fiercely.

"Why are you being like this? You've given me no explanation for your anger colomba."  He said with an almost neutral facial expression.

"Oh don't pretend to give a shit about how I feel now. I saw you with her," the venom seeped through your teeth and onto your words, burning your throat as you held back tears.

He stiffened at your words, now understanding where your anger had originated from. The blonde girl now resurfacing in his memory.

And suddenly, just as quickly as he had appeared remorseful, his facial expression hardened.

"Mm, so you did."He muttered, refraining from letting any emotion slip into his words.

You were speechless, he seemed to care more about an imaginary stain on his jacket sleeve than your heart crumbling right before his very eyes.

"So I did? Thats all you have to say? What about us? Theodore, you are my everything," you said, completely dropping the idea of hiding your vulnerability.

He seemed to wince at your words, and you could've sword you saw tears well up in his eyes when he glanced up, but he was quick to avert his gaze.

"Was your everything, Columba. Was. Not anymore." He corrected you. "I don't hold any interest in..using you...anymore principessa."

His voice sounded strained, and as hurtful as his words were, his facial expression made it look like it was hurting him more to say them.

"W—what?" You said as the tears overfilled and poured down your cheeks, "but..but you said you loved me." You said while your head slowly started to hang.

You should've listened to your friends. Everyone said not to fall for his charm, the Italian playboys flirtatious ways.

But you couldn't help yourself.

He made you feel special. He made you feel loved. He protected you and cherished the very ground you walked on, yet here he was...treating you as if you were just another body for him to throw out when he got bored.

Nothing made sense, he had spent so long reassuring you that you were his first and only love, the only one that made him feel. He opened up to you as you did him. He told you he wanted to have a family with you. Now all the sudden he was acting like this.

"I did, didn't I? Sorry for leading you on like that, didn't know you'd think I'd actually be in love with some half-blood." He nearly spat as he continued looking at the ground.

"Half-blood? This—this is about my status?" You mumbled in complete shock.

He didn't answer you as he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets,his green tie reflecting the moons brightness.

Green. Slytherin. You forgot how serious that house was about their blood status. You then recalled the first time you saw theo.

It was your second year, you were just trying to get to your next class when all of the sudden, you saw a small group of Slytherin boys surrounding a smaller ravenclaw boy.

"Filthy muggle! You shouldn't be here." Draco malfoy had spit ruthlessly at the boy. All the Slytherin boys around him were laughing and saying other horrible things to the boy. Except for one, he just stood there spaced out.

That one boy had happened to be Theodore nott.

You brought it up to him years later when you two had become friends and he said he never cared for blood status like his other peers seemed too. You had admired his different view,

Little did you know he would become just like his other peers.

You stood out in the garden, tears pouring down your cheeks and anger seething through your veins.

"Okay. Throw me away like I'm fucking nothing, tell me you hate me, tell me you want me leave and I will." You said  as the clouds above you darkened and the roared with thunder.

He looked at you. This was only the second time tonight he had made eye contact, and Everytime he did, you could've sworn you saw something under his dark cloudy eyes. But alas, you yourself were too consumed by your own feeling to see the ones he hid just beneath his rough exterior.

"I want nothing to do with you, y/n."

Your heart shattered.

The very boy who had been your first everything, your first love, your first kiss, your first. Had just told you he wanted nothing to do with you.

Without a second thought you spun on your heel and nearly jogged to the Hufflepuff dormitories.

Your heart raced as your head pounded, what had changed? When had he changed? Nothing made any sense at all.

All you could think about was how badly you wanted to just get home and cry as hard as you could.

You raced through your dorm hall, counting he doors until you reached your own.

You unlocked your dorm in one swift motion and slammed it behind you. You casted a silencing spell just as quickly as you had shut the door.

You screamed.

You screamed so loud you thought your throat was gonna give out. You slowly slid down against the wall you were leaning against as you continued to cry.

Where did you go from here? Everything you had planned for yourself included Theodore. Everything you did included him. You didn't remember a time when you didn't have him by your side at this school.

You started to piece things together, everything starting to become much clearer.

Even though you and him had been together for about six months, he insisted on not wanting to go official because of How people wouldn't approve. How he would ruin your reputation. Ha, funny to think of that now, simply for the fact that he revealed he was embarrassed of you. He didn't want you to ruin his reputation.

You cried at the realization, the screams no longer coming out.

This continued for some time, eventually you cried yourself to sleep. If you could even call it cry, at that point, there were no tears left to cry.

——

The Slytherin common room was quiet, except for the quiet fire crackling in the mere background.

But Theodore couldn't help but zone it all out.

He sat in the love seat with his legs wide open, his leg bouncing up and down quickly.

Your expression after he had crushed your heart into millions of pieces replayed in his mind for the millionth time that night.

He'd always be so quick to hurt anyone who ever made you hurt, but now that he was the one that had caused you such distress, he couldn't help but be filled with self loathe.

Then he remembered the reason. He had to do it. He had no other choice but to break your heart so you'd never love him again.

You shouldn't love a monster like him.

Especially not after his father had told him about his relation with the dark lord. His family was involved with horrible things, he was Involved with horrible things.

He always thought he deserved better, but he held too much love for you to let you go.

Then he realized what his father had been planning for him. What he had for his future.

He couldn't bring you down with him. You had so many things planned for yourself, you had a life to live. He couldn't bear to see you get dragged down by him.

You. His piccola colomba. His principessa. His mondo. He would rather stay loving you from afar than infect you with his disease. His curse.

He felt the tears welling up in his eyes as he looked at the bracelet on his wrist, the one you had the matching half too. He should've thrown in the fireplace, go ahead and get it over with.

But he could never, for it was all he had left of you and him.

His brain went over the argument again, remembering the blonde girl you had referred too.

That was the girl his father had set him up to marry, the one that he expected him too marry.

She was the ideal wife in his father’s eyes; she was pureblood, top of her class, and a fantastic wizard.

Theodore could've given two shots about any of that, because as long as she wasn't you he'd never love her. He'd never love anyone. Not like he loved you. Not like he breathed for you.

No one could replicate how you held his very existence in your gentle hands.

He let the tears slip past his cheeks, not caring anymore. He had last the one thing he wanted. The only thing he'd ever needed.

He could feel his very heart breaking as he clutched his chest and his face twisted in pain; the pain of losing his Amore.

——

Two weeks had passed since that night. The night you left your heart on the concrete out by the garden.

Your friends were so worried for you, forcing you to leave your dorm after the first three days and you still hadn't left. You were completely and utterly broken.

You forced yourself to attended school, your parents would kill you if you failed over just some boy.

Except he wasn't just some boy. He was the love of your life. He'd always hold that spot, even if he didn't want to anymore.

Everyone was just trying to get to their classes, the hallways filled to the brim with people. You numbed shoulder with a few people, offering them nothing more than a quiet "my bad."

Your shoulders hung low. You had tried your best that morning to put yourself together; you wanted to look somewhat presentable, but everyone knew something had happened. Your baggy eyes and solemn look were a clear tell tale sign of your state.

The passing period was only a short 3 minutes, but usually it felt as if you were given thirty seconds to race to your next class. This time however, it felt more like three hours.

Your feet dragged heavily behind you, your mind somewhere off in the distance.  Class seemed to fly by, the professors words muffled by your thoughts, to be more specific, your lack of thoughts.

It was clear to you, and anybody who knew you on first name basis, you were miserable.

——

"You're a fucking idiot." Pansy sat, mouth ajar and eyes wide open as she listened to Theodore nott.

"No, I'm not. I'm protecting her, I can't let myself ruin her."  He said through gritted teeth, the cigarette in his hand nearly crumbling beneath his grip.

He hadn't smoked since he'd gotten with you, you'd made sure of it. Of course he'd listen to his beautiful girl, anything to make you happy. He turned to the only thing he had without you.

"Salazar save me..Theodore. You aren't protecting shit. She's already ruined, and you did that by leaving her." She nearly spat the words, her expression nothing short of sour. "That girl loved you, she told me every chance she could get. I don't know what weird shit you got going on, but I can tell you that she is the only person who would hold your hand through it."

Theodore stared at the ground, his eyes fixated on the wooden flooring.

He knew she was right. He knew she was hurting more than he'd ever intended. He couldn't help but want to punch the wall next to him, but he decided to refrain from violence.

"I," he paused for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm so fucking stupid.., ho ferito l'unica persona che amavo veramente." He clutched his head in his hands. (I hurt the only person I truly loved.)

"Yeah. You are. " she said with little to no sympathy in her voice. "You are an idiot, an idiot who needs to fix what he fucked up."

He knew exactly what she meant, but he as unsure if you'd want to see him, unsure if you be okay with letting the man who broke your heart into your dorm.

He remembered all the horrible things he said and could barely hold back the pain that wanted to erupt into his heart. He had to make it right. He had to do it for his sweet girl. His columba. His future.

He gave pansy one last glance and then left the room with no more words exchanged between the two.

——

You sat in front of your mirror, picking at any spot that stuck out on your face.

You had just finished your nightly routine, slowly checking off each box form your nightly ritual. All except one; wallow in self pity, which happened to be your recent favorite.

Your hands stopped their ministrations on your face as you heard a knock on the door. Who'd be here at this hour?

You got up and walked to your door, trying to brainstorm on who it could be, maybe your friends asking for there homework answers, or a prefect doing room checks.

You opened the door ready to greet the person with a smile.

Your heart dropped.

Oh. It was him. Theodore was standing at your door, looking disheveled and frantic.

Your words died in your throat as you suddenly felt helpless.

"Hi." He said without breaking eye contact. You just stared at him unable to respond with confidence.

"Why are you here.?" You said with heartbreak lacing your sorrowful tone.

"I...I know I'm probably the last person you want to see," you wrapped you arms around yourself, attempting to comfort yourself. You stopped yourself from interrupting him and let him continue. "But I..just need to tell you the truth."

You stared at him with a confused expression.

"you've told me more than enough, Nott." Your words came out airy, and high pitched.

"No—no. I have not." He stated while staring into your very soul, stripping you bare.

You looked at him through your eyelashes, holding back every hateful thing you had to say.

"Come inside." You said while sighing deeply. Theodore's eyes shot open with shock, eagerly stepping inside your dorm room.

You stood by your closet door, waiting for him to continue, eyes watery and lips quivering.

"I'm— im so sorry... I thought that-that maybe if I ended things I could protect you. Maybe if I broke your heart you would hate my guts and leave." He sputtered out all his words at once while his voice shook and for the first time since you and him had gotten together, you saw Theodore Nott cry.

"Protect me? What could you possibly be protecting me from by leaving me." You wanted to hold him  and console the boy who had shown you nothing but love, but you couldn't let a few tears break you.

He sighed at your words.

"Amore, I was protecting you from me. I don't deserve you, and I can't let myself intoxicate you. You're too...perfect." He nearly whispered as he took a step closer.

"Dont do that," you said softly "don't say all that..., you told me you were just using me." Your eyes overfilled with tears, a few slipping past your cheek bones.

"I know. I know what I said , and if I could beat myself up for hurting you I would. I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving you, but I was so, so wrong." He explained through a strained voice.

You wiped your face, trying to understand what he was saying. "Theodore im confused, i have loved you ever since third year. I gave you my everything, what made you think you could've scared me off now?" You questioned with your brows furrowed.

He took a deep breath in.

"I'm not—I'm not a good person, Bambina. My family Aren't good people. They want to...hurt people and they're taking me down with them. I couldn't let them take you too, not when you mean the most anyone has ever meant to me, Bella Ragazza."

You let out a shaky sigh as your eyes grew a little wider.

It was silent for a while before you finally figured out what you wanted to say.

"First, it doesn't matter what happens, I will always love you, Theo." You looked him in the eyes with tears streaming down your face and hitting the wooden floors gently.

"Second," you closed your eyes for a moment.

"I want to forgive you so bad, I want to hug and kiss you with so much need, but....im still so hurt and confused." You mumbled while rubbing the sides of your arms.

Theodore wanted to stab himself in the heart for making you cry this much.

"I understand that, colomba. Ask me anything and I will give you nothing but the truth." He stated while taking another step towards you.

"That—that girl. You still were with that girl," you muttered "even if you were protecting me."

His eyes widened for a moment before he gained his composure.

"That was Irene, the girl my father had set me up to marry. She had approached me that day in hopes of getting to know me, and I just blew her off." He claimed.

You looked at him, trying to understand the boy you were in love with. Every time you'd thought you knew everything about him, it somehow became more clear that you didn't at all.

"You don't have to forgive me now, but I need you to know that there is no one after you. Sei e sarai il mio primo ed unico more. I will love you until my heart stops beating, and I will never forgive myself for the way I hurt you over these past few weeks." He stated through voice cracks and small hiccups.

You let a sob rip through you once again.

"I thought I was doing the right thing, but I realize now that I was being selfish. And for that I am eternally sorry." He exclaimed with a gruff voice.

You saw the tears slip past his face, the way he stood with defeat and sorrow pulsing through his body. You couldn’t watch anymore.

You took two large strides towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. He wasted no time in hugging you back, pressing his lips to your head gently.

He missed you more than he could ever explain in words, your scent alone gave him an unhealthy dose of serotonin.

“I’m so sorry.” He sniffled. You both stood there for awhile, allowing yourselves to make up for missed time.

“I’m so, so sorry, Amore.” He said while pulling you back to look in your eyes.

“I know, Theo. I know.” You reassured him with a soft caress through his curly locks.

He slowly brought his own lips to meet your own, bringing you into a hungry yet gentle kiss.

His lips danced with yours the kiss slowly becoming more than just soft pecks. A sudden surge of heat ran through your body as you slowly pushed him towards your bed.

The back of his knees hit your bed causing him to fall backwards on it, and you wasted no time in straddling him.

His hands secured your hips on his laps as he let his lips wander from your mouth. He showered your neck and collarbone in sloppy kisses.

“Theo..” you moaned out, hands making their way into his hair.

“You deserve so much better than me, colomba.” He groaned imbetween his ministrations on your neck.

You gasped as you felt his hands digging into the fat of your ass.

You then felt a wave of doubt hit you. You remembered how his parents had set him up with that girl, how the whole reason he had ended it was because of his parents; how would everything work out now, it’s not like anything had changed.

“Theodore…your father.” You mumbled as you pulled his head from your neck.

“Dont really think my father is my main issue right now,” he gave you a lopsided grin as you felt the hard on he had been trying to hide under you.

You slapped his chest playfully.

“No, I mean.. he doesn’t want us together. How is everything gonna work out if he’s the reason we couldn’t work in the first place.” You questioned doubtfully.

He looked at your with love lacing his already cloudy eyes, his large hand coming up to play with the hair in your face. He knew exactly in this moment what he was missing his entire life, why he felt so incapable of loving someone. It’s because he hadn’t met you yet.

When his mother died and he saw how little his father cared, he had thought that love wasn’t real. That it was simply just a concept, a mere after thought at most.

But you taught him the truth.

You taught him that love wasn’t just some feeling, it was a person. And for him, that person was you.

“I don’t care about what he wants y/n, because I know what I want. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I know that I want to be your one and only.” He said breathlessly,

“I know that I want you.”

[sachsoup]

how it feels to try and find a tom riddle fic without people mentioning lorenzo, mattheo, draco, theodore nott:

[wishchthumblr]

so i like to imagine its kind of like an unspoken tradition at hogwarts to carve or write your name/initials in your bed before you graduate so later students can get a little mystery trying to figure out who slept in their dorm before them

so what if in aus where Harry is sorted into slytherin, instead of JP being scratched into the post of his gryffindor dorm bed, in a slightly hidden part of the frame in his slytherin dorm bed it says R.A.B in nearly carved letters

and what if (especially if this is an au where slytherin harry is an evil little shit (as a treat)) he eventually finds another older carving on his bed that says T.M.R

[valoflunar]

Regulus is always referred to as the “little brother” by everyone in the skittles despite him being the most adult-like adult in the group Like Dorcas will gush over him over growing like 2 cm and Pandora gives a look to barty and Evan whenever they swear infront of regulus

[oi-what-the-fuck]

real

//found on pinterest

[turnin9pag3]

sirius learned to ballroom dance and james learned to golf

[jayybugg]

I NEED HIM SO BAD

Lorenzo Zurzolo, La Storia (2024)

[jaylaxies]

ENHYPEN REACTION: to you being in the rival house at Hogwarts

PAIRING: enhypen hyung line x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, slytherin!hee with gryffindor!reader, slytherin!jay with hufflepuff!reader, ravenclaw!jake with gryffindor!reader, gryffindor!sunghoon with slytherin!reader

WC: 4.7k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my loves <3 this was requested by my anonnie here and i loved writing about enha and hogwarts omg! all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Slytherin!Heeseung x Gryffindor!reader

Trope: Headboy x Headgirl

Heeseung was beyond elated when he got his letter back at the manor, stating how he had become the head boy of Hogwarts. His family of pure bloods were even prouder, however, his cocky smirk dropped the second he met with the entirety of the prefectorial board at the Hogwarts express, prefect compartment to be precise.

Seeing you standing there with the batch stating ‘head girl’ was not something he wanted to see, not when you were someone who came from a non wizarding background, someone who was in Gryffindor.

How could they make you the head girl? How could they think he’d be willing to spend his time working with you of all people. His hatred for your likes was visible from day one, his taunts and threats didn’t bother you, and that’s exactly what bothered him. The urge to make your life living hell was his motto more or less, even more so this year.

“It’s absurd, man. Let her be now, it’s our last year here for Godric’s sake,” Jay huffed out, irritated that Heeseung couldn’t shut up about the new Gryffindor quidditch captain giving you too much attention despite your blood status.

“It doesn’t fucking matter, why do people like her anyway? What happened to keeping the muggles away from the likes of us?” He gritted his teeth, accidentally stabbing the piece of chicken too hard with his fork at dinner. The sight of you snuggling close to the said captain infuriated him more than he let on.

“Well, she’s not a muggle if she can do magic, and extraordinarily well at that,” Jay offered, having done with Heeseung being a dimwit and not realizing the truth behind his anger.

“Wow, thanks for the support, mate,” Heeseung rolled his eyes, looking back at you again.

He’d make sure to wipe that smile off of your face while taking rounds later—at least that’s what he promised himself. Taking rounds was probably the time he looked forward to the most, given that it was the perfect time to criticize and show hatred towards you.

However, the second you meet up at the staircase, telling him to divide areas since you do not wish to work with him anymore, he loses it. He completely loses it, scoffing and grabbing your wrist, pulling you into the room of requirement right behind you.

“What the fuck—” you tried to scream, but he was quick to cover your mouth with his hand.

“What? Can’t even look my way now that you have a quidditch captain chasing you around?” He scoffs, eyes full of hatred, the kind you had never seen before and it made you scoff.

“Well, newsflash, Lee. I never wanted to look your way from the very start. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s you who’s clearly obsessed with me,” you seethed out, not caring about the proximity despite your breathing getting heavier.

“Ah? Me obsessed with the likes of you? Don’t flatter yourself, darling,” he said, tone almost challenging, his hold on your wrist tight, just like the hand that was grabbing your waist now, making you gulp but not back down.

“So, it shouldn’t matter to you if I snog my quidditch captain, or more,” you whispered with a smug smile, feeling his hand squeezing your waist tighter.

“You cannot do that,” he warned.

“Oh but I did—”

You couldn’t finish your statement and nor could Heeseung control his actions anymore, pressing you up against the wall and shoving his tongue down your throat, kissing you in the messiest way he could muster to mush out all the sane thoughts coming his way.

This was the sanest he had felt in ages.

“You’re fucking mine,” he groaned against your lips.

“No, fuck I’m not,” you smirked, testing him further, loving how he had finally given in to the truth—that he wanted you.

The room of requirement was sly, preparing a bed as he pushed you on it, getting on top of you while getting rid of his robes, “oh, babe, I’ll show you who you belong to.”

“Took you way too long, Lee,” you chuckled, gasping the second he pushed your panties aside, feeling your wetness on his fingers with a smirk.

“Been waiting, eh?” He asked, cocky as he pushed two fingers in with ease, your back arching as you moaned.

“Talk about yourself,” you smirked, pulling him into another rough kiss, messy of all sorts as he sucked on your tongue, pumping his own cock by lubricating it with your wetness.

He wasted no time, in aligning himself to your entrance, pushing his cock in one go to bottom out, groaning at the tightness that squeezed him, thrusting almost instantly when he saw nothing but pleasure on your face with a promise to claim you his.

“Fuck, I knew you’d make a perfect whore, always so desperate for my attention,” he groaned, snapping his hips to yours, the noise resonating the room.

“You can’t even thrust properly, ah—” he sped up to shut your mouth, your toes curling as you held on to him for support, chanting his name like a mantra the whole time as he proved just how much and how well he can fuck you.

All night.

Slytherin!Jay x Hufflepuff!reader

Trope: Animagi Jay

It took him a lot of patience.

In fact, it took everyone in his friend group a lot of patience to keep their mouths shut for a whole month, a single mandrake leaf resting in their mouths. However, they wanted to do something iconic, which would be—turning into an animagus to cause trouble whilst being unregistered at that. The whole process was tedious.

Jay was losing his last bit of sanity, watching you smiling softly and being kind to others, which was a usual thing per se.

The only problem was how he couldn’t verbally bother you.

It was known to be his favourite pastime, inserting himself in your life and bothering you for existing.

Why? Because that’s what he should do, being a slytherin. He had a personality he needed to live up to, and he knew hell would break if anyone as much as gets a hint about Jay’s infatuation with you.

The solution? To make sure he says the meanest things so he wouldn’t have to see your smile. You don’t get why he’s mean to you. His hatred goes as far as it concerns you, and you’ve never seen him calling anyone else names but you.

So, seeing you being happy and not once thinking about him since he put the leaf in his mouth had his blood boiling, especially when you agreed to attend Slughorn’s party with a random ravenclaw boy. The same party he was gonna ask you to attend with him—or bully you into attending with him, but the smile on your face gets him mad.

He scoffed, ignoring the whole situation and focusing on the transformation process, completely missing the look of sadness on your face when he left without even acknowledging your presence, his mind deep in different thoughts.

Of course you’d be happy without him.

However, the success in becoming an animagi had him smiling. He was a big black cat—a royal panther, while his other friends turned into a bird and a dog.

He went out to explore the place in his animal form, getting out of Hogwarts castle to visit the black lake, not once thinking that he would find you here at night.

Your back looked peaceful as you stared at the lake, and he was silent as he made his way towards you, almost scaring you the second you saw a black panther settling down next to you, a gasp leaving your mouth as your eyes shined under the moonlight.

“Hi, I’ve never seen you around before,” you spoke up, fascinated, extending your hand to stroke his fur.

Jay didn’t expect this, and he knew he didn’t have to pretend in this form, making him purr with pleasure as you gently caressed him. He was a cat after all. The warmth of your kindness was driving him crazy, he so desperately wanted you to like him back, but he knew you wouldn’t.

It became a routine for him to sneak out to meet you at night in his animal form, and he adored how you shared all your secrets with an animal, talking to him, letting him rest his head on your lap and as far as kissing his head in adoration.

He was in love with you.

He loved how you welcomed him with a pretty smile, the same smile which he wipes off your face in his human form.

Everything was going smoothly, to the point Jay had even started staring at you between classes, not being as rude as he used to be before and you never hesitated on smiling back at him, ever so kind. He wanted to talk to you, face to face, and confess.

However, that plan went down the drain. The same Ravenclaw boy was seen standing close to you, a conjured flower in his hand which he presented to you with a wide smile while Jay watched it unfold with the nastiest scowl on his face.

So being petty, Jay practically shoved you out of the way, not looking back even after hearing a little “ouch” coming from your direction as you stumbled, ignoring when you called out his name, rather proceeding to the next class.

He didn’t see you there, and he tried not to act affected by your absence, assuming that you’d have gone with the other guy, relaxing when he saw you in potions class again, his eyes never leaving your face which looked distressed. Especially after you took a sniff of the amortentia, the love potion.

His heart lurched, wondering if you smelled the other guy. And in his case, he knew he was doomed the second he took a sniff and instantly smelled of your body lotion and your favourite delicacy. His eyes met yours that very second and he had to gulp, looking elsewhere to pretend that he was fine.

That night, with a heavy heart, he sat down next to you in his animagi form yet again, this time he found you at the astronomy tower, a bandage around your arm.

“Hey, love,” you welcomed the black panther, “it’s such a pretty night,” you sighed dreamily, petting the panther next to you.

“You mind if I talk?” You asked, chuckling when the panther nodded as if he understood what you meant, “I don’t understand boys. I really like this guy but he’s been mean to me to see. It’s pathetic, isn’t it? That I smelled him in the love potion and he’s the reason why I stumbled and hurt my arm—I just can’t help it, I wish Jay would like me back but he doesn’t even look my way without wanting to look away or just comment about how I’m just a weak Hufflepuff girl,” you mumbled, not focusing on how the panther had stood up all of a sudden.

Jay’s heart thumped, he wasn’t sure if he heard it right, but it was too much, he couldn’t wait anymore.

He transformed back into his human form right there, your eyes widening as you opened your mouth to scream, which he put a hand over to muffle your voices.

“That—that was you!” You whisper-yelled, shoving him away.

“Did you mean it?” He asked, grabbing your wrist which made you lean against the wall, “that you like me?”

You could barely breathe, biting your lip as you nodded, “I know you hate me—”

“Oh, you know nothing, baby,” he chuckled, grabbing your nape and pulling you into a kiss, making your eyes widen before he pulled you even closer, making you kiss him back eventually, getting fervent with your actions.

“Fuck, I like you so much. It was you who I smelled, in the love potion, I mean. I’m sorry for being an asshole, I never knew how to handle feeling this way for you,” he apologized, cutting the kiss and leaning his forehead against yours.

Instead of replying, you pulled him into another kiss, letting his hands wander all over your body, his self control leaving his body. He knew he had you now, and he knew he wouldn’t be letting go, especially after the little whimpers leaving your mouth the second he started kissing your neck after leaving your lips all swollen.

You were too sensitive, too forgiving.

Rubbing your thighs together didn’t help either, but the second he squeezed your bare thigh, you knew you were gone. It was the ideal place for you both to be doing this, but stopping wasn’t an option, not when he was so passionately marking you just after you told him you rejected the other boy.

Spreading your legs was easy, asking you to be a good girl and keep your voices at bay was even easier for Jay, and you obliged, your eyes rolling back as he lapped at your cunt, licking big stripes while fucking your cunt with his fingers, trying to be gentle but you were too pent up to ask him to go slower, only urging him to move faster.

That’s how you spent your night, he took you to his chamber, kicking everyone out shamelessly to fuck you into the mattress, his cock not having enough of you and your pussy clenching him, trying to hold him in for as long as you could before you both reached your high.

He knew he fucked up before but now that he actually had you in his arms, he knew he was going to cherish you forever.

Ravenclaw!Jake x Gryffindor!reader

Trope: Yule ball, fake dating

Jake was loved by everyone and he basked in the warmth of it. Being good in academics came naturally to him, he was a Ravenclaw after all. Adding to it, he was selected to represent Hogwarts at the triwizard championship, his fame and name more glorious than ever these days.

The problem? He had everyone’s attention but the girl who he claimed to have a tiny crush on.

He wanted to ask her to be his date for the Yule ball, however, the chances were slim as another Gryffindor boy named Heeseung, asked her right before Jake could even call out her name.

Jake wasn’t the only one suffering. You stood there beside him, watching the scene unfold with the same wrath in your eyes.

You wanted to go to the ball with Heeseung.

“Tough luck?” Jake asked, not sparing you a glance as you both watched him from a distance as they hugged gleefully.

“Talk about yourself, champ,” you crossed your arms, “she didn’t even think twice before saying yes,” you commented, jaw clenching, “she’s gonna get her heart broken, he’s gonna turn her into a situationship too.”

“What? We have to warn her,” Jake spoke, eyes widening.

“Oh, I tried, but she actually really likes Heeseung,” you huffed, “and here I thought I meant something to him.”

“Go with me,” Jake breathed out, finally looking your way, taking your beauty in.

“What?” You exclaimed, turning your head to look his way too.

He was beautiful, there’s no denying him. His hair was a bit on the messier side, lips pink and swollen from biting (he was nervous), and eyes full of hope.

“To make Heeseung jealous, of course!” He defended his statement and your eyes widened in understanding.

“Oh,” you let out, “so we’re doing all this fake dating thing, now?” You teased him, loving how his cheeks got redder but he only stepped closer, shrugging.

“We’ll have fun, you’ll get to be with the triwizard champion, it’s a win-win for you,” he offered, smirking and you smiled humorously.

“Sure,” you agreed, not paying attention to Heeseung who witnessed this interaction of yours.

It was easy to keep up with him, the rumours of you two being together spread like wildfire, especially with the Yule ball coming up, which only favoured you, granted that Heeseung had tried to approach you several times but Jake hadn’t left your side at all.

In fact, you were scared how easy it was to be in his company, “she wanted me to teach her how to ride the broom,” Jake had told you once, and he was one heck of a flyer, despite him not being in the team.

Naturally, you offered him to teach you that instead, watching how his eyes lit up and he nodded. Something about Jake was endearing to you—like how he helped you ride the broom with him sitting behind you. It felt real, too romantic the way he held on to you, smiling as he pointed out the various spots you could see from the height.

And you knew he felt it too, his heart pumping out of his chest as you rested your back against him.

It felt too real to him when you got him a tie that matched the colour of your dress, asking him to match with you, and he realized he had stopped thinking about the other girl completely as he helped you around with studies and you helped him feel alive.

Somewhere along the lines, you had forgotten that it was all fake, simply because it felt real to the both of you. The hand holding, the snuggling closer, the soft smiles on your faces, none of it was fake.

It didn’t hit you till you were on your way to meet Jake, only to find the other girl already talking to him in a corner, your jaw clenched at the sight of them talking about something you couldn’t make out from this distance. Your mind wasn’t sane as you stepped back and rushed to your own room, wondering if they had gotten together.

You knew it could very well be a misunderstanding, yet you didn’t do anything about it, especially when Jake didn’t come to meet you at all today.

You were slightly heartbroken as you woke up the next day, everyone seemed happy to the point they couldn’t stop talking about the Yule ball tonight, doing their hair and skincare already and you tried to join them, knowing that you can’t run away from it no matter what the situation would be.

Now, clad in your gown, you most certainly did feel better, looking in the mirror to find the prettiest version of yourself, you felt beautiful as you walked down the stairs, smiling gently when you found Jake waiting for you by the stairs.

His breathing hitched the second he saw you, eyes twinkling as he took you in, heart beating faster when you stood in front of him. It was magical how he took your hand, kissing your knuckles gently, “you look beautiful,” he whispered, your face heating up at the compliment.

So, you postponed asking him about the other girl, focusing solely on him as you were called for the first dance with Jake—the Hogwarts champion. He treated you well, he looked like the prettiest man alive, pulling you closer and dancing with you like he meant it when the rock band came out, but after a while, you stopped, pulling him out when he got you drinks to talk by some secluded area—a classroom nearby.

“I saw you guys talking,” you told him, admitting how you would be okay if he leaves you now and he how doesn’t need to put up this act anymore, making his heart lurch, “fuck—no! I asked her to stay away because,” he gulped as he met your eyes, “because I like you, not her.”

Everything felt rushed after, his lips on yours, your fingers in his hair, bodies pressed against one another as he messed up your lipstick, “I like you so much,” he kept mumbling between the kisses, lips trailing down to mark your neck.

He knew what he had to do—kiss every inch of you till you understood the depth of his words. He wants you so genuinely it makes your heart beat faster, his eyes full of earnestness as he comes up to kiss you again, but more than that, he wants to taste you, give you the pleasure you deserve.

Getting down on his knees was easy for him, getting under your gown even easier. You breathed in deeply when you felt him burying his nose in your pussy, pushing your panties aside to lick a stripe of your cunt, leaving a small kiss on your clit right after.

His movements were slow and calm, his hold on your thighs tight as he devoured you, seeming as if he’d be hungry for ages. You could have sworn you never felt this way before, gripping the table you were leaning against tightly, you tried your best not to fall down with how your knees were getting weaker by the second as his tongue was pushing around much faster than before.

“Jake—” you gasped, seeing stars as you finally came undone, your whole body felt as if it was on fire but Jake was just getting started with you.

Getting out, he looked more disheveled than ever, taking your hand and making you feel his hardened cock, “see what you do to me, baby,” he whispered, pulling you into another kiss, unzipping your dress as you cried about how much you need him.

Soon, your dress was on the ground and his body was connected with yours in a slow rhythm, full of lazy kisses and smiles, your face hidden in his neck as you bit him to conceal your moans when he hit that one spot which had your whole body weak.

You looked so beautiful, it made him lose his control, the sight itself had him twitching with the need to fill you up.

When you kissed him again, he finally let go, loving each second of it, knowing that you were truly his now.

Gryffindor!Sunghoon x Slytherin!reader

Trope: quidditch players, enemies to fwb

“Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!”

“Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!”

The chants were loud, the crowd going wild at the sight of you and Sunghoon circling around each other before the game—something you always did as a challenge. It most certainly didn’t help that you were on par with each other, both chasers for your respective houses.

Watching you guys bicker was something everyone enjoyed, especially when it was about your houses and their reputations.

“You better watch out, Park,” you smirked, taking your position, “Slytherin is taking the win today,” you sang, watching his smirk grow.

“In your dreams, darling,” he whispered, winking at your right as the whistle blew.

The chants were loud and so was your motivation as you grabbed the Quaffle, successfully throwing it in one of the hoops as the crowd cheered. Watching Sunghoon scowl was a sweet treat, especially when you winked at him, passing by with the quaffle again.

The game continued for a while, your house leading by thirty points, much to Sunghoon’s dismay. You were having more fun teasing him rather than playing the actual game.

However, the second the snitch was caught by your seeker, Sunghoon got hit by a bludger, falling off his broom. You should have been celebrating his downfall (pun intended) yet you couldn’t help but worry, eyeing his figure while your team celebrated their win.

It was out of character for you to visit him in the hospital wing, but you did it, showing up with the pudding he liked—and you had no clue why you knew it. He was surprised to see it, looking away with a scoff, “why are you here, huh? To boast about your win?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes, “I came here to see if you were doing well but seeing as you can still work that mouth of yours, I’ll just assume it’s alright,” you huffed, leaving the pudding behind. Sunghoon gulped, watching you leave the hospital wing with a huff before eyeing the pudding and eating it, a sudden warmth spreading in his chest.

The bickering worsened since that day, because you had to overcome the fact that you showed care to him, your friends telling you to fuck the sexual tension out—which you won’t do even in your wildest dreams.

Sunghoon was just as furious cause he couldn’t stop thinking about you showing up at the hospital wing just to visit him, his taunts and that smirk annoying you more than ever now, you just wanted to punch him, or shut him up. It didn’t help that he looked awfully attractive with that smirk of his.

Fighting even during the dinner time was getting on everyone’s nerves, to the point you had to go to detention for pulling pranks on each other.

To diffuse this tension, he met you before the next quidditch match you had against him, “oh, ready to have your ass beat, Park?” You asked him with a mock smile.

“We’ll see who gets their ass beat, darling,” he spoke, invading your personal space by whispering in your ear, “let’s make a bet, if I win then I get to fuck you tonight.”

“What the fuck, Park?” You asked, eyes widened.

“You want it too, baby.” He says, a lazy smirk playing on his face, “besides, I won’t bother you ever again if I lose. So, do we have a deal?”

The deal was too tempting, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the fact that you’ll, (1) either be ignored by him or (2) have sex with him.

You grabbed his hand, shaking it with no aim whatsoever, you felt too lost but also determined to put up a good game.

However your mind was busy imagining his lips on yours, the smirk still present on his face, and that’s how you barely put the Quaffle in through the hoops while Sunghoon played with more energy than ever, awfully determined to win the match—win you.

The verdict? He won.

And as lost as you felt, you weren’t sad about it, in fact you were staring at Hoon who was celebrating, his eyes still on yours with that stupid smirk on his face which clearly said: you’re mine for the night.

Being in his room was crazy, the fact that he had successfully pushed out all his roomies was even crazier.

“Not fighting back anymore, kitten?” He raised his brows, his features looking sharper up close now that he had you under him, his weight on you barely giving you any space to move, his scent only driving you crazier.

“You’re the one who gave up, Park,” you finally whispered, pulling him closer by the collar with your usual expression full of mock, your finger tracing his jawline, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “you proposed the idea of fucking me—been thinking about me then?”

His fingers traced the curve of your neck, trailing down till he settled on grabbing your waist, “what if I have? What if I wanna see you shut the fuck up when I make you cry on my cock?”

“I’d like to see you try,” you chuckled, pushing your knee up to caress against his crotch, making him hiss.

It didn’t take him any longer to practically rip off your robes, attaching his mouth to your nipples, flicking them with his tongue as he cupped your cunt as a warning to shut your mouth, but you couldn’t let him win, opening your mouth to mock him again, only to have his tongue shoved down your throat, his fingers kneading your flesh, rubbing your wetness with all his strength to have you whimpering under him.

“I hate you so much, Park,” you mumbled, breathless.

“Feeling’s mutual, kitten,” he groaned right beside your ear, finger fucking you now as his thumb worked your clit roughly, yet giving you the kind of pleasure you never thought you’d receive.

You feel hot as the guy you hate makes you moan uncontrollably, stopping right before you were about to reach your high with his same stupidly attractive smirk when you whined out of desperation.

“What’s the hurry, kitten? We’ve got all night.”

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt.10

Word Count: 22.3k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, possession, forced pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, tw if u have tokophobia, extortion, threats, manipulation, pet names like, kitten, sweetie, honey, Xavier appears, tw vomiting, arguing, blood and gore, nausea, Zayne appears ;)

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel, @emidpsandia , @angel-jupiter, @hwangintakswifey, @webmvie, @housesortinghat, @fading-twinkle, @shoruio, @gojos1ut, @solomonlover, @cheesenjam, @elegantnightblaze, @mavphorias, @babylavendersblog, @burntoutfrogacademic, @sinstae, @certainduckanchor, @ladyackermanisdead, @sh4nn, @milkandstarlight, @lilyadora, @depressedwhore, @nyumin, @kiwookse

AN: Hi all! This is of course on A03! I pulled some all nighters to get this chapter done and then procrastinated doing the editing process LOL. Either way, its here and I guess thats all that matters ^0^. Also, the taglist has gotten SO long omg. Ty all to my frequent readers and commenters, I love reading your comments and theories in the comments and asks! I am forever grateful to have cultivated a follwing of 1,156 people who love my writing! Mwah! Enjoy! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱𖹭

“I know this is hard for you,” Sylus began, his voice quieter than you expected, softer. “But do you really plan to just avoid me the whole time? I’m the father of the baby, honey. You should at least try and talk to me about how you’re feeling. You aren't alone in all this.” “I…” Your voice trembled as you tried to find the words, your chest tight with the weight of it all. “You…you weren’t supposed to be the father of my baby, Sylus.”

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

The room was silent, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing beside him. You lay curled up on the bed, fragile and exhausted, your cheeks still damp from the tears you had shed throughout the day. Sylus sat beside you, watching you in the dim light. His eyes followed the gentle rise and fall of your chest, but it wasn't the sight of your slumber that held his focus. It was the way your body seemed to shrink from him, even in sleep, as if rejecting his presence.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, the weight of your distance sinking deep into his chest. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He never imagined it would hurt this much—to see you so broken, to feel your body, your spirit, pulling away from him when he had only wanted to draw you closer.

Sylus reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. He traced the path of your dried tears with a gentleness that felt foreign on his skin, his thumb grazing the soft skin beneath your eye. You stirred slightly, a soft shiver running through your body at his touch, and even in your sleep, you wanted away from him. His hand froze mid-motion, the rejection clear even in your unconscious state. His heart clenched, and he pulled his hand back, letting out a long, weary breath.

He had spent the last two weeks watching you drift further away. It pained him, more than he was willing to admit, to see you like this—crying through the days, avoiding his gaze, barely speaking to him. You ate in silence, not a word passing your lips as you forced down meals, your once-feisty but still lively spirit dulled to a muted shell. The life inside you should have been something that brought you together, a bond to strengthen what he so desperately craved. But instead, it felt like you were slipping further and further from him, and it was tearing him apart.

Sylus’s gaze lowered to your stomach, hidden beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown. He stared at the slight curve, though it was still too early to truly show. His breath caught in his throat as he reached out, hesitating just before his hand hovered above your belly. Carefully, as though not to disturb you, he rested his palm against it. It was warm, and moved with your every breath. Flat still, of course—but the thought of what was growing inside sent a thrill through him.

What would you look like fully pregnant?

The image consumed him. The idea of your body changing—transforming—to nurture the life he had placed inside you. Your stomach rounding, your breasts swelling with the promise of nourishing the child. His child. His fingers trembled slightly as he imagined it—how your body would evolve, the way you would look heavy with his creation.

It excited him in ways he hadn’t expected. His pulse quickened, and he swallowed hard, his thumb brushing the fabric that covered your skin. This was the future he had longed for—the one thing he had wanted since he laid eyes on you. You, having his baby, bound to him forever. A leash you couldn't remove. And yet, you fought it. You fought him.

A shadow passed over his expression as he thought of the lengths he’d had to go to. The way he’d had to threaten Xavier’s life, knowing it would crush you. He hadn’t wanted to make you afraid, not really—but he couldn’t take any chances. He couldn’t risk you doing anything to harm the baby. Not when he was this close to having everything he had ever wanted.

His grip on your belly tightened ever so slightly, though he was careful not to wake you. The life growing inside you was his dream made real, and he wouldn't let anything—or anyone—jeopardize that. Not even you. He would make you see, one way or another, that this child was a gift. His gift to you.

A quiet, frustrated sigh left his lips as he leaned closer, his voice a low whisper in the dimness of the room. "You'll understand one day. I’m doing this for us. For our family." His words hung heavy in the air, almost as if he were trying to convince himself as much as you.

You stirred again, but you didn’t wake. Your body curled tighter, seeking distance from him once again. Sylus stared at you for a moment longer, his fingers brushing lightly over the flatness of your abdomen, already imagining the swell that would come in the months ahead. A dark stir of pleasure swelled in his chest and made his way to his groin.

Soon, you would change. Soon, you would be perfect. Even more perfect than you already were.

He just needed to fix this. To make you understand. Then everything would be as it should be.

His gaze drifted upward again, lingering on your face, and this time, his eyes fell on your lips. Soft, slightly parted in sleep, they looked so delicate, so inviting. He had always been drawn to you—your beauty, your strength—but there was something about this moment, seeing you so still, so vulnerable, that stirred something deeper in him. His heart thudded in his chest as his eyes traced the gentle curve of your lips, and a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to be inside your warm walls washed over him.

You had been very sick these past few weeks, and he was very patient in giving you space, careful not to touch you in unwanted places. He knew better than anyone that you didn't feel well enough to even leave the bed some days, much less have sex with him.

He leaned in slightly, his breath catching as he watched your lips, his pulse quickening in his veins. How easy it would be to close the distance, to press his mouth to yours. To claim you, even in your sleep, as though his touch might erase the space you had been placing between the two of you for the past two weeks. His hand twitched at his side, the thought of you squirming under him, softly sleeping while he entered into you sending another thrill down his spine, dark and possessive.

For a moment, his face hovered just above yours, his breath mingling with yours in the dim light. His lips were so close—just a whisper away from touching yours. The heat of his desire pulsed through him, urging him forward, every fiber of his being drawn to you. But as he stared at your peaceful expression, something stopped him. A flicker of hesitation flashed through his mind.

Even in this moment, even with you asleep and unguarded, he could feel the tension between you. The way your body had instinctively recoiled from his touch earlier, the way you had shivered beneath his fingers. You weren’t inviting him in. You weren’t his—not yet, not completely. Even if he claimed you physically, your heart would still belong to another. His child was growing inside you, your body was changing because of him, and yet…your heart was still distant. Still locked away, belonging to someone else.

It hurt. It fucking hurt.

His jaw clenched, frustration simmering beneath the surface, but he forced himself to pull back, his heart still pounding with the lingering heat of the almost-kiss. He exhaled sharply before he shifted back, denying himself the satisfaction.

Xavier.

The name flickered through his mind like an unwanted intruder, making his jaw tighten. Even after everything, even as you lay beside him, carrying his child, there was still a part of you that loved Xavier. He hated that thought. It festered inside him, gnawing at his control. He had done what was necessary—hadn’t he? He’d kept you safe, made sure nothing would happen to jeopardize the future they were building. But your heart...your loyalty...that still belonged to another man.

His gaze darkened for a moment as he stared down at you, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. But then, he forced himself to breathe, to calm the storm brewing inside him. He couldn’t think about that now. It didn’t matter. Not yet.

Sylus exhaled sharply, forcing the tension from his shoulders as he reached for his phone. His fingers slid across the screen, and he checked the time. 6:54 a.m. The time felt irrelevant here. In the N109 Zone, the sun never rose, the darkness an ever-present veil that clung to every moment. Morning and night were nothing but markers on a clock. Still, you’d wake soon, the same way you always did. The brief moments of sleep you allowed yourself would end, and the silence between you would stretch on once more.

He sighed, scrolling through his contacts. There were preparations to make. The doctor. The ultrasound. He would have the specialist come here, to their safe little world, where you had nowhere to run. It would happen next week. That’s when everything would become undeniable. He’d set everything in motion today—make the calls, confirm the appointments. You wouldn’t be able to deny it any longer when the doctor showed you the baby, when you heard its heartbeat.

Our child.

He slipped the phone back onto the table, the faint light from the screen casting eerie shadows across the room before fading back into darkness. His gaze shifted once more to your sleeping form, your breath slow and even, your body curled up beneath the blankets. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Even in the darkness, you looked beautiful like this, fragile, vulnerable, but still strong.

It’s fine, he told himself as he watched you. You just need to be affirmed that this is real.

Once you saw the baby, once you felt it growing inside of you, the doubt would fade. You wouldn’t be able to escape the truth anymore. You’d have to accept that the future was already here—growing inside your body. A future that bound you to him forever.

Sylus leaned back against the headboard, his hand resting idly on the sheets beside you, the excitement stirring in his chest once again. He could wait. He would be patient. Everything was falling into place, just as it should.

Next week, everything would change.

Sylus had barely drifted off when the soft groan from your side of the bed pulled him back to consciousness. His eyes snapped open, and the familiar darkness of the room greeted him, heavy and oppressive but oddly comforting. He blinked once, twice, shaking off the haze of exhaustion. But that groan—it lingered in the air, filled with a quiet distress that sent a sharp pang of worry through his chest.

He turned his head just in time to see you kick the covers off with a desperation that tightened something deep within him. You were restless again, and he could see the fatigue in the way your movements were frantic, almost disoriented. Sylus watched you for a moment, his mind sluggish from the sleepless night he'd spent keeping vigil beside you, but concern sharpened his focus as you stumbled out of bed, making a beeline for the bathroom.

“Honey?” His voice was rough, hoarse from lack of sleep, and tinged with a worry he couldn’t fully mask. He pushed himself up quickly, his body protesting the movement, muscles stiff from having spent the night tense and alert. But you were already halfway to the bathroom, ignoring him entirely. You disappeared into the bathroom without so much as a backward glance.

Sylus sat there for a moment, staring at the entrance, a wave of frustration flickering to life alongside the worry. He had tried—really tried—to help, to stay by your side, to make this easier for you. But it never seemed to matter. Every day for the past two weeks, you had pulled further and further away, as if he were the source of your pain instead of the person trying to alleviate it.

His jaw tightened as the sounds of retching echoed through the thin walls of the bathroom. He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing his face in a futile attempt to shake off the exhaustion weighing him down. You hadn't acknowledged him, hadn’t even answered when he called out to you. The knot in his chest tightened, the frustration quickly morphing into something more painful.

It’s the pregnancy, he told himself, trying to push away the darker thoughts that gnawed at the back of his mind. The nausea, the sickness—it was all part of it. Part of the process of carrying his child. A necessary sacrifice. But even as he reassured himself, the fear lingered. What if it wasn’t just the physical toll of pregnancy pushing you away? What if it was something deeper? Something that ran far beneath the surface, something he couldn’t fix?

He shook the thought away, unwilling to face the possibility, and made his way to the bathroom. His footsteps were hesitant as he approached the entrance, the muffled sounds of your retching growing louder. His hand hovered near the handle, uncertainty freezing him in place. Should he go in? Should he give you space? Every instinct screamed for him to be near you, to help, but every time he got close, you pulled away. Recoiled. As if his presence was suffocating.

The sound of you heaving again shattered his hesitation. Sylus stepped in cautiously, emerging into the dimly lit bathroom. The sight of you, hunched over the toilet, your body trembling from the force of vomiting, made something inside him twist painfully. You looked so fragile, so small, and for a moment, all he could do was stand there, helpless. The air was thick with the sharp tang of bile, and each sound of your labored breathing felt like a punch to his chest.

He wanted to help. But he knew, deep down, that if he touched you, you would pull away. Just like you had every time he tried to get close lately.

Still, the sight of you in pain made him push forward. He couldn’t just stand there. He knelt down beside you, the cold tile biting into his knees as he watched your body convulse with another wave of nausea. His hand hovered uncertainly near your back, his fingers twitching with the urge to comfort you. He wanted to smooth your hair back, to tell you it would be okay, but he hesitated. You had flinched at his touch so many times before, and the sting of it was something he wasn’t sure he could bear again.

But you looked so worn, so utterly defeated, that he decided to risk it. Slowly, gently, he rested his hand on your back, hoping the touch would bring you some semblance of comfort. But just as he feared, you jerked away from him almost immediately, your body tensing under his hand as if his touch burned.

The rejection hit him harder than it should have, the familiar sting of it settling deep in his chest. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain calm. He couldn’t show weakness. Not now.

“My kitten’s got claws this morning, hm?” he tried, his voice soft, laced with an attempt at humor. He was hoping to spark a reaction, hoping for the sharp retort that had once been so typical of you. But the silence that followed felt heavy, oppressive. You didn’t respond. You didn’t even look at him.

You just sat there, your body slumped, your eyes distant. It was worse than anger. Worse than the fire that once flared between you. This was something far more dangerous. This was resignation.

“Sylus…” Your voice was a whisper, so faint he almost missed it. But the sound of his name coming from you sent a jolt through him. He leaned in closer to hear you better, his heart pounding.

"What is it sweetie?"

“What’s the point in making me eat if I’m just going to throw it all up anyway?”

The words hit him like a blow, the quiet defeat in your voice making his breath catch. He didn’t know how to answer. The logical part of him knew the answer—you needed to eat for the baby, for the life growing inside you. But hearing you say it like that, hearing the hopelessness in your tone, made him falter.

He swallowed hard, forcing a smile onto his lips, though it felt hollow. “Kitten,” he murmured, trying to keep his voice gentle, “you need to eat. The baby needs you to eat, even if it comes back up. It’s better than nothing.”

He hoped—hoped—that mentioning the baby would remind you of what mattered. That it would pull you out of this darkness and make you see the bigger picture. But the look in your eyes told him it wasn’t enough. You weren’t angry. You weren’t fighting. You were just…tired. And that scared him more than anything.

Sylus hesitated, his hand hovering near your back again, but this time he didn’t touch you. He didn’t want to risk pushing you further away. Not when you were already so far gone.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered, though the words felt like a desperate plea more than a reassurance. “I’m right here.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, stretching out between the two of you like an unbridgeable chasm. He watched you, waiting for some sign, some flicker of the fire that once burned so brightly in you. But all you gave him was a soft sigh, a sound so quiet and filled with exhaustion that it twisted something inside him.

And then, to his surprise, you reached out.

Your hand, trembling slightly, extended toward him, palm open and waiting. Sylus stared at it, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn’t much—a small gesture—but to him, it felt monumental. You were asking for his help. Willingly. His heart skipped a beat, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. Maybe this was a turning point. Maybe you were starting to see that he was on your side, that he wasn’t the enemy.

He took your hand gently, his grip firm but careful, afraid that if he held on too tightly, you would slip away again. The warmth of your skin against his sent a wave of relief through him, and for a brief moment, everything felt right again.

But the moment was fleeting.

As soon as he helped you up from the cold bathroom floor, you pulled your hand away, retreating into yourself once more. Without a word, you turned your back on him and walked away, distancing yourself both physically and emotionally. The connection that had sparked between you was gone, snuffed out before it had even fully formed.

Sylus’s hand hung in the air for a moment, his fingers still tingling from the brief contact, but the weight of your rejection settled heavily on his shoulders. His arm dropped to his side, the frustration bubbling up again, though he forced himself to swallow it. He watched you march back to the bedroom, your back rigid, as if you were desperate to much distance between the two of you as possible.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. You were drifting away from him, piece by piece, and no matter how hard he tried to pull you back, it never seemed to be enough.

But he couldn’t push you. Not now. Not when you were carrying his child. He had to give you space. He had to be patient. He couldn't risk stressing you out.

Turning toward the window, Sylus stared out into the never-ending darkness of the N109 Zone. The preparations for next week’s ultrasound weighed heavily on his mind. The doctor’s visit would change things. It had to. Once you saw the baby, once you heard the heartbeat, everything would be different. You would see that this wasn’t something to be afraid of. You would understand what he was trying to give you—a future. A family.

For now, he would give you the space you seemed to need. But soon, the reality of the baby growing inside you would become undeniable.

And then, maybe… just maybe, you’d come back to him.

Sylus’s fingers tapped idly against the glass of his phone as he stared at the screen, watching the live feed from Mephisto’s eyes. You were there, sitting by the window, staring into the endless, suffocating darkness that swallowed the N109 Zone whole. Your shoulders were slumped, your body curled in on itself, and every now and then, you would lie down on the floor, as if the weight of everything was pressing down on you too hard to stay upright. His jaw clenched as he watched, frustration building inside him.

This is bad.

You had always been resistant, always fought back, but this…this was something different. You weren’t fighting anymore. You weren’t snapping at him or throwing up those fiery walls of defiance he had grown used to. Instead, you were retreating further into yourself, growing more distant with each passing day. The way your body slumped, the way your gaze lingered in the dark void beyond the window—it was getting worse. He could see it, feel it.

Luke and Kieran had reported the same. You had refused their usual games, even Kitty Cards, the one thing that normally drew a spark of life from you. Now, you just sat in silence, staring at nothing. The reports stung more than he wanted to admit, but he had brushed them off with a simple wave of his hand. The twins didn’t understand. They couldn’t. You were complicated, yes, but you were his. You’d come around...eventually.

But as the days passed and your silence grew heavier, Sylus found himself questioning his own certainty.

What can I do?

His mind reeled, sifting through memories, trying to recall something—anything—that might pull you back. Something that might bring you closer, back to the fire and spirit you once had. And then it hit him: those days he spent watching you from afar, studying your every move. You used to be so vibrant, so full of life. You had routines, little quirks, things you enjoyed. You wore your emotions on your sleeve back then, not hidden behind walls of silence and sadness.

Plushies. The thought came suddenly, and he blinked in realization. You had so many of them in your apartment back then, lining your shelves, covering your bed. They had been a part of your life, a small thing, but it was something you loved. Something that made you happy.

Sylus thought of your apartment for a moment. He could go back, retrieve your old plushies—sentimental things, he thought—but quickly dismissed the idea. Too risky. Not because he was afraid of Xavier—no, he had no fear of that man. But the idea of crossing paths with him was a distraction he didn’t need. There was no reason to stir the pot when it could be avoided.

He smirked to himself. No need for that. He had the resources. Endless resources.

The thought turned into action quickly. As soon as his meeting was over, he made his way to Linkon, the place where he had hoped you had long left behind in the depths of your mind. The streets felt familiar under his feet, but the urgency was different now. He wasn’t stalking you, studying your life. This time, he had a mission.

He walked through the streets, eyes scanning every shop and storefront with purpose. It didn’t matter where the plushies came from, not really. They were just material things. But a part of him—perhaps the part still clinging to the memories of you in that life—thought it might mean more if they came from here, from this place that had once been yours. He continued down the street, stopping when something caught his eye.

The arcade.

It was the one you had frequented with Xavier or Tara on occasion, the place where you had spent so many nights laughing, playing games, and winning prizes from those crane machines filled with plushies. Sylus’s eyes narrowed as the idea formed in his mind. He stepped inside, the dim, flashing lights of the arcade casting odd shadows on the floor. The sounds of games whirring and children laughing filled the space, but Sylus barely noticed. His eyes went straight to the crane machines.

The machines were full of plushies—adorable, colorful things, soft and sweet, just like the ones you used to love. He scanned the contents inside, his mind already spinning with possibilities. This wasn’t his usual scene. No, not even close. But for you? He’d endure it. He’d do anything if it meant pulling you out of that dark hole you were sinking into.

This was where you used to come, where you would smile, your eyes lighting up as you played the games with such focus. He could see it, almost feel it.

And then, as he approached the line of crane machines, it happened—a fleeting vision, like a memory, washed over him. He blinked, and for a moment, there you were. You were standing in front of one of the machines, your fingers gripping the controls as you concentrated, your lips curving into a bright, beautiful smile. The way you laughed, the way you cheered when you finally won a plushie—the image was so real, so vivid, that he could almost reach out and touch you.

He blinked again, and it was gone.

The claw machines sat before him, but now they were just stuffed with silent, lifeless toys. The space where you had stood was empty, your laughter only a ghost in his mind. Sylus inhaled deeply, his jaw tightening. He shook off the hallucination. Focus.

He walked up to one of the machines, eyeing the prizes inside. His fingers slid into his pocket, pulling out a handful of coins and tokens he had purchased at the counter. The machine whirred to life as he fed the tokens in, the claw dropping down with a clumsy movement. He tried once, twice, three times—but the claw was weak, releasing its grip on the plushies just before it could carry them to the prize slot. His frustration grew with each failed attempt, his jaw tightening. Rigged, he thought bitterly.

As he was about to try again, an employee approached him, a young woman with a nervous smile on her face. “Uh, sir? If you’d like, we have a coupon for more tokens at half price.”

Sylus didn’t even glance her way as he responded, his voice flat. “No need.”

“Oh! Okay, well...uh...”

The girl blinked, confused for a moment, but before she could offer another suggestion, Sylus turned his gaze toward her, sharp and cold. “How much to buy this entire arcade?”

The employee’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to form words. “I-I’ll…go get my boss,” she stammered before rushing away, her footsteps barely audible over the noise of the games.

Sylus watched her retreat, his fingers drumming idly against his thigh as he waited. The arcade lights blinked overhead, casting colorful shadows across the room, but to him, the place felt hollow without you here. He had only come because this arcade had meant something to you. It didn’t matter if the plushies came from here or somewhere else, not really. But for some reason, deep down, he thought it might mean more if they came from a place tied to your past. To your life. It wasn’t just a purchase—it was a way to remind you of who you were. To anchor you back.

Sylus slid his hands into his pockets as he scanned the area again. A few minutes later, the owner appeared, a shorter man in his mid-forties with a look of disbelief on his face. He stepped forward cautiously, wiping his hands nervously on his uniform. “Uh, sir, I’m not sure I heard correctly, but did you—did you say you wanted to buy the arcade?”

Sylus nodded, his expression unchanging. “Yes. How much?”

The man sputtered, clearly taken aback by the directness. “Well, uh… I don’t know if we’ve ever…I mean…”

“Name a number,” Sylus interrupted, his tone firm. He didn’t have time for negotiations.

The owner hesitated for a moment, then threw out a figure, clearly testing the waters. “Five hundred thousand?”

Without missing a beat, Sylus pulled out his phone and transferred the funds on the spot. “Done. Banking information?”

After cautiously and nervously giving him the details, owner’s face paled as he checked his account, the shock evident in his wide eyes. He stumbled over his words again. “I…I don’t know what to say…”

“There’s nothing to say. My lawyers will be in contact to draw up a contract for you to sign, acknowledging that you got the money.” Sylus gave a curt nod before walking back toward the crane machines. The arcade now belonged to him, and with it, every single plushie inside. He would make sure you got what you needed, whether you wanted it or not.

Anything to pull you out of the darkness.

Sylus returned home later that day, the weight of the bag of plushies in his hand, his steps deliberate. He had spent the afternoon in Linkon, finding the perfect toys to bring you some semblance of comfort. The arcade had been a ridiculous purchase, but it didn’t matter. He’d do anything if it meant pulling you out of the dark place you’d been sinking into.

But as he neared the bedroom, he felt that familiar heaviness settle over him. The silence in the house was thick, the air heavy with tension. It had been like this for weeks now—no more sharp retorts from you, no more fights. Just a hollow, quiet resignation that ate away at him.

He pushed the door open slightly and stopped, noticing something unusual. You weren’t sitting by the window or on the bed, where you usually sulked in silence. Instead, you were on the floor, your chain stretching behind you. And you were talking—softly, your voice trembling, words coming out in fragments.

His breath caught in his throat, and instead of stepping fully into the room, Sylus lingered by the door, listening.

Perched on your finger was Mephisto, his loyal bird, his own creation. But right now, the bird wasn’t spying for him. Instead, it seemed to be the only company you had, its head tilted as it listened to you speak.

"I never imagined myself being a mom this soon…" Your voice was barely above a whisper, but the sadness in it was unmistakable. Sylus’s hand tightened around the doorknob as he strained to hear more. “Mephisto…what do you think Xavier will think? If I...ever escape? Or when he comes for me? Will he still love me if I’m pregnant with this baby?"

The words hit Sylus like a physical blow.

Xavier. Always Xavier.

His heart pounded, his vision blurring with rage as you continued speaking. That name…that man. Every time you said it, it was like a dagger twisting in his chest. You were here, with him, carrying his child, and yet your thoughts were still consumed by Xavier. It was unbearable. If it weren’t for the fact that Xavier’s life was tied to the babies health, he would have erased that pest ages ago.

“I miss him…sometimes I wonder if he thinks of me”.

He couldn’t listen anymore.

The door swung open, the sudden motion startling both you and Mephisto. The bird flapped its wings, flying up to land on Sylus’s shoulder, as if sensing the tension in the room. You immediately stopped speaking, your body going rigid. Your hand, which had been cradling the bird, fell to your side as you looked up at him in shock, your eyes wide, caught in the act of voicing your deepest thoughts.

Sylus stepped into the room, his gaze fixed on you, burning with a mixture of frustration and anger. He could feel the pulse of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he took in the sight of you, chained by the bed, your eyes wide and tear-streaked. And yet, even now, you were still thinking of Xavier.

You didn’t say anything as he entered. You just pushed yourself up from the floor and moved toward the window, dragging the chain with you, the metal links clinking against the floor. You sat by the window, your back turned to him, staring out into the endless darkness of the N109 Zone. Your shoulders slumped, and it was clear you had retreated back into that shell of silence again.

The knot in Sylus’s chest tightened painfully. He had bought the plushies for you, spent the whole afternoon thinking about how they might cheer you up, how they might remind you of something familiar, something that made you happy before. But now, standing here, the distance between you felt insurmountable.

He stepped forward, his voice low but strained, “These are for you, kitten.” He gestured toward the plushies, trying to keep his tone calm, trying to pretend that your indifference didn’t hurt him as much as it did.

His throat tightened as he set the bag down on the floor, plush toys spilling from the opening in a colorful mess. He stood there for a moment, waiting, watching to see if you would acknowledge him, acknowledge what he had done for you. But instead, you barely glanced over your shoulder, your gaze landing on the bag briefly before you turned back toward the window.

You sighed softly, the sound barely audible but heavy with the weight of your exhaustion.

“I miss the sun,” you whispered, your voice hollow, defeated. "I miss the stars. My star."

Sylus felt something break inside him. The sun. Of course, it wasn’t just the sun you missed—it was the life you had before. The freedom. The light. And with those simple words, you had reduced all of his efforts—everything he’d done, everything he was doing for you—into nothing. The plushies, the grand mansion, the baby…none of it mattered. All you wanted was what he couldn’t give you.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he stood there, watching you curl in on yourself, your back turned to him. The silence that stretched between you now felt unbearable, suffocating.

But you didn’t turn around. You didn’t even look at him. All you did was sigh again, your fingers tracing the edge of the window, eyes lost in the dark, endless void outside.

Sylus’s frustration boiled over. He swallowed back the anger, trying to keep it under control, but your silence, your distance, was eating away at him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stared at you, trying to understand why no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough.

"You’re not leaving, kitten," he said, his voice barely a whisper but filled with a dark edge. "No matter what you think Xavier will do. He’s not coming for you. He can’t take you away from me. This is real—our life, our baby."

The words hung heavy in the air, and he watched the way your body tensed at the mention of Xavier’s name. His heart twisted painfully as he saw the slight shudder in your shoulders, as though the mere mention of the man you still loved was enough to stir something inside you that Sylus could never touch.

“You need to let this go,” Sylus said, his voice low as he took another step closer, though you still didn’t turn to face him. “I’m giving you everything. I’m doing everything I can to make this work. You have to see that.”

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t argue. You didn’t fight.

You just stared out into the darkness, the silence between you louder than any words you could have spoken. He watched as tears streamed down your face but you didn't move to wipe them.

Sylus stood there, helpless in the face of your indifference, his heart breaking as he realized that no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many plushies he bought or promises he made, you still longed for a world that he could never give you.

You missed the sun. And you missed...your star?

He didn't know what you meant by the star bit, but for the first time, Sylus felt a deep, painful fear that maybe, just maybe, he was losing you for good.

The nightmare crept in slowly, the kind that didn’t announce itself with a sudden jolt of fear but instead slithered into your subconscious, blending in with the shadows until you could no longer tell what was real. You found yourself in Reese’s basement again, the cold, sterile air clinging to your skin like an unwelcome presence. The sound of dripping water echoed faintly in the distance, but everything else was unnervingly quiet.

You were lying on an operating table, the cold metal pressing against your back, your body feeling oddly weightless and disconnected. Something was wrong. You tried to move, but your arms wouldn’t respond. Panic flickered inside you, but it hadn’t hit full force yet. Not until you glanced down.

That’s when you saw it.

Your stomach was open, your insides exposed like some grotesque science experiment. The slick, pale coils of your intestines lay outside your body, splayed out on the table in front of you like they didn’t belong to you. The sight was horrifying—your own organs, glistening under the harsh light, as though they were being examined like a specimen. Your breath caught in your throat, but when you tried to scream, nothing came out. Your mouth opened in a silent cry for help, but no sound escaped.

Fear surged through you like a flood, hot and overwhelming, and your mind screamed at your body to move, to do something, but you couldn’t. You were paralyzed, forced to watch the nightmare unfold.

And then you realized you weren’t alone.

There were faces above you, peering down at your exposed body with cold, clinical detachment. First, Reese, his twisted grin spread across his face, his eyes with sadistic glee. He was enjoying this, watching you writhe in silent horror, his hands clasped behind his back as if this was all just a game to him.

Next to him stood Xavier, his face blank, emotionless, as he stared at you. His sharp eyes were cold, distant, and yet they burned into you like a brand. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His presence alone was suffocating, a constant reminder of what you had lost, what he had failed to protect you from. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just watched as if you were nothing more than a subject under glass.

But it was Sylus who truly terrified you.

He was standing on the other side of the table, his eyes fixed on your exposed body with a look of satisfaction that made your skin crawl. There was something possessive in the way he stared at you, like you were his prized possession laid bare before him. His lips curled into a small, smug smile as he reached out to touch your stomach, his fingers brushing against the edges of your open flesh with a reverence that made bile rise in your throat.

“See, kitten,” Sylus said softly, his voice dripping with that familiar condescension. “This is your new reality. You can’t escape it.”

You tried to scream again, but it was useless. Your lungs felt heavy, your body weighed down by the paralyzing fear, as if the table itself was swallowing you whole. You could feel everything—the sharp, cold air on your exposed organs, the slow, methodical touch of Sylus’s hand, and the suffocating pressure of their gazes pressing down on you.

The room started spinning, the faces above you blurring into distorted shapes, and yet the horror of it all stayed sharp, the feeling of helplessness wrapping around you like chains. The metallic smell of blood filled your nostrils, thick and nauseating, and you could see the glint of surgical tools beside the table, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. The instruments were stained with blood—your blood.

Reese’s grin widened as he leaned over you, his breath hot against your skin. “You never had a chance,” he whispered, his voice low and sickeningly sweet. “These organs are mine.”

Xavier’s eyes flicked to Sylus, and for a brief moment, you saw something in his expression—something dark, something possessive, like he, too, was staking his claim. You were torn between them, trapped on this table, your body no longer yours, and no matter how much you wanted to escape, no matter how much you screamed inside, you knew there was no way out.

You tried to move again, desperate to break free, but the more you struggled, the more the sensation of numbness took over. It was like your body was slipping away from you, being claimed piece by piece by the men who stood above you, watching with eerie fascination.

Finally, you broke through whatever invisible barrier was keeping you from talking.

"Xavier!!!" you screamed. "Do something! Save me...why won't you save me!"

But Xavier continued to say nothing, his gaze drifting back to you.

Then he too, smiled.

The room grew darker, the light flickering overhead, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. The faces loomed closer, suffocating you, crowding your vision until all you could see were their eyes—cold, calculating, and void of any humanity.

Cold water suddenly splashed down, over your face, filling your eyes, ears, mouth, and eventually your lungs. You tried to thrash your head but it was useless. You couldn't breathe, couldn't swallow. Your chest tightened harder and tighter.

And then, just as you felt your lungs were about to burst, as you felt your consciousness teetering on the edge, everything snapped.

You woke up with a violent gasp, your lungs burning as you struggled to pull in air. Instinctively, your hands flew to your abdomen, pressing down hard, as if you needed the physical reassurance that your insides weren’t spilling out. The nightmare’s vivid, grotesque images still clung to your mind, and for a moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your body was torn open, laid bare for all to see.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, but the curse did nothing to calm your racing heart. Your chest tightened as you looked down at your stomach, your fingers still gripping your skin, trembling. Slowly, your mind began to separate the dream from reality, but the aftershocks stayed with you. The blanket was tangled around your legs, trapping you in a cocoon of cold sweat. Each breath felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion that went far deeper than just a lack of sleep.

The nightmares—they were getting worse. More frequent, more real. Every time you closed your eyes, they dragged you back into that suffocating pit of fear, where the lines between what was real and what wasn’t blurred. You rubbed your face, but the sensation of dread clung to your skin, leaving you shaken.

You sat up slowly, your body feeling like lead as the gravity of the day hit you, sinking deep into the pit of your stomach like a stone. You turn and look at the calender.

Ultrasound day.

You groaned and ran your fingers through your hair, already feeling the weight of it suffocating you. Of course. How could you forget? Sylus hadn’t let you. He had been hovering over you for days, his voice a constant reminder, as though you could somehow slip away from this reality if he didn’t keep hammering it into you. Today was the day you’d finally see it—the thing inside you, the proof that this wasn’t just some horrific dream. Proof that your body no longer belonged to you, that you were no longer you but something else entirely—his vessel. A means to feed another.

Your gaze fell to the plushies now scattered around the bed. They were everywhere. Cute little creatures, soft and inviting, mocking the harsh gothic surroundings of the room. A crow, a tomato, a cactus, etc. The sight of them in this prison, this cavernous room with its dark walls and heavy, suffocating drapes, was almost laughable. Sylus had brought them to the bed one by one, carefully arranging them as if placing them around you could somehow undo the terror, the isolation, the chain that bound you.

He had looked so stupid, fumbling with the soft toys, his hands large and out of place as he’d set them down like they could bring you any comfort. You had watched him, detached, numb, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. And yet, despite yourself, you had looked at them. You’d finally let him see you acknowledge them.

And they were cute. You hated to admit it, but they were. Out of place, for sure, in this massive room with its cold, black walls, heavy drapes, and gothic architecture. It was as if the plushies were mocking everything that had happened, like they didn’t belong in the hellhole you had been forced into. They were a small reminder of the world you used to live in, the one that now seemed so far out of reach.

Fuck this. A surge of bitterness swelled in your chest as you stared at the toys, their innocent faces staring back at you. Fuck this, fuck all of it. You didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to see that ultrasound, didn’t want to confront what was happening inside of you. Every fiber of your being wanted to reject it, to deny it, to pretend that maybe—just maybe—this was all some kind of twisted nightmare you would eventually wake up from. But deep down, you knew better. The changes in your body, the nausea, the constant exhaustion…it was real.

It was happening, whether you wanted it to or not.

Before you could sink any deeper into that pit of despair, the door creaked open, the sound making your heart clench with dread. Sylus stepped inside, and you could immediately feel the shift in the air. He always brought that tension with him, that mix of excitement and control that made your skin crawl.

He was trying to mask it, but you saw the gleam in his eyes, the barely-contained thrill in the way he moved. He was always like this when he thought he was getting closer to you—when he thought he was breaking through that wall you had desperately built around yourself.

“Good morning, honey,” he said, his voice soft but dripping with that condescension you had come to despise. He smiled at you, the curve of his lips too smug, too pleased, as if today was some joyous occasion. As if today wasn’t the day you’d be forced to confront the reality of your imprisonment in the most intimate way possible. “Are you ready for today?”

You didn’t answer him. You couldn’t. You felt the bile rising in your throat, that familiar wave of hatred bubbling up inside you, but you swallowed it back down, refusing to let him see how deeply this affected you. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. It wasn’t worth the energy anymore. You didn’t even have the words. All you could do was stare at him, your expression blank, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you, heavier than ever.

Sylus took a few steps closer, his eyes fixed on you, drinking you in like you were the only thing that mattered. That look—it was always the same. Intense. Possessive. Like you were something he had earned, something he was entitled to. It made your skin crawl.

“The doctor will be here soon,” he continued, his tone still maddeningly calm, as though this was just another day. But you could hear the underlying excitement, that barely restrained thrill in his voice. “I need you to behave, kitten. You don’t want to make this harder than it needs to be, do you?”

Behave. You almost laughed at the word, bitter and hollow. As if you had any other choice. As if the chain around your ankle weren’t already proof enough of who held the control here. You glanced down at the metal links, the cold bite of them a constant reminder of how little power you had left. You nodded once, not trusting yourself to speak, because what was the point? Arguing, resisting—it didn’t matter. It never did.

Sylus seemed satisfied with your response, his lips twitching in a small, pleased smile. His gaze swept over you, reading the submission in your posture, the way you sank deeper into yourself. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low, as if speaking to a pet. “Lie down. The doctor will need to get started as soon as he arrives.”

You moved mechanically, your body going through the motions as you lay back against the pillows, feeling a sick sort of detachment settle over you. It was like you weren’t even in your own body anymore, like you were just watching it all unfold from some distant place. The plushies surrounded you, their soft forms a cruel contrast to the cold reality of what was about to happen.

As you lay there, waiting for the inevitable, your thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess. How did I get here? The question echoed in your mind, over and over again, but there was no answer. No way to explain how your life had gone from days spent laughing with Xavier and Tara to this. To lying chained to a bed, waiting for a doctor to come and confirm that you were carrying the child of the man who had taken everything from you.

The thought made you want to disappear. To sink into the darkness outside the window and never wake up again. Anything to escape the suffocating weight pressing down on your chest, anything to stop the creeping dread that crawled beneath your skin.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and you clenched your fists at your sides, knowing that the moment was almost here.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. Your body tensed instinctively, bracing yourself for the cold, clinical presence you had come to expect from anyone in Sylus’s world. You clenched your fists, eyes darting to the door as the doctor entered, pushing in ultrasound equipment on wheels.

But the man who stepped into the room wasn’t what you anticipated. He was older, maybe in his fifties, his salt-and-pepper hair a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere. His presence wasn’t suffocating like Sylus’s. There was something warm in his expression, something…human. You weren’t used to that. It caught you off guard.

You're shocked Sylus was going to let a strange male touch you. You watched as the doctor shook Sylus's hand, a clear sign of trust and comradery.

Ah. Sylus knows him. Very well. This isn't just some random doctor. Explains a lot. You shiver as you think of what kind of crimes Sylus has probably paid this doctor to commit to let him in his home so willingly.

“Good morning,” he said gently, his voice calm and oddly comforting. He smiled softly as he set his equipment beside the bed. “I’m Dr. Merrill. I’m here to do your ultrasound today. I’ll explain everything as we go, alright?”

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. The kindness in his voice felt foreign, almost out of place in this twisted nightmare you had been trapped in for what felt like an eternity. You nodded slowly, still suspicious but strangely relieved by the change in tone. His voice wasn’t cold or demanding. It wasn’t laced with the unspoken threat of power or control. It was just…soft. You hadn’t heard anyone speak to you like that in so long, you almost forgot what it felt like.

Sylus hovered nearby, his eyes never leaving you, watching every interaction like a hawk. But for once, he stayed silent, letting the doctor take over.

Dr. Merrill picked up a tube of gel, holding it up so you could see. “This is just a little gel for the ultrasound,” he explained, his voice steady and reassuring. “It’ll feel cold, but it helps get a clearer picture.”

You nodded again, still feeling numb but surprised at the way he took the time to explain everything. You hadn’t expected that. Not here. Not with Sylus looming like a vulture in the background, ready to pounce on any misstep. The doctor’s voice was like a small anchor in the storm, keeping you tethered to something that wasn’t pain or control. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Gently, Dr. Merrill lifted your nightgown, exposing your abdomen. The room felt colder, more invasive as the gel touched your skin. The chill sent a shiver through you, and you flinched at the sensation. The doctor glanced at you with a small, kind smile. “It’ll warm up in a moment,” he assured you. “You’re doing great.”

The words felt absurd. Doing great? In what world could you be “doing great”? You were lying there, chained, being forced to confront the reality of what was happening inside your body, a reality you had no control over. But his tone, the gentle way he spoke, almost made you believe him. Even if just for a second.

“Now, we’re going to take a look and see how everything is progressing,” he explained softly. “You’ll hear the baby’s heartbeat in a moment. That’s one of the few things we’ll check.”

Dr. Merrill picked up the ultrasound wand and placed it gently on your stomach, moving it slowly as he worked. “Now, let’s take a look,” he said softly. The room filled with the quiet hum of the machine, and you felt the weight of Sylus’s gaze on you, his anticipation palpable.

You kept your eyes glued to the ceiling, refusing to look at the screen, refusing to acknowledge what was happening. But the sound of Dr. Merrill’s voice, calm and steady, pulled you in despite yourself.

“There’s the head,” he said, pointing to the monitor. “See it here? The baby’s facing down.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight, but you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the screen. There it was—the faint outline of a tiny head, blurred but unmistakable. Your chest tightened.

“And here are the feet, curled up just beneath the torso.” The doctor moved the wand slightly, pointing to the small image of the baby’s curled limbs. “Everything looks like it’s developing well for 7 weeks. Only one fetus as far as I can see.”

Great. At least the universe had been kind enough to only plant one baby instead of twins or worse...triplets.

Sylus leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on the screen, his excitement almost palpable now. You could feel the air shift with his intensity, like he was holding himself back from bursting with joy.

Dr. Merrill smiled softly, clearly pleased with the baby’s progress. “You can even see the spine here, along the back. It’s still early, but all the major parts are starting to form.”

The soft sound of a heartbeat began thudding in the background, steady and constant, echoing in the room like a reminder you couldn’t ignore. You felt it deep in your bones, the crushing weight of the reality you had been trying so hard to escape.

You started to dissociate. You blocked it out. But then he began to speak again.

“There it is,” Dr. Merrill said quietly, as though the sound was something sacred, something wonderful. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat. Strong and healthy.”

Your heart clenched at the word—baby. The nausea returned, and you turned your eyes to the ceiling, willing yourself not to look at the screen. Not to acknowledge what was happening. You could hear the faint sound of the machine, the steady hum of it filling the room, but all you wanted to do was disappear, to shrink into yourself and never face the truth that was about to unfold.

And then you heard it more clearly. The sound that punched through your mind and straight into your chest.

The heartbeat.

You closed your eyes, a lump forming in your throat, and tried to block it out again, but the sound echoed in your mind, growing louder, more real now. The heartbeat. The baby. Everything you had been dreading, everything you had hoped wasn’t real—it was there, pounding in your ears, confirming the horror of your situation.

Your body went cold, your muscles stiff as you lay there, paralyzed by the reality that you could no longer escape. It’s real. The baby is real and alive.

You didn’t want to feel it. You didn’t want to acknowledge it. But the heartbeat kept going, steady and relentless, anchoring you to this twisted new reality.

Dr. Merrill didn’t stop. His voice continued, gentle and patient, as if he didn’t notice the storm brewing inside you. The room felt smaller, the air heavier as Dr. Merrill continued speaking, explaining everything he was doing with a calmness that kept you grounded, even as you felt like you were falling apart inside.

You barely heard him. His words were distant, drowned out by the sound of the heartbeat and the weight of what was growing inside you. Your mind screamed for escape, but there was no way out. No way to undo what had already begun. You were trapped in your own body, and Sylus had made sure of that.

But Dr. Merrill’s calmness, his steady explanations, were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. His kindness, the small moments of humanity he offered, kept you grounded, even as the world around you shattered. He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t indifferent. He treated you like you mattered, even though everything about your situation screamed that you didn’t.

Sylus, meanwhile, stood at the edge of the bed, his excitement palpable. His eyes were glued to the screen, as if the sight of the baby—the proof of what he had claimed—was the culmination of everything he had ever wanted. His hands twitched at his sides, and you could feel his unspoken desire to celebrate, to revel in this moment with you. To share in the twisted joy he felt.

But you couldn’t give him that. You couldn’t share in his excitement. You couldn’t even look at him.

Sylus finally broke the silence, his voice soft but laced with anticipation. “When will we know the gender?”

Dr. Merrill glanced at Sylus and then back to the screen. “Usually, we can determine the gender around eighteen to twenty weeks, but it can vary depending on how the baby is positioned.”

Sylus nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He turned to you, his expression filled with a strange mix of pride and emotion. “Soon, honey. Soon we’ll know.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The words were too heavy, too suffocating. You stared blankly at the ceiling, your chest tight as the sound of the heartbeat echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of what was happening inside of you.

Dr. Merrill continued with the ultrasound, checking the baby’s size and positioning. “Everything is progressing as it should,” he said gently. “The baby looks healthy, growing well, regular heartbeat.”

His voice was calm, reassuring. Your mind was spinning, the weight of it all pressing down on you. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything other than lie there and listen to the confirmation that you were carrying a child you didn't want, that your body was no longer your own.

Finally, the ultrasound was over. Dr. Merrill wiped the gel from your stomach and offered you another kind smile before turning to Sylus. “I recommend another ultrasound in a few monthsfor a progress check, to make sure baby has all its parts. It'll go just like this one did, very simple."

You looked away, your throat too tight to speak. You hated how his kindness made you feel. Hated how much you longed for more of it, how desperate you were for any scrap of humanity in this twisted, suffocating nightmare.

Dr. Merrill packed up his equipment and left the room, and with him, the brief moment of peace shattered. Sylus remained, his eyes still gleaming with excitement, his voice a soft whisper as he moved closer to the bed.

“Did you hear that, sweetie?” he said, his voice filled with emotion. “That’s our baby. Alive. Real.”

The words felt like a punch to the stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs. You couldn’t respond. You didn’t want to. You just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything press down on you like a suffocating blanket. The sound of the heartbeat still echoed in your ears, relentless and haunting, a reminder that you were no longer just yourself. You were carrying his child, and there was no escape.

“I want to go home,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the pain in it was unmistakable. Tears streamed down your face and the room became a blur, temporarily blocking Sylus out of your vision before you wiped your eyes.

Sylus’s face faltered, the joy in his eyes dimming for just a moment, but he quickly masked it. You saw the crack in his excitement, but you didn’t care.

“You are home sweetie. This has been your home before you or I ever realized it.”

You turned away from him, silently, your eyes drifting to the window, staring into the endless darkness of the N109 Zone. You wished for the sun, for the light, for anything that could take you away from this nightmare.

But the darkness was all that remained.

Dinner was quiet, a heavy silence draped over the table like a suffocating blanket. The dim glow of the candles cast flickering shadows across the room, but the atmosphere was anything but warm. You sat across from Sylus, barely able to meet his gaze, your fork trembling as you forced down small bites of steak. The nausea had come and gone since the ultrasound, but it wasn’t the sickness that was making your stomach churn now—it was the overwhelming sense of dread that seemed to settle over every moment you spent in this house.

Sylus sat across from you, watching you carefully as he always did, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite name. You didn’t want to look at him. Couldn’t bring yourself to. But you felt his gaze lingering on you, waiting for something. For what, you didn’t know. You didn’t care.

Your chest tightened as you tried to swallow another bite of food, but the lump in your throat made it nearly impossible. Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You were tired—so damn tired of crying. Tired of feeling like you were suffocating, trapped in a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. But no matter how hard you tried to hold them back, the tears slid down your cheeks, silent and betraying.

Sylus noticed, of course. He always noticed.

He reached across the table, his hand gentle as it brushed against your cheek to wipe the tears away. His touch, though cold, felt like fire against your skin, and instinctively, you flinched away from him, pulling back as though his fingers had burned you.

His hand hovered in the air for a moment, the gesture frozen, before he slowly pulled it back. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the intensity of it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

The silence stretched on, thicker now, until finally, he spoke.

“I know this is hard for you,” Sylus began, his voice quieter than you expected, softer. “But do you really plan to just avoid me the whole time? I’m the father of the baby, honey. You should at least try and talk to me about how you’re feeling. You aren't alone in all this.”

You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles losing blood, your nails digging into the wood as his words washed over you. The anger simmered just beneath the surface, a slow boil that had been building for weeks now, ever since that horrible day when he had brought you here. Your head was a storm of conflicting emotions—rage, sorrow, fear—and the more he spoke, the more the fury bubbled up inside you.

“I…” Your voice trembled as you tried to find the words, your chest tight with the weight of it all. “You…you weren’t supposed to be the father of my baby, Sylus.”

The words hung in the air between you, cold and sharp, and when you finally forced yourself to look up at him, you saw the devastation flicker across his face. For a brief moment, he looked lost, hurt. His expression softened, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something to hold onto.

“Is it the pregnancy making you feel this way,” Sylus asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, “or is it me?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The truth was, it was both. The pregnancy had turned your world upside down, trapping you in a nightmare you couldn’t escape. But Sylus—Sylus had taken everything from you. The life you’d known. The love you’d felt. He had stolen it all, and now, he was asking you to feel something for him, to open up to him like it hadn’t been him who destroyed you in the first place.

The silence between you felt like a chasm, growing wider and deeper with each passing second.

He reached for your hand, gently cradling it in his own as he leaned forward. His touch was cautious, careful, as if he were afraid you might pull away again. “What can I do?” he asked, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’d do anything to prove to you that I can be a good dad. A good man to you. You just have to let me, sweetie. I have money, I have houses…anything you want.”

His words twisted in your chest, making it harder to breathe. He was offering you everything except the one thing you truly wanted: freedom. The freedom to choose your own life, your own path. And now, sitting here, chained to a future you never asked for, with a child you never wanted, the weight of it all finally broke you.

Tears spilled over, uncontrollable now, as you wrenched your hand away from his, your voice trembling with anger and pain.

“I don’t want your money!” you screamed, the sound raw and broken. “And I sure as hell don’t want your baby!”

Sylus flinched at your words, his face crumpling in hurt, but you didn’t care. The anger surged inside you like a tidal wave, crashing against everything you’d been holding back for weeks. It all came pouring out, too fast, too much, but you couldn’t stop.

“You’ve trapped me here, Sylus!” you cried, your voice shaking with emotion. “You’ve taken everything from me! My life, my freedom, my choices…I never wanted this! I never wanted you!”

Your hands shook as you wiped at your tears, but they kept coming, relentless, like a dam had burst inside of you. “I have nightmares every night, Sylus. Every single night, I’m back in that basement. It feels like I never left. I see Reese. I see you. And now…now I’m carrying this…this thing inside me, and it feels like a monster. Another monster trapping me! I feel like I’m losing myself more and more every day, and I can’t take it anymore.”

Your voice broke on the last words, your breath coming in ragged sobs. The weight of everything you’d been holding in finally crashed down on you, suffocating you in its grip. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs, but they tore through you, leaving you shaking, fragile.

For the first time in weeks, you let yourself fall apart.

Sylus watched you, his expression stricken, his hands hovering near you but not daring to touch. His face was a mixture of pain and guilt, his eyes wide as if he didn’t know what to do, how to fix this. He had always been in control, always sure of himself. But now, in the face of your despair, he looked lost.

“Sweetie…” he whispered, his voice soft, pleading. “Please, let me help. I never wanted to hurt you.”

But his words felt hollow, empty. There was no fixing this. Not with money. Not with promises. Nothing could undo the damage that had been done.

“I don’t want your help,” you said through your tears, your voice barely audible. “I just want my life back.”

And for a long moment, the two of you sat there, the silence between you stretching into something neither of you could escape. The weight of your broken world pressed down, and the distance between you, though only a few feet, felt like an ocean.

Sylus reached for your hand again, slower this time, hesitant, as though he knew you might pull away. His cold fingers brushed against your skin, and even though you wanted to recoil, you didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.

“I’ll find a way,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll find a way to make this better. I promise.”

But even as he said the words, your heart twisted and your eyes filled with more tears.

Some things could never be made right.

The room felt like it was closing in on you, every breath harder to take as your sobs wracked through your body. You wanted to scream, to run, to make it all stop. But here you were—trapped, chained to a reality you never chose, forced into a life you never wanted. And Sylus, with all his soft words and empty promises, sat across from you, looking at you with eyes that made you want to tear the world apart.

His touch was still on your skin, his fingers cold, tentative, like he didn’t know how to reach you anymore. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he never had.

“I’ll find a way,” he whispered again, like it was some kind of lifeline, something he could grasp onto to pull you out of the darkness. His voice cracked, filled with an emotion you’d never heard from him before. “I’ll make this better. I’ll fix it, sweetie. I’ll do anything.”

The weight of his words only fueled the fire burning in your chest. How could he possibly think he could fix this? How could he believe that he could make this nightmare go away with his empty offers and twisted affection?

You snapped.

“You can’t!!” you screamed, the words ripping from your throat, sharp and raw. Your whole body trembled with the force of your anger, your hands shaking as you clenched them into fists. “You can’t make this right, Sylus! Don’t you get that?!”

His face twisted, the hurt clear on his face, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The dam had broken, and all the pain, all the rage, was flooding out.

“How could you ever make this right?” you shouted, your voice cracking as your tears blurred your vision. “You’ve raped me! I am trapped here, with you, carrying a child—your child—and you think you can fix it? Are you stupid?”

You pushed the chair back so violently it toppled over, but you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was getting the words out—every awful, gut-wrenching truth you’d held in for so long.

“I hate my life!” you cried, the words bitter and hot on your tongue. “I hate this baby! And most of all… I hate you!”

Sylus’s face crumpled, the hurt in his eyes so deep, so raw, that it would have shattered you if you weren’t already so far gone. His hands, once so confident and controlling, hovered in the air, unsure, as if he didn’t know whether to reach for you or let you be. You could see the way his throat worked as he tried to speak, the words catching somewhere between shock and devastation.

The silence between you was deafening, thick with the weight of your confession. You could feel the cracks in his carefully constructed façade, the way your words cut through him like a knife. But you didn’t feel sorry. You couldn’t. Not anymore.

You expected his usual taunts. You had said similar things to him before and he had just brushed them off. But now, he was listening. And it was very clear he believed you.

Sylus’s voice, when it finally came, was barely above a whisper. “You really hate me?”

There was something so broken in the way he said it, like he couldn’t quite believe the words. Like he hadn’t already known how much you despised him. His face, usually so composed, so sure, was now painted with a pain that almost mirrored your own.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your vision swimming with tears, and for a moment, you didn’t know if you could stand anymore. You were so tired—so incredibly tired of fighting, of feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of everything that had happened.

But you weren’t done. Not yet.

“I hate everything about this,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying, your throat raw. “I hate that you’ve made me into someone I don’t even recognize. And I hate that you think you can just…fix it. Like I'm just some toy you accidently dropped.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, you saw something that almost broke you. Sylus, this man who had taken so much from you, who had been the source of so much of your pain, looked shattered. He was still, his face drawn, his eyes wide and filled with something you didn’t want to see—vulnerability.

“I’m trying,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m trying to make this work. I love you. I love our baby. I just…I don’t know what else to do.”

His words hit you like a blow, but instead of softening, they only made you more confused. How could he say that? How could he stand there, acting like he hadn’t ripped apart your entire world, acting like love could somehow make this okay?

“You don’t get it, do you?” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I don’t want your love. I don’t want this baby. You’ve destroyed everything I ever cared about. I can’t love you. I can’t love this…this monster growing inside me.”

Sylus flinched at the word monster, his expression tightening as if you had slapped him. His hands, which had been hovering near you, fell to his sides, limp and defeated.

For a moment, the two of you just remained there, the space between you impossibly wide. Your chest heaved with the weight of everything you had just said, the truth burning in your throat.

Sylus’s face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed as if he were holding back tears of his own. If you hadn't known any better you would've thought he was about to cry. You’d never seen him like this—never seen him so…broken. It should have made you feel better. It should have given you some sense of satisfaction to see him suffer the way you had. But all it did was leave you feeling hollow, empty.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

Sylus stood there, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. You could see the way your words had broken something in him, the raw vulnerability in his eyes, but he didn’t back down. Not yet. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he wanted to reach for you, to pull you close, but he seemed to know better now. Instead, he took a step closer, his voice cracking as he spoke.

"Your old life was killing you,” Sylus said, his voice soft but edged with frustration. "You were overworked, exhausted, running on fumes. You barely had time for yourself. You were drowning, and I saved you from that. You don’t see it now, but I gave you a way out."

You felt the familiar surge of anger swell in your chest, hotter and fiercer than before. His words felt like a slap in the face, as if he was dismissing everything you had worked for, everything you had built in your life—no matter how hard it had been. He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand. And the fact that he thought he had "saved" you only made it worse.

"Saved me?" you spat, your voice rising with disbelief. "You think you saved me? Sylus, I wasn’t asking to be saved! I didn’t need you to swoop in and decide that my life wasn’t good enough for me. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine!"

He froze, his expression tightening, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

"Yeah, I was tired. Yeah, I was overworked sometimes," you continued, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. "But I chose that life. The life of a hunter. I chose to work hard. I chose to push myself because it was my life. I could decide if I wanted to be exhausted or not. I could decide if I wanted to keep going or take a break."

"You took that away from me."

Sylus shook his head, a deep crease forming between his brows. "You’re not seeing it clearly. You were on the edge, about to burn out completely. I just...I gave you a way out. Somewhere you didn’t have to fight so hard all the time."

"Well, it wasn’t your decision to make!" you yelled, your voice breaking as the tears welled up again. "It was my life! My choice! Maybe I would have burned out, maybe I would have fallen apart, but it would have been my choice to do that! And for the record, I am fighting here. Every single day I have to fight the urge to slam my head into the wall until I pass out and die!"

Sylus’s face twisted with something between guilt and frustration, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I’m trying to give you something better," he insisted, his voice thick with emotion. "A life where you don’t have to struggle every day. A life where you’re cared for, where you don’t have to worry about anything."

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and hollow in the tense silence between you.

"I don’t want that life, Sylus," you said, your voice soft but laced with anger. "I want my own life. The one where I get to make decisions for myself. Even if it’s messy and exhausting."

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Sylus stared at you, his eyes wide, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something—anything—to convince you that he was right. But you could see the cracks in his resolve, the way his shoulders slumped just a little, the way his gaze flickered with something close to defeat.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. He just stood there, his chest heaving with the weight of everything unspoken between you.

Then, finally, his voice came, soft and tender.

"Why can't you see that this is better for you?," he whispered, his eyes searching yours for something you couldn’t give him. "Your safe here, with me. You saw what happened to you when you ran. Can't you understand?"

You shook your head, your throat tight with the tears you were fighting back from spilling any further. Why were you crying so much? Stop crying in front of this asshole.

"You can’t decide what’s better for me," you said quietly. "That’s not love, Sylus. That’s control."

And with those words, the last bit of fight seemed to drain from him. He stood there, silent and still, as if he didn’t know what to do, as if he were finally realizing the depth of what he had done. You watched as his face let go of all the frustration, and he turned to you.

You braced yourself for the usual. Sylus was nothing if not predictable in the way he handled your anger. You expected the chuckle, the smirk that would twist his lips as he dismissed your emotions, reducing them to a symptom of your hormones. He’d likely pull you into his lap, force you to melt into him until your tears spilled out, and he’d whisper something charming or infuriating, depending on his mood. That was Sylus—always in control, always one step ahead of your emotions, bending them to suit his will.

But this time, there was no chuckle. No smirk.

Instead, he stood up from his chair, pushing it back gently, and then…he knelt.

He knelt in front of you, and it took a moment for your brain to process what was happening. Sylus had never knelt before you, never shown this kind of vulnerability. It was always you looking up at him, feeling the weight of his presence, the force of his control pressing down on you. But now, for the first time, you were looking down at him.

It was jarring, seeing him like this. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. You wanted to pull away, to retreat into the safety of your anger, but something in the way he looked at you kept you rooted to the spot.

He reached for your hand, his fingers cool against your skin as he took it gently in his. You stared at him, waiting for the shift, waiting for him to pull you into his world of manipulation again. But instead, he sighed softly, and you watched, stunned, as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it with a tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I’ve…lost people before," he began, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it, filled with something raw, something you weren’t sure you wanted to confront. "People I cared about. People that…didn’t even care about me. And yet, it still hurt."

His words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. You blinked, unable to tear your gaze away from him. This wasn’t the Sylus you knew. This wasn’t the man who had taken you, who had controlled and manipulated every part of your life since that fateful day you had arrived here. This was someone else—someone who, for a brief moment, seemed…vulnerable.

"I don’t want to live through that again," he continued, his voice steady, though you could hear the pain beneath it. "I don’t want to lose you. I want to give you everything I have. Everything I own. My body, my soul—it’s all yours."

His words struck you like a blow, leaving you reeling. You wanted to pull away, to scream at him for saying such things after everything he’d done. But something about the way he spoke, the way his eyes searched yours, made you stay.

"No," Sylus said, his gaze softening as he looked at you, his hand still holding yours. "You don’t belong to me. At least…not your heart. I know this. I’ve known it for a long time. But I’m hoping…one day, you’ll see me and…not see a monster."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Sylus—the man who had torn your life apart, who had taken you from everything you knew—was kneeling before you, admitting to his flaws, his mistakes. The tenderness in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you hated how it made your heart clench, how it made you feel something you didn’t want to feel.

"I am far from perfect," he continued, his voice soft and filled with regret. "I know I’ve made my mistakes. I know I’ve hurt you in ways that…can’t be undone. But even if I’m forever chasing your love, I’ll never regret bringing you here the way I did. It was the only way I could ensure your life with me was safe."

Your mind was spinning, struggling to comprehend the weight of his words. How could he say that? How could he sit there, offering you everything, knowing that he had destroyed everything you once were?

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You were too stunned, too overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in his eyes. This wasn’t the cold, calculating man you had come to know. This was someone who, in his own twisted way, genuinely believed that he was protecting you, that he was giving you something better.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Sylus shifted. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out—a small velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat as he opened it, revealing an intricately designed ring. It was striking, a silver band with a dark, rectangular gemstone at its center, surrounded by an elegant vine-like pattern that twisted and intertwined along the sides. Small black stones glimmered against the metal, adding depth to its gothic beauty.

Your breath caught as he took your hand again, his fingers trembling slightly as he held it. The ring was heavy with meaning, and as he slid it onto your finger, the cool silver touching your skin, you felt a strange, sinking sensation in your chest. It was beautiful, but there was something in the weight of it, in the way it encircled your finger, that stirred a mix of emotions—both a mix of confusion and adrenaline.

It fit perfectly. Of course it did.

Sylus knew everything about you—every detail, every aspect of your body. He had studied you, watched you, learned every inch of who you were. This was just another reminder of how deep his control went, how he knew you better than you wanted to admit.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with something so raw, so earnest, it made your throat tighten.

"Will you be my wife?," he whispered, his voice low and thick with emotion. "Marry me, have my baby. And everything is yours. Everything I have, every part of me. My money, my soul, my heart—it’s all yours."

You stared at him, your mind racing, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of the ring on your finger felt suffocating, but the look in his eyes, the way he knelt before you with such open vulnerability, made it impossible to tear yourself away.

You wanted to scream, to tear the ring off and throw it back at him. You wanted to tell him that none of this mattered—that no amount of money, no promises of devotion, could ever erase what he had done to you. To scream about the audacity to ask you to marry him after everything. But the words wouldn’t come. You were frozen, trapped between the anger boiling in your chest and the strange, unwelcome tenderness in his eyes.

For a moment, the two of you sat there, the space between you filled with unspoken emotions. Sylus’s hand lingered on yours, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles as if he were trying to convey everything he couldn’t say aloud.

"I’ll give you the world, sweetie," he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost a plea. "You just have to let me."

And for the first time, you didn’t know what to say.

The ring on your finger felt like another chain, binding you to him in ways you never wanted. But the way he looked at you, the way his eyes pleaded for something more—it made the anger inside you waver, just for a moment.

You stared at Sylus, feeling the air shift between you. For a moment, all you could focus on was the absurdity of what was happening. The man who had turned your life upside down was kneeling in front of you, asking you to marry him. But as the seconds ticked by, the weight of it all began to settle in. The small smile on his face grew as you realized something startling.

He wasn’t joking.

Sylus was serious.

This wasn’t some game, some twisted manipulation to push you further into his control—this was real. He was genuinely offering you a choice. A small one, sure. But a choice nonetheless. The ring on your finger, the sincerity in his eyes—it wasn’t just another part of his plan. He was giving you an opening, a crack in the armor you hadn’t expected to find.

You blinked, your heart racing as the realization hit you. Can I use this?

Your mind began to spin, ideas and possibilities swirling around you. If Sylus really wanted this—if he genuinely wanted you to be with him, to be his wife—then maybe…maybe you could use it to your advantage. Maybe, if you played your cards right, you could turn the tables on him.

Could you pretend? Could you manipulate him, make him believe you were coming around, that you were falling for him? If you played the role well enough, if you made him trust you, maybe you could get closer to freedom. Maybe you could finally escape this nightmare.

Your breath hitched at the thought. The idea of pretending to love him, to be anything but what you truly felt, made your stomach churn. But if it was your only way out, if it meant getting closer to freedom—could you do it?

You studied him for a moment, weighing your options. He wasn’t manipulating you in the way you’d come to expect. He was pushing you to a certain answer, yes, but the sincerity in his eyes was undeniable. For all his control, for all the power he held, he was offering you something—something you could use. The idea sent a small spark of hope through you, a glimmer of possibility in the otherwise suffocating darkness.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, watching you closely, clearly waiting for your response. He was confident, but not in the way that made you feel trapped. He was giving you the space to think, to decide. His face was calm, but there was an anxious look twinkling in his eyes.

It was your move.

“If I say yes…” you began slowly, your voice steady but laced with challenge, “can I start coming outside of this room?”

Sylus blinked, and for the briefest moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes—surprise. He hadn’t expected that. You’d managed to throw him off, if only for a heartbeat. But as quickly as the moment came, it was gone, replaced by the familiar, teasing grin that always made your blood simmer. Only this time, there was something different—less control, more excitement.

“You want to bargain, hm?” His voice was warm, the amusement still there, but it wasn’t manipulative. It was almost…tender, as if he found your attempt at negotiating endearing rather than frustrating.

“How cute.”

Before you could respond, he moved. Standing up, Sylus rose from his kneeling position, his full height looming over you. The sudden shift in power was palpable, and despite the defiance thrumming in your veins, you couldn’t help but feel the space between you shrink, the air thickening with tension.

Sylus took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, but there was no smugness in his expression now. Just a quiet intensity, a soft eagerness that made you realize—he was serious. He wanted this. The idea of you saying yes was something he genuinely wanted, not just some ploy for control. His playful teasing melted away into something deeper, something more real.

“You can only come out when I’m around,” he said softly, his tone gentle but firm. “And when you’re in here, you’ll still wear the chain. I have to protect you, sweetie. But...”

He trailed off, watching your face carefully, waiting for you to absorb his words. Then, he leaned down slightly, bringing himself closer to your level, his eyes never leaving yours. His smile softened, tender now, his excitement barely contained. “But if you accept my proposal, I’ll agree to your terms. You’ll get what you want. You’ll come out of this room more often. I’ll give you that freedom, bit by bit.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. This wasn’t a calculated move on his part—there was no hidden agenda in his eyes, no manipulation lurking in the depths of his voice. He genuinely believed he was offering you something. He believed that this was a fair deal.

He wasn’t just teasing you. He was hopeful. Sylus was hoping you’d say yes, hoping that this—the two of you—could work. The thought was startling. You could use this. He wanted your agreement so badly he was willing to bend. If you played this right, if you acted like you were coming around, you could manipulate him. Slowly. Carefully. Get his guard down, map out the house, and then...escape.

The realization made your pulse quicken, but you kept your face neutral. You couldn’t let him see that flicker of hope now burning inside you. You couldn’t show him your hand.

Sylus, seemingly oblivious to your internal struggle, took another small step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, intimate and sincere. “So, what’ll it be, sweetheart?” His tone was soft, coaxing, but filled with anticipation. “I’ll keep my end of the deal. I’ll give you a little more freedom. You just have to say yes.”

The ring on your finger felt impossibly heavy, the symbol of everything you stood to lose...and maybe, everything you stood to gain. The idea of agreeing to marry him made you feel sick, but the thought of staying locked in this room, with no way out, was worse. If you could use this—if you could pretend to love him, make him believe it—then maybe you could finally have a chance at freedom.

Your throat felt tight, and for a moment, you weren’t sure you could speak. But then, with your heart pounding in your chest, you swallowed your fear.

“I’ll say yes,” you whispered, your voice calm, though your insides were trembling.

Sylus blinked, and for a split second, you saw raw, unfiltered joy flicker across his face. His eyes softened, lighting up with a tender excitement that caught you off guard. He didn’t say anything, didn’t gloat or smirk. Instead, he reached for your hand, his touch gentle as he pulled you just a little closer.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

For a moment, you were frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from him. His tenderness—the way he looked at you—was almost overwhelming. You hadn’t expected this. You’d expected him to gloat, to make some smug comment, but instead, he seemed genuinely... happy.

His fingers lingered on yours, as if he didn’t want to let go, and you could feel the weight of his emotions pressing down on you. This wasn’t a game for him.

And that made your next move all the more dangerous.

“I’m serious, Sylus,” you said softly, pulling your hand away slowly but not forcefully, letting him see your resolve. “If I agree to this, I need to know you’ll give me more. I can’t live like this forever. I need more freedom.”

He watched you carefully, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you thought he might push back. But then, he nodded, his lips pulling into a small, sincere smile.

“I’ll give you what you need, sweetie,” he promised, his voice low and warm. “Your pregnant after all, you can't raise a baby in one room.”

You forced yourself to smile, knowing that this was anything but a cheerful moment for you. But for now, you had to play the part.

You could feel his anticipation thick in the air, almost tangible, his dark eyes locked onto you with that infuriating mix of tenderness and excitement. But you weren’t done yet. No, this was your chance. If you were going to manipulate him, it had to be flawless, it had to be convincing. You had to make him believe that this was real.

"Come closer," you whispered, your voice deliberately softer, almost seductive, as you tilted your head and looked up at him through your lashes. It was an invitation, your eyes pulling him in, baiting him, while you leaned slightly forward.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, the intrigue clear in his expression. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of suspicion in his gaze, as though he were weighing your sudden change in demeanor. Could he sense something? Was he catching on? But then the wariness melted away, replaced by a look of quiet excitement, his features softening. He moved even closer, his posture relaxing as he leaned toward you.

This was the moment. The moment to pull him deeper into the illusion, to make him believe he was winning.

Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you reached up and grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss. His lips were warm against yours, but he didn’t respond immediately. His body stiffened, and in that split second of hesitation, panic surged through you. Had you pushed too far? Did he know you were playing him?

The silence stretched unbearably, the seconds dragging out as fear twisted in your stomach. But then, just as quickly, Sylus seemed to relax, and he kissed you back. The tension drained from his body, and you could feel the relief ripple through him. He believed you.

His lips moved softly against yours, and you realized with growing unease that he was good at this—too good. His hands slid to the sides of your waist, gentle but deliberate, his fingers making their under your nightgown as the kiss continued, in a way that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. You felt the warmth of his skin against yours, and to your horror, you found yourself leaning into him, your body betraying you with a response that wasn’t part of the plan.

This was supposed to be a game—a trick to manipulate him into letting his guard down. But instead, you were getting lost in it. You could feel the kiss deepening, growing more intense, and Sylus was taking his time, savoring it. His lips moved with a kind of hunger that caught you off guard, and his hands, now wandering higher under your nightgown, made your breath catch. A small gasp leaves your lips as he manages to slip his tongue into your mouth, beginning a slippery and lustful dance with your own tongue. A wave of panic hit you as you realized your resolve was slipping. No. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you forced yourself to pull back, breaking the kiss abruptly. Sylus blinked, his face twisting with surprise, but you didn’t give him a chance to react or ask questions. A mixture of two of yall's saliva slid down your chin and you wiped it. You needed to get out of there before you lost control completely.

“I—" you stammered, quickly placing a hand over your stomach, hoping the gesture looked convincing. “I feel like I’m going to throw up dinner.”

The words tumbled out hurriedly, and you could hear the desperation in your own voice, but it didn’t matter as long as Sylus believed it. You watched as his expression immediately shifted, the concern in his eyes growing as he laid a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry.

You nodded, your pulse racing, already halfway to the bathroom. “Yes, I just—I need a minute.” You didn’t wait for his response, rushing toward the bathroom as if you couldn’t get away fast enough. You rushed through the entrance, leaning against the wall for a moment, trying to steady your breathing.

The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, your mind spinning from what had just happened. You barely had time to process it as you quickly knelt in front of the toilet, forcing yourself to make exaggerated retching noises loud enough for him to hear. Your heart was still racing, your lips still tingling from the kiss. You needed to calm down, to think.

“Sweetie? Do you need anything?” Sylus called from the other side of the wall, his concern cutting through the noise in your head. “I’ll see if I can get something for the nausea that’s safe for the baby.”

You leaned over the toilet, trying to mask your deep breaths. “I’ll be fine!” you called out, making sure your voice sounded weak, vulnerable. You forced another fake gag. “I just need a minute.”

You held your breath, waiting to see if he’d come to check on you. Your heart pounded in your ears, half expecting him to walk in, but then you heard the sound of his footsteps retreating. You were alone. Finally.

A slow, genuine smile crept across your face, something dark and satisfying twisting inside you. The kiss had thrown you off, but in the end, it didn’t matter. The plan was still intact. Sylus was buying every second of it, and he had no idea what was coming next.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt powerful again. You had him wrapped around your finger, and he didn’t even know it.

“My turn now, Sylus.” you whispered to yourself, the smile widening as you stared down at the toilet, your heart still racing with the adrenaline of what you’d just done.

Because now? Now you were the one in control.

And Sylus had no idea the storm that was about to descend on him.

Xavier stood at the edge of the city, his hands resting on the cold metal railing of the balcony outside of the Hunter's Association, his eyes fixed on the distant skyline. Linkon looked the same as it always had—its towering buildings and busy streets alive with movement—but to Xavier, the city felt hollow. It was as if everything had lost its meaning the moment you were taken. Nothing seemed real anymore. Not since that day.

His jaw clenched as he stared down at the street below, where people moved about, oblivious to the war that raged inside him. The lie he had been forced to tell weighed heavily on his chest, suffocating him. It gnawed at his conscience, at the very core of who he was.

He had told everyone you were gone. That you had escaped the country, far from reach, that you were safe. He had even given them details—fabricated images of a life where you were living free and happy from the shackles of life. It was all a lie. A lie Sylus had demanded he spread to protect you.

But the truth…the truth burned inside him every second of every day.

You hadn’t just left. You weren’t safe. You were still out there, trapped in Sylus’s grasp, and there wasn’t a damn thing Xavier could do about it. Not without risking your life.

“Fuck.” The word escaped his lips in a low, frustrated growl as he ran a hand through his hair. He had been searching for months, chasing every lead, every whisper that might bring him closer to finding you. All of that work, just to be stopped dead in his tracks by Sylus's threats. Sylus had buried you deep. And with every day that passed, Xavier felt you slipping further away.

The memory of the last message still haunted him—Sylus’s threat, calm and chilling.

"You're going to tell your captain that you saw and talked to your… partner. That she is fine and just felt trapped with work, so she fled to another country. After that, get rid of the SIM card. I will know if you don't. Don't test me."

It had been a warning, clear and direct. A warning Xavier had no choice but to obey. Because as much as he wanted to tear the world apart to find you, to rip Sylus apart piece by piece for what he had done, he couldn’t. Not without endangering your life. And that was something he couldn’t live with.

So he had lied. To Tara, to the captain, to everyone that was worried. They had believed him. Captain Jenna had even told him to pass on the message that you were relieved of your duties. They thought you were free, safe, living a life far away from all of this madness.

It had been weeks now. Weeks of living this lie. Of watching the world go on without you, of everyone around him moving forward, believing the false reality he had constructed. But every day without you felt like another day lost, another day stolen by Sylus. The job continued. His life went on.

But you weren’t there.

And without you, nothing mattered.

Behind him, the door to the balcony creaked open, and Xavier tensed. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Tara. She had been hovering around him for days, concerned but respectful of his space. She didn’t understand—how could she? To her, it looked like you had simply left him, like you had chosen to walk away from everything the two of you had built. To her, it looked like he was mourning the loss of you, mourning the heartbreak of being left behind.

He wasn’t mourning your absence.

He was mourning the fact that he couldn’t save you.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Tara said softly, her footsteps light as she approached. Her voice held that same gentle concern it always did, but today, it made Xavier’s chest ache even more. “I know this has been…hard for you.”

Tara came to stand beside him, leaning her arms on the railing, her gaze sweeping over the city, brown hair swaying in the wind. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the cold wind swirling between them. The air felt heavy, thick with the things they weren’t saying.

Xavier swallowed, his throat tight, his pulse pounding in his ears. He wanted to respond, to say something, but how could he explain any of this to her? She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. Sylus had made sure of that. He wasn’t just protecting you with the lie—he was protecting Tara and everyone else from Sylus’s reach.

Tara sighed, turning her gaze to him. “I miss her too, you know,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. “I thought the two of you were going to make it through anything. And then…she just left. Won't answer my calls or texts either.”

Xavier’s jaw clenched as he tried to keep his emotions in check. He couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t let anyone know that you hadn’t left by choice—that you hadn’t ran—but had been taken. He couldn’t risk Sylus finding out. Not when your life hung in the balance.

“I know,” he muttered finally, his voice rough. It was the only thing he could manage without completely falling apart. He couldn’t lie any more than that right now, not without losing control.

Tara’s eyes softened, her voice gentle. “I still can’t believe she just left like that though. It doesn’t make any sense. She was so in love with you, Xavier. She was my best friend. I mean, maybe…” She hesitated, her brow furrowing in thought. “Maybe one day she’ll come back. People change, you know? Maybe she just needed space.”

Xavier wanted to scream. The idea that you had “just needed space” was so far from the truth it was almost laughable. But he couldn’t correct her. He couldn’t say anything. All he could do was let Tara believe the story he had been forced to tell—the story that you had left, had chosen to disappear from his life, leaving him brokenhearted and searching for closure.

He hated it. Every single second of it.

He turned to face her, trying to hide the rage bubbling beneath the surface. “I hope so,” he said, the words bitter in his mouth. He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t let himself believe anything other than the truth. The truth was that you were still out there, trapped in Sylus’s grasp, and every day that passed was another day you were suffering, another day he wasn’t there to save you.

Tara studied him, her expression soft with sympathy. “You really loved her, didn’t you?” she asked quietly.

Loved. The word twisted like a knife in his chest. He loved you—more than anything. More than anyone could ever know. And yet, here he was, lying to everyone about where you were, letting them believe you were gone. It felt like a betrayal to everything the two of you had shared.

He nodded, but the movement felt hollow, empty. “I still do,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I just wish I understood why,” Tara continued, her gaze drifting back to the city below. “Why she would leave like that. Why she didn’t tell anyone. Maybe…maybe it wasn’t just about you. Maybe she was going through something we didn’t know about.”

Xavier’s stomach twisted, guilt and frustration gnawing at him. You were going through something, but not in the way Tara imagined. You were going through hell—real hell—and no one could save you because they didn’t even know. No one, not even Tara, could see past the lie Sylus had crafted. The thought of how trapped you must feel, how alone, was unbearable.

He turned his back to the railing, staring at the ground as he wrestled with the fury building inside him. “Maybe,” he muttered, unable to say more. The truth was there, threatening to spill out, but he couldn’t afford to let it. Not when Sylus was probably watching.

Tara sighed again, running a hand through her hair. “I guess all we can do is wait. Maybe one day, she’ll pop up!"

Xavier felt like his chest was caving in. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to scream at the absurdity of it all. You weren’t coming back because you hadn’t left in the first place. You hadn’t abandoned him. You hadn’t chosen this. You were a prisoner, and there was nothing he could do to bring you back—nothing without risking your life.

He looked at Tara, forcing a tight smile, though every part of him felt like it was crumbling.

“Yeah….”

The silence stretched between them again, and Xavier felt the weight of it pressing down on him, the burden of carrying this lie suffocating him. How long could he keep this up? How long before he slipped, before someone started asking the wrong questions?

And how long before Sylus pushed him past the point of no return?

Tara gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “I know you’ll be okay. You’re strong, Xavier. Stronger than most people. Just…don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

Xavier nodded, not trusting himself to speak again. He didn’t feel strong. He felt like he was falling apart, piece by piece. The only thing keeping him together was the burning rage that refused to die—the rage that promised he’d find you, no matter what it took.

“I’ll be fine,” he lied, his voice quiet but strained. “Thanks, Tara.”

Tara gave him one last look before nodding and heading back inside, leaving Xavier alone with the howling wind and his shattered thoughts. He leaned against the railing, staring into the distance, his mind racing.

The weight of the lie pressed down on him, suffocating, but the anger beneath it was sharper, fiercer. He couldn’t let this continue. He couldn’t keep pretending you were just gone. Somewhere out there, Sylus had you, and every day that passed, every minute that slipped by, was another moment you were trapped in his clutches.

The day was finally over, though Xavier's body told a different story. Every muscle ached, every wound from the fight with the Wanderers throbbed as a sharp reminder of just how distracted he had been. The blows had landed harder today, his reactions slower, his mind somewhere else—on you. Normally, combat was his escape, the adrenaline pushing out everything except survival. But lately, even the thrill of the fight couldn't drown out the thoughts gnawing at the edges of his mind.

The thought of finally getting some rest was almost too good to believe. Akso Hospital was his next stop. A routine appointment—just a quick check-up, maybe get some medication to help him sleep. God, he needed it. The idea of sleep had become almost foreign to him, though. Xavier had never had trouble sleeping before. But lately...

The nightmares. They wouldn’t stop.

Every time he closed his eyes, you were there. Trapped, terrified, screaming for him to save you. But in the nightmare, no matter how much he willed his body to move, to run to you, he was frozen. Helpless. His legs wouldn’t budge, his hands wouldn’t lift. And then the worst part—the smile. His lips stretched into a cold, unnatural grin as if he was glad you were suffering. It haunted him, the way he could do nothing but smile like some twisted puppet controlled by unseen forces. The helplessness, the horror—it tore at him every night.

Xavier shook his head, forcing the memory away as he arrived at Akso Hospital. The building stood gleaming in the dimming light, its massive glass windows reflecting the fading hues of the evening sky. The hospital seemed almost otherworldly in its perfection, standing untouched by the chaos that raged in his life. The metallic façade shimmered, catching the last glimmers of sunlight, giving the place an almost clinical brilliance.

As he stepped inside, the doors slid open with a quiet whoosh, revealing the sterile, unnaturally bright interior. The floors were spotless, gleaming under the fluorescent lights, so polished that he could almost make out his reflection beneath his boots. The scent of disinfectant was sharp in the air, a smell that brought a strange comfort in its predictability. The atmosphere was calm, orderly—everything Xavier’s mind wasn’t.

He headed toward the waiting area, his footsteps echoing in the sterile silence of the hall. Nurses moved efficiently, their white shoes squeaking softly against the tile as they navigated through the quiet hum of hospital life. After checking in on the holographic panel near the front, Xavier slumped into a chair, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed his hands over his face. He tried to clear his thoughts, but the ever-present gnawing in his chest wouldn't let go. The waiting felt endless, each second dragging painfully.

Finally, the nurse called his name.

“Xavier?” The nurse stood in the doorway, clipboard in hand, her voice pulling him from the fog that had settled over him.

He stood up quickly, brushing off the exhaustion that clung to his limbs, and followed her down the hallway. The halls were lined with doors, each leading to an examination room, and the quiet click of doors opening and closing filled the air with a sterile monotony. Soon, he was led into a small, brightly lit room where Dr. Merrill greeted him with a warm, familiar smile.

“Xavier,” Dr. Merrill said, his voice calm and professional, though tinged with the comfort of someone who had seen him before. The doctor’s movements were quick, practiced, as he reached for his stethoscope.

“Let’s start with your heart and lungs,” Dr. Merrill said, leaning forward as Xavier sat on the edge of the examination table. The cool metal of the stethoscope pressed against Xavier’s chest, the coldness biting into his skin as the doctor listened intently. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration.

The routine check-up was almost comforting in its monotony. Breathe in, breathe out—Xavier’s chest rose and fell rhythmically, the familiar pattern grounding him. Everything was normal. Physically, at least. His heart, his lungs—they were fine. Just like always.

But the silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions. Dr. Merrill stepped back, making a few notes on his clipboard, before he glanced up.

“How are you holding up mentally?” the doctor asked, his voice carefully gentle.

Xavier hesitated, the tightness in his chest returning. He had kept so much of it bottled up for so long, the weight of it pressing down on him like a vice. He could feel the tension rising, the words threatening to spill over.

“Not great,” Xavier admitted, his voice low. “I’ve been…having trouble sleeping.”

Dr. Merrill’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a quiet understanding. “That’s not surprising, considering the work you’re involved in. A lot of people in your position go through this. Stress can really do a number on the mind.”

He paused, studying Xavier’s face more closely. “Are you having nightmares?”

Xavier nodded slowly, feeling the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. “Yeah. Every night. They won’t stop.”

Dr. Merrill leaned back against the counter, his gaze never leaving Xavier’s. “It sounds like you’re dealing with a lot more than just a lack of sleep. Nightmares are tough. And constant nightmares… they can take a toll.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly. “I can relate. Between the hospital and traveling for home visits outside of Linkon, I’m not sleeping much either. Sometimes I wonder why I decided to get into gynecology on top of being a general practitioner.”

Xavier offered a weak chuckle, though it felt forced. “Yeah, I guess we’re both running on fumes.”

Dr. Merrill smiled sympathetically. “I’ll prescribe you some sleeping tablets. Take them as directed—they should help ease you into a better sleep pattern. Hopefully, that’ll help with the nightmares, too.”

The doctor scribbled on a prescription pad before tearing it off and handing it to Xavier. The small slip of paper felt heavy in his hand, as though it held more weight than just medication. He stared at it for a moment before slipping it into his pocket.

“Thanks, docter,” Xavier muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I appreciate it.”

“Take care of yourself, Xavier,” Dr. Merrill said with a nod, his tone kind but firm. “You need to look after your health to keep fighting those wanderers!”

Xavier offered a small nod in return before making his way out of the examination room. The visit had been routine, and yet, that sense of unease still clung to him, wrapping around his chest like a vice. Nothing in his life felt routine anymore.

As he headed toward the exit, a sudden urge hit him. Damn it, he needed to use the bathroom. His steps quickened as he spotted the restroom signs. Thankfully to have found them quickly he rushed in and did his business. He exited the bathroom, wanting to hurry before the pharmacy closed, but as he passed the break room, he stopped. Voices. Familiar ones.

He froze.

It was Dr. Merrill, speaking in hushed tones with someone else. Dr. Zayne. Xavier recognized him—a surgeon, dark hair, sharp features, hazel greenish eyes that always seemed to be assessing everything. He was the top surgeon at the hospital despite being so young. Their voices were low, barely audible, but Xavier strained to hear them. Something about their conversation gripped him, holding him in place.

“Yeah, it was a bit sad,” Dr. Merrill was saying, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of concern. “The girl didn’t seem all that excited. I’m supposed to go back in a few months for another check-up.”

Dr. Zayne’s response was quiet but curious. “Maybe she’s just nervous?”

Dr. Merrill let out a soft laugh. “Maybe. But honestly, it felt like she was acting like she was forced to be there. Felt bad for the husband.”

Xavier’s heart stopped. Forced? His mind raced, panic surging through his veins like fire. No. He swallowed hard, his body going cold as the words replayed in his head. Could they be talking about you?

He stiffened, every instinct screaming at him that something wasn’t right. His pulse thundered in his ears, his body frozen in place. Were they talking about you? They had to be. It was too much of a coincidence. He strained to hear better but the began speaking even quieter. Was there a way he could sneak in without them noticing and listen?

Just then, the door to the break room opened, and the two doctors nearly collided with Xavier. He stumbled back, forcing a smile as he muttered a quick apology. Dr. Merrill brushed it off with a nod, unaware of the storm raging behind Xavier’s eyes, and walked away, leaving the hospital as his shift ended.

Xavier stood there, rooted to the spot, his mind spinning wildly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t a coincidence. The pieces were falling into place, and the conversation he had overheard only confirmed what he feared deep down.

There was something more—something hidden—beneath the surface of their words.

His jaw clenched as he turned and strode out of the building. He didn’t even think as he made his way to his car, his hand already reaching for the gun he kept safely stashed under the seat. His fingers curled around the weapon, the cool metal grounding him as his mind raced. He waited until Dr. Merrill started the engine in his own car before following behind him.

This was crazy. Had he lost his mind? Threatening his doctor for possible information?

Maybe.

Or maybe—just maybe—he’d gotten another lead after all. And he wasn’t about to waste it.

Xavier's fingers tightened around the grip of his gun, the cold metal sending a shiver up his spine. He sat in the driver's seat of his car, his mind still reeling from the overheard conversation. His heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He knew that what he’d heard wasn’t just some random exchange—it couldn’t be. It was too specific. Too familiar. His gut told him they had been talking about you, and Xavier had learned to trust his instincts.

His hands were steady as he checked the chamber of his weapon, the soft click of the slide bringing him a fleeting sense of calm. He wasn’t sure where Dr. Merrill was headed, but if there was even the slightest chance that this lead would bring him closer to you, he had to follow it. He couldn’t afford to hesitate.

He started the car, the engine roaring to life as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot, his eyes scanning the road ahead for Dr. Merrill’s vehicle. His pulse raced, the tension building with every second. He’d waited too long, spent too many sleepless nights wondering where you were, replaying the last time he’d seen you over and over again in his mind. And now, finally, there was something—something tangible that might lead him to you.

As he turned onto the main road, his gaze locked on the back of Dr. Merrill’s car, just ahead of him. He kept his distance, careful not to draw attention. His mind was a whirlwind of possibilities—questions he didn’t have answers to yet, but he was determined to find out.

What did he know? The thought clawed at his chest, threatening to choke him with the weight of it.

Dr. Merrill’s car turned onto a narrow, dimly lit street, heading toward the outskirts of Linkon. The city lights began to fade as they left the busier part of town behind, the roads becoming quieter, more desolate. Xavier felt his breath catch as they moved further away from the familiar streets, the looming possibility that you could be close gnawing at him with every passing second.

His mind kept circling back to the words Dr. Merrill had said: She didn’t seem excited. Felt like she was acting like she was forced to be there. His blood boiled at the idea that you had been forced into anything...what did that mean? You didn't seem excited about what? And Sylus…Sylus had to be the cause, right? The rage that simmered beneath the surface flared up again, a dark heat burning through him.

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he followed Dr. Merrill from a safe distance, his mind racing with the possibility that this man held the key to finding you. He couldn’t afford to lose him now. Not when he was this close. As the doctor’s car turned off the main road and entered a quiet, suburban street, Xavier tightened his grip on the steering wheel, making sure to keep his car far enough back to avoid suspicion.

Dr. Merrill’s car eventually pulled into the driveway of a modest-looking house. It was a quiet, unassuming neighborhood—exactly the kind of place where secrets could be hidden in plain sight. Xavier parked a few houses down, waiting for the doctor to get out of his car before he stepped out of his own, slipping into the shadows like a predator closing in on its prey.

His hand hovered over the gun tucked securely into his holster, the weight of it grounding him, giving him focus. He couldn’t afford to let emotion cloud his judgment—not yet. He had to approach this carefully, methodically. Dr. Merrill had information. Information that could lead him to you. And Xavier wasn’t about to let him slip through his fingers.

He moved quickly and silently, his years of training guiding him as he made his way toward the doctor’s house. The door had barely shut behind Dr. Merrill when Xavier was already there, pressing himself against the side of the house as he glanced through the window. The lights inside were dim, the faint glow of a lamp illuminating the living room.

Dr. Merrill had settled into a chair, completely unaware of the danger closing in on him.

Xavier slipped around the side of the house, his pulse quickening as he found the back door unlocked. He pushed it open with practiced ease, slipping inside without making a sound. The house was eerily quiet, the ticking of a clock the only noise that broke the silence. Every step he took was careful, calculated. His eyes scanned the room for anything that might give him an edge.

And then he saw him. Dr. Merrill, seated with a cup of tea in hand, oblivious to the storm brewing in the shadows.

Xavier’s breath was steady as he approached, the gun drawn, his footsteps silent on the hardwood floor. He closed the distance between them in an instant, and before Dr. Merrill could even register his presence, Xavier was behind him, pressing the cold barrel of the gun against the back of the doctor’s head.

“Don’t move,” Xavier growled, his voice low and lethal.

Dr. Merrill froze, the cup of tea slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor. His breath hitched as the realization of what was happening sank in. He didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare make a sound.

Xavier leaned in closer, his grip on the gun tightening. “Tell me what you know,” he demanded, his voice cold and controlled. “Or your brains will be all over this room.”

Dr. Merrill’s body trembled, his voice barely a whisper. “X-Xavier? What the—”

“I don’t want explanations,” Xavier cut him off, pressing the gun harder against his skull. “I want answers. Where is she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Xavier snapped, his patience wearing thin. “I heard you. I know you saw her. Now, you’re going to tell me everything, or I’ll blow your head off right here. No one will find you for days.”

Dr. Merrill swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He could feel the gun pressing into his skin, the cold weight of it a constant reminder that his life hung in the balance. He took a shaky breath, his mind racing for a way out. But there was no way out. Not with Xavier standing behind him, not with that murderous rage in his voice.

“I don’t…I don’t know where she is exactly,” Dr. Merrill stammered, his voice shaking. “I—I’ve only seen her for one checkup. Sylus… Sylus is the one who—"

Xavier stiffened at the sound of Sylus’s name. He had been right. He had followed his gut at it had been correct.

"Don’t say his name,” Xavier hissed, his teeth gritted as he leaned closer. “Tell me what you know about her condition. What has that bastard done to her?"

Dr. Merrill swallowed again, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“I—I can’t,” Dr. Merrill whispered, his voice barely audible now, as if the words were being forced out of him against his will. “You don’t understand…If I say anything…Sylus will—”

“I don’t care what Sylus will do to you,” Xavier snapped, cutting him off sharply. “You should be more worried about what I’m going to do if you don’t start talking. Now, where. Is. She?”

Dr. Merrill swallowed hard, a small, terrified whimper escaping him as his thoughts raced. His whole body shook under the weight of Xavier’s threat, but the shadow of Sylus loomed larger, darker. “I can’t…” he whispered again, shaking his head. “I can’t tell you. If Sylus finds out I told you anything, he’ll do worse than just kill me. You don't know him like I do."

The doctor was shaking visibly now, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “He…he…” Dr. Merrill’s voice trailed off, his terror palpable. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Couldn't say much more. Not because he didn’t want to, but because the fear of Sylus’s retribution was overwhelming.

Xavier’s finger twitched on the trigger, his own frustration boiling over. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, and the thought of you suffering while he was stuck here playing this game only made his blood burn hotter. He needed answers. Now.

“Listen to me,” Xavier said, his voice low but laced with a deadly calm. “You think I'm joking?”

Dr. Merrill’s voice cracked as he tried to respond, the fear of Sylus warring with the fear of the gun pressed to his head. “She’s relatively fine. She didn't look hurt,” he managed, his voice shaking. "But I can’t say more. I can’t. Please, if I tell you—”

Xavier leaned in even closer, his lips curled in a snarl. “You’d rather be afraid of him than me? Even with a gun to your head?”

The doctor didn’t answer, too paralyzed by fear, and Xavier hesitated for a moment, his finger on the trigger, his thoughts racing. He could kill him. He could end this right here. But would that get him closer to you? Would that get him the information he needed? The doctor was scared—scared of Sylus, scared of what might happen if he revealed too much.

Xavier took a deep breath, his chest tightening as he stepped back slightly, easing the pressure of the gun. He didn’t want to kill Merrill, not really. But he needed something, some leverage to get to you. His mind worked quickly, formulating a plan.

“Fine. You don’t have to tell me everything,” Xavier said, his voice quieter now but no less dangerous. “But you’re going to help me. You’re going to get me closer to her.”

Dr. Merrill stayed frozen, his body still trembling as he dared to look over his shoulder. “H-How…?”

Xavier’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Lie to Sylus. Tell him it’s urgent. Tell him you think something might be wrong and you need to check her in person. I'm going to stow away in the back of your car, and when you go inside, I'm going to find a way in.”

Dr. Merrill’s eyes widened, panic flashing in them. “He will find ou—”

“He won’t,” Xavier interrupted, his voice cold and unyielding. “If you play this right, he won’t have any reason to suspect anything. You’ve done it before. Set up an appointment. Make it believable. Say you need to run more tests, whatever you have to. I’ll follow and take it from there.”

Dr. Merrill’s breath came in shallow gasps, his fear still tangible, but he could see that Xavier wasn’t giving him a choice. His eyes darted between the gun and Xavier’s face, searching for any sign of mercy.

But there was none.

“Call him now,” Xavier ordered, the gun still steady in his hand.

Dr. Merrill’s hands trembled as he reached for his phone, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He dialed the number, his voice barely steady as he waited for Sylus to pick up.

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest as he listened, every muscle in his body tense, his ears straining to catch every word.

“Sylus?” Dr. Merrill said, his voice shaking. “It’s…it’s Dr. Merrill. I, um…I think there might be something wrong. With the-I mean, I…I need to see her again, in person. It’s urgent. I want to make sure I didn't miss anything.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and Xavier’s hand twitched on the trigger, his eyes locked on Merrill.

Finally, Sylus’s voice crackled through the phone, calm but dangerous. “Is that so? Very well. Come by tomorrow around 9 am.”

Hearing Sylus's voice ignited an anger in Xavier's heart so big he nearly grabbed the phone from the doctor, still he kept quiet, even trying not to breathe so loud as to not tip off Sylus that someone else was there.

The call ended, and Dr. Merrill let out a shaky breath, his hand still gripping the phone tightly as he looked up at Xavier with wide, terrified eyes.

“It’s done,” Dr. Merrill whispered, his voice barely audible. "I did what you asked..."

Xavier didn’t lower his gun just yet. He stared down at Dr. Merrill, his expression hard, unreadable, as if deciding whether or not to trust him.

“You better hope you’re telling the truth,” Xavier said quietly, his voice thick with menace. “Because if you’re lying to me—if this is a trap—I’ll make sure Sylus never gets the chance to kill you.”

Dr. Merrill nodded quickly, his body trembling with fear. “I swear, I’m not lying. I did what you asked.”

Xavier hesitated for another moment, his eyes locked on Merrill, before finally stepping back and lowering his gun. He didn’t holster it, though. Not yet. He wasn’t done.

“You’ll take me there,” Xavier said, his tone flat. “And you’ll make sure she’s safe when I get her out. Do you understand?”

Dr. Merrill nodded again, his face pale, his entire body trembling. “I understand.”

Xavier glanced toward the door, his mind already moving to the next step. He was getting closer—closer to finding you, closer to ending this nightmare. He wasn’t going to stop now.

Without another word, he turned and headed toward the door, the tension still crackling in the air between them. As he reached the threshold, he cast one final glance over his shoulder at Dr. Merrill.

“Pray that you’re telling the truth,” Xavier warned, his voice low and deadly. “Because if you’re not, there won’t be enough left of you for Sylus to recognize.”

And with that, Xavier disappeared into the night, his heart pounding with the promise of what was to come.

He was going to find you.

And nothing—not Sylus, not fear, not anything—was going to stop him. He didn’t care about Sylus’s stupid threats in this moment. He would bring you home before Sylus ever layed a finger on you.

[curawrites]

Potter

Slytherin boys (separate) x fem! Potter!reader

Slytherin boys: Draco Malfoy, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire, and Blaise Zabini.

Warnings: forbidden romance?, swearing, smoking, alcohol, partying, horny teens, probably incorrect body shots.

Note: got back into Harry Potter and fell into the Slytherin boy rabbithole hole💚

Backstory:

You used to be very close to your twin brother. But your relationship changed for the worst during your first year at Hogwarts.

While Harry had been sorted into Griffindor, you had been sorted into Slytherin.

The both of you had tried to keep your relationship intact, but the rivalry between your two houses made it practically impossible.

By fourth year, you and Harry were practically strangers, and uninvolved with each other’s lives…

Draco Malfoy

In fourth year, Draco decided to ask you out to the Yule Ball. Mainly to piss off Harry.

He swaggered up to you in the courtyard and asked you very loudly in front of a lot of people, including Harry, of course!

“Heard you didn’t have a date for the ball, Potter.” He said with a smirk, “You want to be my date?”

You eyed him suspiciously before answering, “Sure, why not Malfoy.”

Didn’t expect for you to actually accept.

Low key freaking out internally.

Thought you’d just tell him to piss off.

He’s very smug about it on the outside tho.

Especially when he sees Harry fuming on the side lines with Ron and Hermione.

He then escorts you to class like the gentleman he was taught to be.

“Don’t get an ideas Malfoy. I’m only going with you to piss off my brother.” You told him as you entered potions.

“Same here, Potter.” He rolls his eyes a bit.

Glad you have the same idea but also a bit disappointed that you’re only using him.

But he’s also using you so-

When it came time for the ball, Draco was waiting for you by the stairs. Mattheo and Blaise were waiting with him.

He couldn’t lie, he was a tad nervous. Fixing his hair every 2.5 seconds to the annoyance of his friends.

“Does my hair look good?” He asked for the billionth time.

“Your hair is fine mate! Why do you even care so much it’s just Potter.” Mattheo rolled his eyes at the blond.

“It’s not about her!” Draco hissed, “..I just want to look good!” He answered semi confidently.

A few moments later you appeared and began walking down the stairs.

Draco looked at you in awe. You looked stunning all dolled up, your hair was curled and pinned up in an intricate hairdo, and the dark green dress you were wearing fitted you perfectly.

You glanced at Draco every few steps as you descended the stairs, admiring him from afar. You couldn’t lie, he looked dashing in his suit.

Blaise and Mattheo snickered behind him, shoving him forward to make him help you down the stairs.

“You look nice.” Draco said awkwardly.

“Thank you, you don’t look half bad yourself.” You responded, taking his hand as you walked down the rest of the steps.

“You cleaned up nice, Potter.” Mattheo teased.

“Shut it, Riddle.” You rolled your eyes at him.

Draco escorted you to the punch table to have a drink before you had your first dance.

When you started dancing you were both very stiff and awkward, but as the night went on you became much more natural with each other.

You and Draco went on to have a nice evening. Making show of your “relationship” by calling each other by your first names and dancing together for the majority of the evening.

When the ball finally ended, you and Draco returned to the Slytherin common room together.

“I actually enjoyed myself tonight Draco.” You admitted with a smile.

“I did to, Y/n. We should do it more often.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “In your dreams, Draco.” You chuckled before to go to your dorm.

Leaving him standing in the common room, with his heart beating a few beats faster…

Mattheo Riddle

FORBIDDEN ROMANCE OMG

You both kept your distance from each other for a long while.

You didn’t want to associate with the son of the man who killed your parents.

And Mattheo didn’t give a crap about you.

You only began to associate with each other in fifth year when you became friends with Lorenzo.

Which lead to you being included into the Slytherin gang.

You decided to put your differences aside for the sake of your friend.

You’re not super close with many of them, Mattheo included.

But you have a sort of playful relationship.

You guys banter SO MUCH!

Whether it’s insulting each other or sometimes being flirty.

Harry is SIDE EYEING y’all from across the great hall.

You find Mattheo insufferable in a weird endearing way.

Sixth year hit and you’ve decided to start living it up by attending parties with the gang.

Ravenclaw had beat Hufflepuff in quidditch which made the perfect excuse to throw a party.

You and Pansy had spent the evening getting ready together in your dorm.

“We look hot~” you commented while admiring her and yourself in your full body mirror.

“We do~ Now let’s go-“ Pansy grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the dorm.

Once at the party, you had a drink to ease your nerves before you decided to join the growing circle of people playing spin the bottle. Many of your friends were sat, including Lorenzo, Mattheo, and Theo.

You sat yourself beside Lorenzo, “What are we spinning the bottle for?” You asked, almost yelling over the music.

“Body shots!” Lorenzo smirked at you playfully.

“Fun!” You grinned.

Eventually Mattheo’s turn came and the bottle landed on you. Gasps and ooos filled the circle, making you scoff. Mattheo only grinned as he grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey and a shot glass.

Ron and Hermione had to hold back Harry from causing a scene.

“C’mere, Y/n~” Mattheo smirked, motioning you over.

You rolled your eyes and walked over to him, all while he unbuttoned his shirt.

You got on your knees in front of him, squeezing your thighs together as you cunt throbbed at the sight of his bare chest.

Mattheo smirked down, “Ready?” Once you nodded he poured the alcohol down his bare torso.

You didn’t hesitate to begin licking all of the liquor off his torso, savouring the way the fire whiskey burned down your throat.

Mattheo couldn’t stop himself from getting hard at the sight of you on your knees for him staring up at him with lusty half lidded eyes. It made him feel things he knew he shouldn’t feel towards.

The crowd wooed and whistled as you finished licking his chest having made sure to not miss a drop.

“Thanks for the shot, Matty~” you purred, winking at him, your cheeks equally as red as his.

You got up from your knees and returned to your spot beside Lorenzo. Once sat, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down.

You hadn’t expected to have gotten so turned on. It felt so wrong to be attracted to Mattheo.. but you couldn’t help yourself when all you could think about was his dark lustful gaze…

Theodore Nott

You and Theodore became friends in first year.

Theodore was a bit of a loner, like yourself so you got along right away.

Because of this, you always paired up together in your classes.

Especially in potions which you both excel at. Unlike your brother, you inherited your mother’s potions skills.

You guys have definitely have bonded over dead moms/parents.

In fifth year you both became more acquainted with Draco and his gang.

It brought you guys out of your shells.

And further ruined your relationship with your brother but you didn’t really care.

You had Theo by your side and that’s all that mattered.

Although you’re “just friends” there’s definitely feelings at play.

Seeing everyone around you get into relationships made you yearn for one yourself.

Since you’re so close with Theo already you couldn’t help but think about being with him.

He’s such a pretty boy, with his hazel eyes, dirty blond hair and Italian accent.

Theodore had a little thing for you phase in third year.

He considers it a phase but the feelings never truly left.

The both of you are way to afraid to confess to each other in fear of ruining your friendship and of the retaliation from your families.

It was a Friday night and the gang had decided to sneak out of the castle to go swimming in the Black Lake.

Somehow the whole gang managed to bypass Filch and Mrs. Norris, even though the lot of you were giggling loudly at each other.

Once out of the main doors, you all ran to the rocky shores of the lake and spread out all of your towels.

Theo sat down and lit up a cigarette with Mattheo, while you took off your (Theo’s) shirt and your pj pants. Revealing your tiny bikini.

Mattheo wolf whistled at you, “Looking good Potter~” he teased.

“Fuck off Riddle-“ you said playfully and rolled your eyes at him.

“Shut it.” Theo muttered to Mattheo as he took a drag of his cigarette.

Mattheo looked at him, a grin spreading on his face, “What was that, Theo? You jealous or something? Don’t like me talking to your girl?”

“I’m not.” Theo denied as he watched you get into the water with Lorenzo, Pansy, and Draco.

He avoided Mattheo’s gaze to look at you and the others in the water.

Theo clenched his jaw as he observed you and Draco play in the water. Jealousy bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

“Sure you are.” Mattheo scoffed unconvinced.

“Fuck off-“ Theo shoved Mattheo lightly.

He took another deep drag of his cigarette in an attempt to ease his nerves.

“Theo!” You called from the water, “Stop smoking and get in the water!” You grinned joyfully at him.

Theo could feel his heart skip a beat at your radiant smile.

“Theo come on!” You called out again.

“Alright alright, bella-“ He chuckled before putting out his cigarette and getting up.

He took off his shirt and jogged towards the water.

You giggled and grabbed his arm to pull him the rest of the way.

There was no way he could let Draco have you…

Lorenzo Berkshire

Lorenzo has prided himself in his academics.

He has good grades in all of his classes.

Except in history of magic. He’s actually failing the class.

Look it isn’t his fault! Professor Binns is just such a bore.

Seeing as Lorenzo was failing, Professor Binns assigned you, Y/n Potter as his tutor.

Lorenzo was pretty happy about having a cute girl tutoring him.

You’ve intrigued him since first year but he’s never had the chance to talk to you.

But now he sees you twice a week for tutoring.

And honestly you don’t get much tutoring done.

Lorenzo is just so engaging and interesting that you just forget about what you’re there to do.

“Merlin, Lorenzo! We need to focus!” You giggled as you realized how much time you spent conversing.

“Oops!” He giggled.

You found yourself easily charmed by the boy. He was very refreshing to hang out with.

He wasn’t like the other Slytherins who gave you the cold shoulder and looked at you sideways.

Exams were in a week and Lorenzo desperately needed your tutoring if he wanted to pass history of magic.

You both decided to increase the amount of tutoring you’d be doing per week in preparation.

It was the day before exams started and your last day of tutoring.

You made the plan to study in his dorm instead of the library as you found the latter to busy. Lorenzo made sure to kick out his roommates and clean up his area in preparation.

You met up in his dorm after class and wasted no time in taking out all of your notes and textbooks out.

“Ok, Lorenzo.” You said sternly. “No more funny business we need to focus.” You sat on his bed.

He sat in front of you, nodding in agreement, “I really need to pass this exam or my dad will kill me.” He said and got his own notes out.

“Alright. I’m going to quiz you on some stuff. Look over your notes and tell me when you’re ready.” You instructed as you organized a few papers.

Lorenzo nodded and began looking over his notes, desperately trying to not get distracted at the thought that you, a cute girl was in his dorm and sitting on his bed.

“Okay I think I’m ready.” He announces after a few minutes and put his notes to the side.

“Okay… question one..” you began.

You quizzed Lorenzo for the next half hour. He was truly trying his best. What motivated him the most was the praise you gave him after each right answer.

“Good job!” “Atta boy!” “You’re doing great!” “That’s right!”

Every single one gave him butterflies.

Eventually he managed to get all of them right.

“You got every single question right!” You exclaimed with a big grin, “ Well done! I’m sure you’re going to pass!”

“You really think?” He smiled shyly.

“Of course!” You said reassuringly.

You checked your watch, you had finished your quizzing just on time.

You began to pack up your stuff, ready to head back to your dorm to do some studying of your own.

“Thank you, for all of the tutoring.” Lorenzo thanked as he helped you.

“It’s no problem at all, you’re fun to tutor.” You admit shyly, “Good luck on your exam.” You bided him before leaving.

Lorenzo watched you leave, making a note to himself to ask you out on a date after exams..

Blaise Zabini

You and Blaise got paired up for a project in potions once.

You both weren’t thrilled because you didn’t really get along.

At least you weren’t paired up with Seamus.

And in a way it worked out well for Blaise because he didn’t have to partner up with any of his idiot friends and have to do all of the work.

You did so well on the project together that Professor Slughorn decided to continue paring you guys up.

Hanging out with Blaise was now unavoidable.

Your interactions went from uninterested, cold and limited to being much more frequent and nicer.

Being much friendlier to each other also helped you work even better together.

“Hey, Zabini? How do you cut these roots again?” You asked quietly, glancing over at him.

“Oh you cut them in half and then..” he leaned over to help you.

You couldn’t help but be shy about the close proximity between you two.

He was close enough that you could smell his piney aftershave and his minty breath.

Not to mention his voice was so deep and smooth as he talked.

You snapped quickly out of it and focused back on what he was saying.

“Oh right. Thanks.” You thanked him and proceeded to cut the ingredient as he instructed.

“S’no prob.” He said, hesitating before leaving your side.

Since you were already doing so much work together, it was easier to just study together as well.

This resulted in you two spending more time together.

The library became you main hangout spot.

Away from his annoying friends who always burst into his dorm asking stupid questions just for the sake of bothering you two.

“Do you understand what question 8 means? I completely forgot what Professor Bins said about it.” Blaise asked, furrowing his brows with a sigh.

“Uh let me see..” you leaned over to read his parchment.

While you muttered the question to yourself, Blaise couldn’t help but stare at your focused face.

You looked cute, bitting your cheeks as you played with a strand of your curly hair. He could tell you had just washed it because you smelled strongly of lavender.

“Um I just wrote down this…” you sat up and grabbed your parchment.

You guys only considered yourselves acquaintances.

Yeah you found each other attractive.

You’re both attractive people after all and you were just acknowledging the obvious ok?

You two truly were oblivious idiots who couldn’t realize you had crushes on each other.

You were headed to what you thought would be another ordinary potions class.

You sat down beside Blaise and took out all your supplies, ready for whatever Professor Slughorn was going to make you guys brew.

After a bit of waiting, Slughorn began his lesson. “Today, we will be learning about Amortentia. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

Hermione shot up her hand eager to answer.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Slughorn picked her.

“It’s a love potion sir.” She answered

“Corrected, ten points for Griffindor!” Professor Slughorn grinned.

He went on about the lesson, talking about the potion’s history and the risk involved with brewing it and its results.

“Now that we’re done with the lesson, I invite you all to come up and smell this batch of Amortentia I brewed just for this class.” Slughorn said enthusiastically.

You watched as your classmates went up and smelled the potion.

It was amusing seeing how many answered with a stutter and returned to their seats with reddened cheeks.

Finally it was your turn and you had no idea what you would smell.

You leaned down to take a deep inhale of the potion and the overhwhelming sent of Pine and mint flooded your senses.

“And what do you smell Miss Potter?” Your Professor asked.

You hesitated before speaking, “Pine and mint sir.” You answered.

Then the realization hit you and your eyes grew wide.

You smelled Blaise.

You blushed in embarrassment and kept your head down as you walked back to your desk.

“Who did you smell?” Blaise asked you curiously.

Before you could give him a half assed answer you were interrupted.

“Mr Zabini! Your turn!” Professor Slughorn announced.

Blaise got up from his seat and approached the potion.

It took a few smells for him to realize what he was smelling wasn’t your scent lingering on him. The potion itself smelled like lavender.

The gears in his head began to turn and it all began to fit. He smelled your shampoo.

He felt his cheeks heat up a bit from embarrassment and he quickly glanced at you.

Class was going to be very interesting…

[papercorgiworld]

Pansy’s interrogation

Theodore Nott and Mattheo Riddle

Weird behaviour and rumours have Pansy asking questions and figuring out who the guys are crushing on.

Warning: Mattheo says a foul thing.

I feel like I’m spamming tumblr with unasked for fic’s, like I’m anxious that I’m bothering everyone, but at the same time: here’s another unasked for fic. Also, English is not my first language and this is not proofread, so feedback is very welcome.

For more interrogations: click here

For more Theodore: click here

For more Mattheo: click here

Theodore Nott

“Rumor has it you are tutoring first years?” Pansy sits down next to Theodore with a cup of tea in her hand, carefully stirring. Theo growls, he knew this was coming, he knew Hogwarts was notoriously fast when it came down to gossip, but it hadn’t even been a day. Pansy raises her eyebrows, her way of saying ‘spill it, I want to know’.

“So?” Theo simply shrugs trying to downplay it and thereby hoping to avoid spilling his hidden agenda.

“Not really your thing, is it Notty-boy?” Pansy playfully ruffles through Theo’s hair. He immediately gets her hand out of his hair and tries to comb it back to its regular mess with his fingers. “It earns Slytherin points.” Theo finally explains when his hair is remodeled.

“Earning Slytherin points?” The girl huffed, clearly not falling for his excuse. “If you really cared about our house points you would start attending class, stop doing drugs and getting caught, and you would keep Riddle out of fights instead of getting him into more fights.”

Theodore frowned and forced his lips into a line. “Keep Riddle out of fights, who do you think I am, the pope?!” Pansy shakes her head. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

Theo looks away and feels saved when he sees Draco approaching them with his usual dramatic walk. He should be enough distraction for Pansy. “Theo, I heard you’re tutoring first years?” Right. How could I forget, he’s Hogwarts' second biggest gossip.

Enzo joins the group now that the entire common room knows Theo is a tutor thanks to Draco. “Really?” Enzo quips and Theodore simply nods. “(Y/n) must be so pleased that you’re helping out with her tutoring project. She had trouble finding capable and willing volunteers.”

Draco huffs at Enzo’s oblivious reaction. “Theo is so whipped for (y/n).” Pansy mouths an OMG at Theo who immediately realizes he will never hear the end of this.

Suddenly Blaise and Mattheo arrive. “Mate, you tutoring first years?” Mattheo asks, ignoring everyone else and with a very confused expression. Theo sighs and lets himself sink in the sofa, wishing it would swallow him. “If you’re tutoring? Why don’t you help me?” Blaise adds a little offended.

“Apparently, Theo is only doing this to earn points… with (y/n).” Pansy explains with an unmistakable grin on her face. Theodore rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling for a moment. I need a smoke. And new friends.

Mattheo Riddle

Pansy flops down next to Mattheo who up until then was enjoying his quiet time lounging on his favorite couch in the Slytherin common room. Mattheo doesn’t recognise Pansy’s presence and simply continues reading his book.

Pansy’s smirk grows wide, she’as already enjoying herself and she hasn’t even started interrogating her victim yet. She turns herself to face Mattheo’s side and dominantly places her arm on the back of the couch behind him. Now he’s closed in the game begins.

“I hear it’s been a while since you’ve had a shag?” Annoyance fills Mattheo’s eyes as he stops reading just to stare in front of him.

“I’m assuming everything *pansy gestures to everything between his legs* is still working fine. So… No luck on the market ?” Mattheo’s eyes roll to the corner of his eyes to stare at Pansy.

“Pans, don’t.” Mattheo returns his gaze back to his book.

“You must get frustrated? Getting no release.” A heavy breath leaves Mattheo’s chest. He really didn’t like it when Pansy played her games.

“Oh, but he has plenty of Willing Witches magazines. He gets by.” Blaise jumps to take a seat on the couch opposite of Mattheo and Pansy, spreading his arms to take up the whole couch. Mattheo’s jaw clenches clearly not amused by his friend's humor. When Pansy giggles, Mattheo can’t help but feel exposed and blush a little.

“Why do you care?” Mattheo finally breaks, giving Pansy his full attention.

“I want to know why you’ve been playing boring at every single party for the last few months. Girls talk, you know.” Mattheo rolls his eyes. “Girls talk? Wow, that’s news.” His sarcasm had a poisonous undertone.

“If the guy wants to be on his best behavior, let him, Pans.” Blaise cuts in, attempting to get Pansy off Mattheo’s case.

“Why? Why are you suddenly done with manwhoring about?” As every part of Mattheo’s body tensed, Pansy threw a quick glance over to Blaise to affirm her suspicion: she was onto something.

Acting quick and avoiding a witty or snappy comeback from Mattheo, Pansy moved a little closer to Mattheo. She let her head fall to the side and put up an innocent face. “Are you trying to impress someone?” Mattheo’s dark eyes shot at hers. “Ah, that also explains why you’ve been attending classes more often.” She added enjoying how the puzzle pieces were falling together. “And, it’s been a while since you’ve had detention for fighting. Oh please, don’t tell me, are you trying to convince (y/n) that you’re a good boy?!”

As soon as Mattheo heard your name his face went from cold and annoyed to shocked and horrified. It lasted only for a second, his dead eyes were even more furious than before. “Pansy. If it ain’t for sucking dick then I advise you keep your mouth shut. Now, go bother someone else.”

Pansy was used to harsh language, but Mattheo’s denigrating tone made her tense. “I wonder what (y/n) will think about your foul mouth.” Pansy got up, pleased now that she knew what made Mattheo tick. Mattheo on the hand was frustrated that he led himself get played by Pansy’s games like this.

[ellecdc]

hii!! i saw that ur requests were open and i was like omgomgomg. i was wondering if you could do poly!jegulus x reader (in ravenclaw/hufflepuff) and its like the cliche tie switch type of thing where they all end up with eachothers tie colours (like james gets a green tie, reg gets a blue tie, and reader gets a red tie). and omg pls feel free to ignore this ik its an odd one. anywhosies i love your fics !! you truly have such a talent for writing :)

soooo cute hehehe, thanks for your request! hope I did the trope justice <3

poly!jegulus x fem!reader who all swap ties [819 words]

CW: somewhat secret relationship (at least James' involvement), accidental outing of that relationship, reader is portrayed as shy and Ravenclaw

You were shy. 

Certainly far shier than Sirius, shier than Remus, and perhaps even shier than Regulus. 

And it was because you were so shy that Sirius almost felt bad for saying something. 

Almost. 

“Oi, Rem,” Sirius started whilst keeping his salacious smirk pointed at you, completely unawares of the piss being taken at your expense, “I think you might need to take 10 points from Ravenclaw for being out of uniform.”

Remus looked up from the article he’d been reading as the piece of toast that had been on its way to his mouth paused midair, and you furrowed your brows as you looked up at Sirius from under your lashes. 

“Me?” You nearly squeaked when you realised Sirius’ predatory gaze was pointed at you, though Remus had the grace to smile at you apologetically. 

“Your tie, love.” Remus explained gently, but that didn’t seem to clear things up for you.

“But…I have my tie on?” You argued in the form of the question, hand migrating unconsciously to the well-tied knot at your neck when James’ voice permeated the atmosphere.

“Angel!” He called out breathlessly as he made it over to the Gryffindor table. “I, erm, I think there might have been a mix up.” 

Sirius watched you turn your head - which only served to draw further attention to the fact that you were not wearing your own house colours - to see James loosening the blue and copper tie from around his own neck. 

Sirius couldn’t even enjoy the widening of your eyes or the slacking of your jaw when he realised something.

“Wha- wait, no, wait, hang on.” Sirius sputtered as Remus nearly choked on his tea. “Why do you have her tie?”

Your hand quickly began to loosen the tie situated around your neck, though your movements slowed when you realised-

“For Salazar’s sake, Potter.” They heard Regulus hiss as he stalked over from the Slytherin table; Barty, Evan, and Dorcas cackling, seemingly at his expense (to the point that Barty actually slipped off the bench in a fit of laughter), as he ripped the red and gold tie from around his neck.

“What the fuck!?” Sirius shrieked as you finally pulled the green and silver tie off of your person and timidly held it out to your boyfriend. 

“Can’t believe you were so quick to blame it on me, Reggie.” James teased; easily replacing his own house tie to his neck and casually fixing the collar of his shirt whilst Regulus turned a completely new shade of pink and you looked like you were hoping for the floor of the Great Hall to simply swallow you up. “It takes two to tango.”

“Or three.” Remus chuckled under his breath, wincing when his boyfriends ire turned towards him. 

“Did you know!?” Sirius asked his maybe possibly soon to be ex boyfriend (or certainly his boyfriend who would be getting no cuddles or chocolates from Honeydukes for the next foreseeable future). 

“I…had a hunch?” Remus tried.

“The three of you!?” Sirius barked at the three of you then, though you and Regulus seemed to understand the question was for James. 

“Yeah!” James responded easily. “We’re pretty cute together, huh?”

Your shoulders migrated impossibly higher at the attention as you tried to cave in on yourself, and Regulus simply rolled his eyes at what he clearly felt was a Gryffindor brand of nonsense. 

Sirius had no response to that, though it didn’t appear James was waiting for one. James - the sod - simply pressed a kiss to the side of your head before doing much the same for Regulus and continuing back out of the Great Hall for his meeting with McGonagall as the Headboy. 

Regulus let out a frustrated huff and narrowed his eyes at his brother as if just daring him to say anything, though Sirius watched his face soften significantly when he turned his attention to you. 

“D’accord, amour?” He murmured quietly. (translation: alright?)

“Ouais.” You offered quickly. “But, erm, can you go away now?” 

Sirius sort of expected Regulus to huff in offence or chide you for being quite rude, but Regulus seemed to understand that you simply did not like the attention right now and actually smiled at you. 

What the fuck was happening right now!? 

“Tu vas bien, mon amour.” (translation: you're okay, my love) Regulus whispered into the side of your head where he pressed his lips before he departed, but the expression on your face made it look as though you very much disagreed with that. 

“Oh my gods?!” Sirius let out then when it was just Remus, you, and himself. 

“What’s that saying?” Remus asked as he looked back at his newspaper with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Curiosity killed the kneazle?”

“I wasn’t curious, Moons. I was trying to take the piss.” Sirius pouted.

Remus simply hummed at his petulant boyfriend as he winked at you over the Daily Prophet. “Call it karma, then.”

[blondwhxrewrites]

OMG PLS ITS SO WEIRD BUT-

u just out with slytherins on some porch and they all smoking weed/or whatever.

u tremble bcs you're cold but obvs u won't tell anyone🙄

theo notices it and wanna give u his hoodie but mattheo immediately protests even tho he's only wearing a shirt. AND HE GIVES U HIS SHIRT WHILE STAYING HALF NAKED JUST BCS HE DOESNT WANT U TO WEAR ANOTHERS MAN HOODIE😔🔥

No, because Mattheo is so possessive of his princess )):

Ur just chilling with the group on a rainy day sitting on Pansy's porch watching the rain fall and trying not to gag at the horrible smell of weed when you start to get chilly, and being the sweet boy he is, Theo offers his sweatshirt to warm you up.

You're just about to reach over and grab Theo's sweatshirt from him when suddenly another sweatshirt was thrust into your arms and your head whipped around to your boyfriend, who now sat shirtless beside you acting as if he didn't just do that. "Seriously?" You quirked an eyebrow, throwing the sweatshirt on without any question. 

The others around you snicker, passing joints between each other and watching as the rain continues to pour down. Mattheo just shrugs and continues to inhale his joint, puffing out the smoke. "I was getting hot anyways," he flicked away some of the burning embers at the end of his joint, smiling innocently.

And ur just left wearing his sweatshirt and drooling over his gorgeous abs because AWOOGA 🤤

[phas3d]

Hello love<33 i saw ur requests were open if it hasn't been done before can i request a Potter! Reader x Slytherin boys like the reader is Harry's twin sister?

Absolutely inlove with your writing btw🫶🫶

Potter!Reader || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: abuse mention (tom, mattheo)

contains :: draco, tom, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

notes :: i love this idea so much, i didn't think it would be this fun to write for - also i know neville technically killed voldemort BUT, just go along with me when i say harry killed voldemort

DRACO MALFOY

Getting a crush on someone was already hard enough for Draco to do

To be able to look past someone's flaws and finally see the beauty inside of someone

But all of that was quickly ruined once he found out you weren't just Harry Potter's sibling but his TWIN?

He genuinely gets so upset and angry not only at you but himself

He's not sure how to handle this information

But at the end, he decides that he can't stand the idea of dating Harry Potter's twin and possibly growing to be Harry Potter's brother-in-law

So he tries to avoid you at all times

But he can't, his body just won't allow him

And also, you're really good at finding him

In the end, he learns to accept it but Harry and Draco still bicker and fight

Even when you guys are 20+ years old, they still fight like siblings - which is actually perfect since they're brothers in law now

TOM RIDDLE

After Harry defeated his father, aka Voldemort, and brought "peace" to the world - he's hated his guts

Because although Voldemort was a mass murder, genocide supporter, blood racist, classist, backstabbing, asshole... That was still Tom's dad

But even then, Voldemort wasn't a great father. He was actually the worst father to ever live. For all of Tom's childhood, he was brain washed and tortured to believe his father was amazing, and sadly it worked on him

So finding out that his s/o, which was already an EXTREMELY rare sight since he can't tolerate anyone, was Harry Potter's twin....

Oh, he goes fucking insane and runs away to the forbidden forrest to "process" all of his emotions (he kills almost every animal in there out of pure strength)

Falling for the person who's related to your father's killer is not easy to handle

So,,, honestly I think Tom would break up with you and never give you a shot again

But, he still owns you - he just can't be with you duhhh

If you ever try to move on or get a new boyfriend, he simply make them "disappear"

It makes you isolate yourself from the dating world - but thank god Tom is there to offer to be fwb!

(this was his plan all along. he will never stop loving you but he doesn't have the guts to fully commit to a relationship anyways but he still wants you - so fwb is the easiest solution for him to avoid the guilt of actually dating you whilst still getting to own you in some way)

MATTHEO RIDDLE

He's the exact opposite of Tom, he actually really respects and likes Harry

After Harry killed Voldemort, he felt so free. It was like Harry got rid of the shackle that was keeping him down for so long

Unlike Tom, Mattheo always knew that what their father was doing was wrong and cruel - but he was forced to go along with the family's plans because he'd be punished if he didn't

Not only that, Mattheo and Harry both play Quidditch and are good rivals - he loves the competition

So he actually gets along fine with Harry

When he finds out you two are actually TWINS he's so shocked like omg

He wonders what would have happened if you ate Harry while in the womb or smth

And he also wonders why you and Harry aren't exactly identical (you are identical... mattheo just doesn't understand why harry has glasses and you don't....)

Doesn't mind bringing Harry on a couple of dates - But when Harry does come... it's basically like you're third wheeling

Your cute dates are ruined because these two dumbass men decide to do stupid stuff

Like for example, a cute date of mini golfing got ruined because Harry and Mattheo decided to see who could chuck their golf ball the farthest

They ended up breaking multiple windows...

Or when Mattheo took you out to go ice skating but it got ruined because fucking Harry surprised Mattheo with hockey gear

The two ended up playing hockey,,,, just a 1v1,,,, and crashed into so many bystanders that they just shut down the rink

They are now brothers for life... you must deal with this

THEODORE NOTT

When he finds out you're twins, he takes such a big sigh of relief

"Oh my gosh, that why you guys always hang out... I thought you might have been dating."

Instantly, you want to vomit in your mouth

Theo has little to no history with Harry, besides bullying Harry during their first few years at Hogwarts

But Theo was never a good bully... especially when he was younger

Because he was still learning English and had the THICKEST Italian accent that you barely understood him

One time in their 2nd year, Theo came up to Harry and insulted his nerdy glasses

But Harry simply tilted his head, "Sorry, no espanol."

From that day, it's a strong inside joke between all the Slytherin boys and Theo can never escape it

Harry's unintentional roast made Theo study English 10x times harder than he ever did before

So he's kinda grateful to him in a way but he does wanna get back at him

He's super chill around Harry and the two get along fine and dandy but nothing too special

They both respect each other a lot actually and don't cross any boundaries with each other

Since they're kinda similar actually: quidditch players, pull tons of bitches, decently smart, and "foreign" in some way

Basically: coolest in laws ever

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Oh my fucking god these two suck each other dicks

The amount of glazing they do for each other is CRAZYYY

When Enzo finds out you're twins with Harry - he's so happy because Harry and Enzo are actually really cool with each other

They both play quidditch together sometimes, play the same games, and they love the same shows

You basically lose your boyfriend... to your brother

Everywhere you two go,,, Harry is invited against your will

Going to watch a movie? Harry and Enzo are gonna share a blanket and leave you in the cold

Going to an arcade? Harry and Enzo will play every single game against each other and even take selfies of their wins

Fuck, even going shopping, the two banter and chat while you try on clothes

One time they got bored of waiting for you to try stuff on so they LEFT YOU and went to go get MATCHING T-SHIRTS???!?!??!?!?!???

Of course,,, you and Enzo do get alone time - some times

But you honestly love seeing how strong Enzo and Harry's bond is because it makes you happy that you picked the perfect boyfriend for your family

It's even better when Harry get his yearly girlfriend (that he will eventually leave heart broken)

So now you can go on double dates!!!

And hopefully the girl that Harry is with is cool, so that way you can also share a strong bond just like Enzo and Harry

But you can't get too attached.... your brother is a man-whore after all... 😞

[rotthepoet]

Come Home (Dark!Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

Notes; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Matty has been plaguing my mind and I need an outlet omg. I lowkey rewrote some lore for this, so essentially the battle of Hogwarts takes place but Voldemort's influence still lives on through Mattheo, who basically runs the new Knights of Walpurgis(The slytherin boys). Everyone is evil, all good business. 

Warnings; again, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Mattheo, Murder/death/gore, stalking, kidnapping, mattheo might highkey be ooc but its fine, dubcon(reader REALLY wants him but like.. morals?), oral(F! And M!), mention of fem masturbation, predator/prey dynamic, spitting, degradation, lowkey breeding kink?, piv, lowkey porn with plot, Stockholm syndrome if you squint, at least he kinda gets a redemption arc

This one goes out to my beautiful @nottswitch i hope dark!mattheo comes to life and fucks us both <3

Word count; 6.3k

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The bitter breeze in the frigid air pricks through my thin shirt as the diner door swings open and shut again as a customer disappears into the icky black of our winter night. I stare out after him, a farewell unspoken on my lips as I cast my gaze towards an orange, flickering lamp post lining the parallel street, and I realize how truly cold it is inside the shabby eatery. 

As I tug the embarrassingly short, mandated skirt I'm forced to wear, I can only think of the comforting and safe walls of Hogwarts, my home only months ago, yearning for the soft crackle of a fireplace and the ambient chatter of portraits lining the walls. The muggles had nothing as interesting, nothing as familiar as the light of the silver moon passing through the large windows of the great hall. Nothing as comfortable as my own home back in England, with my mother and fathers smiling faces. Nothing as comfortable as the safe, unscarred arms of the once-kind boy I loved what feels like so long ago. 

Being on the lam for about a month now, I've been skipping towns and laying low where I can. It’s not often, but when I'm able to stay in a town for longer than a week, I take pitiful muggle jobs, my current being to take orders at a local diner, “famous for their milkshakes”, although fame must mean four regular visitors in this nowhere town. 

Jean, the gray-haired woman who owns the diner I work at, leans over the counter and points at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It reads almost 1:30, and it finally sets in how tired I am. She hums and looks me up and down, standing in the middle of the floor, standing stiff as a board while holding a broom. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, a small smile gracing her aged face. 

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.” I apologize, leaning the non-flying broom against a nearby booth, and smooth out my wind-swept hair. 

Jean just shakes her head, “Go on and head home. You did good today.” she hums in approvement, tossing me my room key that was previously hanging on a hook in the kitchen. “Be careful out there, the papers said another storm is coming.” she warned, but a storm is the furthest thing from my mind as I push open the door. Silver light flashes across the street and my heart nearly stops beating, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach. My eyes squint, finally adjusting to the lack of light, catch the face of a mannequin in the window of a shop. I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and relax as I realize the moon had simply caught the silver details on the faux person. I turn on my heel and carry on down the dimly lit pavement towards my motel. 

It’s just as run down as everything else in this town, water stains stretching across the ceiling like swatches of muddy paint, and the hideous carpet crunches underneath my feet. It isn’t much. It is nothing, in fact, but a roof over my head and sanctuary from the ruthless dangers outside. 

I drop each article of clothing from my body onto the yellowing tile of the bathroom floor, stepping into the freezing cold water of the shower. I shudder, goosebumps racking through my body as I allow the water to wash away the grease and sweat, I collected today. I run a baby blue loofa over my skin, suds washing away with the now lukewarm stream. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and the smell of metallic rust from the old pipes fills my nostrils. 

Blood. So much blood. It covers my hands, and my knees, my face, and my clothes. I practically wade through a pool of it, the dark hallways of that god awful manor stretch on infinitely, and the smell of rot and decay suffocates my senses. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as his strong arms wrap around me as I collapse to the floor, and I'm hyper aware of the many motionless bodies lying at my feet. His lips brush against my neck, rough and wet, and I wonder if they have blood on them too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Malicious is not a word I thought I would ever use to describe my lover, the man I thought I was going to marry one day, but like many other things before, he proved me wrong. His warm hands caress the soft fat of my thighs, slipping underneath the loose fabric of my shorts, and he leans into my ear. “They’re all gone now… Let’s go take a shower.” 

I release a shaky breath and turn off the water, letting it drip from my head and down my face, mingling with salty tears. Wiping my face with my wet palms, which did nothing in retrospect, I sigh. I can’t go back there; I can never go back there. It isn’t safe anymore. He isn’t safe anymore. Come on, I can’t keep feeling bad for myself. This is ridiculous, and as I step out of the shower and dress myself, I feel a newfound sense of determination. Sleep, for the first time in months, finds me easily with her warm embrace. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

As most things in my life do, my high spirits came to an abrupt end. Smoke fills my lungs, but there's a strange taste to it. It’s not a fire, no, it was tobacco. A smell I was all too familiar with. I sat up in bed, and my eyes met the inky black eyes of his silver, skull mask. My breath catches in my throat, only for me to cough out the smoke from his cigarette.

He couldn’t have found me this easily. It’s a bad dream, it has to be. Merlin forgive me, God save me, tell me this is just a dream! The mask on his face shifts a little, clearly amused at my coughing fit. “Have anything to say?”

Say anything. Stop gaping at him like a fish, you are a powerful witch, almost top of your class in DADA. Almost. Second place, notably. Right behind him.

Mattheo Riddle.

A sob racks through my body, tears falling down my cheeks before I even realize, and I’m paralyzed in place. Half of me wants to crawl into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, to beg for him to take me home. Home to that wretched, dark house, with blood seeped into the wood. With blood-stained grout on the kitchen tile. With blood-stained walls. So, so much blood. The other half of me screams at me to run. To run, to run, run, run, RUN! For god's sake, run! 

I push myself out of bed, fast enough to catch Mattheo by surprise. He flicks his cigarette to the side, letting it roll along the carpet floor. My hand reaches for my wand resting on a table beside the door as I duck out of his reaching arms, and I stumble to my feet as he lunges after me. I throw open the door, pulling it shut in his face as he screams for me.

“You bitch! Come back here!” he screams through the wood, struggling with the now sweat-slick doorknob. 

The door splinters open with the blast of, “Bombarda!”, but I scramble down the wet, cold streets, my bare feet scratch against the rough pavement as I sprint, thankful that it had been just warm enough to not freeze. I duck down another street, pulling out my wand to apparate elsewhere. I rack my brain for a safe location. Hogwarts? I might be able to, but I don’t want to risk splinching. My job? It might separate me long enough to get my shit together. 

Air is knocked out of me as a heavy body slams into mine, knocking my wand out of my hand. A heavy, black boot pins my wrist to the ground, and a silver mask that was not Riddle’s leans over me. He laughs under the mask, but I can’t tell which of his mentally fucked goons had caught me. I reach for my wand, but another set of boots kicks it out of my reach. Leather gloved hands grab my hair and lift me up to face the group now circling me. 

“She looks pitiful, really. Like an angry kitten.” An Italian accent draws next to my ear with a mocking snicker, and I thrash to kick Theodore Nott anywhere I can, luckily landing a solid blow to his shin. He curses in pain, and hisses something inaudible underneath his mask as he throws me back to the ground. The rough concrete scratches against my exposed skin, drawing blood from the soft flesh. I yelp in pain, landing at the feet of someone else. A black, steel-toed boot presses against my cheek, pushing my head to the side as I watch another figure ominously approach. I would recognize my Mattheo’s casual amble anywhere, and he peered down at my stray wand laying at his feet.

I don’t even have time to protest as he steps his boot onto the wood, sparks fizzing out around the magic object as it snaps under his weight. A choked sob escapes me as he approaches, my eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

“Enough of this, love. It’s time to come home,” He drawls, kneeling down to my level and lifting my chin to meet his empty gaze. “Be a good girl and come back to me, I’m tired of this little game of yours.”

“Fuck. You.” I spat on the silver of his skull-like mask, noting the wild look in my own eyes as the saliva slips down its reflective surface.

Mattheo groaned and tugged off his mask, and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t think this awful man who betrayed me, threatened me, hunted me down, can still be attractive. Then again, he was still the man I had loved–part of me still does love– all those years ago. The handsome face I fell asleep looking at, the doe eyes I found comfort in. He looked roguish now, his brown curls were longer than the last time I had seen him, and he had a new scar running across his cheek from our last encounter. My mouth goes dry as he leans into my face, his breath hot against my lips. 

“I’ve missed you, love,” He practically purred, pressing his dry lips against my trembling ones. I whine against him, wriggling my body underneath the heavy weight of whoever was holding me. 

Mattheo groaned, gripping my chin harder, “You used to be so obedient, pet, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you.” he mumbled, kissing my forehead as I felt his wand pressed to my temple. He mumbled an incantation against my skin, and I felt my body go limp before my eyes closed themselves, and sleep consumed me. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

It was cold, damp, and reeked of copper and mold. My body laid on the floor, sore and unresponsive to my will to move. As my senses came back to me, I tried climbing to my feet, but a chain tugged my ankle back to the floor. I tumbled to the stone floor, scraping my hands against its rough surface. I whimper in pain, and only as I go to wipe my hands on my pants do I realize I’m completely nude. Horror racks through my body as I take in my surrounding and own appearance. I know I'm back in that old house, that old, disgusting, horrible house of horrors, and tears fall from my stinging eyes again.

I don’t know how long I laid on that floor, shaking from the cold as I sob into the air, screaming and cursing with conviction, damning Riddle’s name to an eternity in hell. I scream, and wail, and cry until I tire myself out, my voice breaking into nothing but a hushed plea for freedom. 

I fight sleep, sitting myself against a wall near my chain, breathing deep into my burning lungs. My eyes drift closed, but I will them open as the loud creak of a door alerts me. It’s only then that I notice a stairwell, casted in a white light with the newly opened door, and my heart nervously skips a beat as a tall shadow approaches the stairwell. The stairs creak under his weight as he descends to what I can only infer is a basement, and I stare up at his form.

Mattheo wasn’t nearly as scary like this, dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt. Had he not been so threatening, and the reason I was chained to the basement floor, I would have swooned over the top buttons being undone. Perhaps I still do get butterflies in my stomach, but that may just be nausea. 

He looks down at me with an expression I can only describe as mock sympathy, clicking his tongue softly. “Down here for less than three hours and you’ve already managed to hurt yourself,” he scolded me, shaking his head in disappointment, “My clumsy girl, what am I going to do with you?” 

The smile he cracked made me want to claw his eyes out, or kiss him, and I worry that he may have slipped me a love potion. My ears ring, and my head suddenly aches with a mild pain, and Mattheo smirks.

“Like the shirt, do you?” He teased, kneeling down to my level. I curse under my breath, face heating up with anger (Or embarrassment, I can’t really tell), of course I forget he’s a legilimens. “Drop the act darling, I know you’re going to crack eventually. Save us both the trouble so I can finally bring you back to bed.” His warm hand tenderly caressed my cold cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “I hate seeing you down here like this, but you need to remember your place.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I whip my head to the side to bite his hand. He scowls and rips his hand away, reeling it back and back-handing me across the face. It knocks my breath out of my chest, and the rings on his fingers cut my cheek. Metallic blood drips to the floor. 

“Fine. Stay down here and bleed out for all I care.” He snaps, rubbing his sore hand as he turns on his heel and storms up the stairs. The door slams loudly behind him, and I’m engulfed in sudden darkness.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

My cheek and hands had long stopped bleeding the next time he came back, staining my skin red with its slick. My head lifts as the door opens again, and light makes my eyes dilate painfully. Mattheo trudges down the stairs, his head hanging low, and a small white box hanging from his hand. He approaches me and kneels at my level. I meet his gaze, glaring into his soft eyes.

“Darling, you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?” He mumbled, holding my chin to twist my cheek towards him, his rough actions bringing tears to my eyes. “I was just so worked up, and you were pushing too many buttons, you’ll forgive me, right?” He asks hopefully, but I don’t answer him.

He sighs in defeat, opening the little box and retrieving a cloth and bottle full of a clear liquid. My eyes go wide, and I scramble backwards as far as the chain allows me to. “No, No, Mattheo please don’t-” I plead, heart racing as he looks at me with confusion.

A smile breaks across his face, “Oh darling, no, no, it’s just alcohol.” he laughs a bit, a deep sound that makes pleasant shivers run down my spine and too an embarrassing heat between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? He approaches me again, dousing the cloth with the solution before taking my hands. He shushes my soft whines as he presses it to my scraped palms, which makes me hiss at the burning sensation. “Good girl, there we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asks as he takes a roll of gauze from the box and wraps each of my hands. He lifts my palms to his lips, pressing a storm of soft pecks and kisses to the gauze and skin. My face heats up at the gesture, and I force myself to look away. He was always so chivalrous for a monster, though it hurt to call him that even after everything.

He presses the cloth to my cheek next, his thumb tracing calming circles into the opposite cheek. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty girl.” He whispered, placing a bandage over my skin. Just like my palms, he kisses my cheek, though much slower and intimate this time. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know?” he promised, leaning over my trembling body. He looked down at me, eyes drifting past my collarbone, and he whistled softly. “A sight for sore eyes… and It’s all mine.” He smirked, leaning down as he supported his weight on his forearms. His chapped lips press suspiciously soft kisses to my neck. A loud thud coming from upstairs makes Mattheo groan and pull away. He looks down at me, wide eyed beneath him, “I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He hummed, patting my cheek as he stood up. 

He casts me one last yearning glance before he shuts the door again, much softer this time. I lean back against the stone, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and try to ignore the wetness between my thighs as I drift off to sleep.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I’m startled awake as the basement door slams shut, and heavy footsteps descend to my prison. Mattheo storms into view, and before I can even get a word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me up to my knees. He sneers down at me, and my head is spinning from the sudden switch up.

“Incompetent assholes. Have to do everything myself around here,” He mumbled, not really speaking to me rather than himself. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my hair as his other hand tugs apart the button of his slacks. 

My eyes go wide with shock, and he pulls my hair, forcing my chin up to look at him. “Open your mouth,” He demands, his voice lacking his previous warmth, and I'm reminded that this is not my Matty. My lip quivers and I shake my head slightly. Mattheo pulls his half-hard cock from the confines of his black briefs and pulls me by the hair to his tip. “I don’t have time for this attitude, I said open your mouth.”

I don’t even have a moment to react before his leaking tip is pressed against my mouth. He pushes his way past, groaning as my wet lips engulf his mushroomed tip. He pulls on my hair again, forcing himself further into my warm hole. “There you go, not so hard, was it? Now suck.” He orders in a tone I’ve never heard him use in bed before, and as he bucks his hips towards my face, I whine in protest while the ache returns to my lower stomach. My jaw relaxes on its own, familiar with the girth of his hung cock. An almost inaudible whine slips through my throat, and he groans at the tightness. One more tug lets me know his patience is running thin, and I reach my bandaged hand up to stroke the rest of him while I focus on his tip.

Mattheo bites back a moan, his hips stuttering as I descend further down onto his length. His leaky tip presses against the back of my throat, and he holds my head in place while he rocks his hips further into me. My nose presses against his groin as he slips down the back of my throat, and his grip moves from my hair to my throat, feeling my neck bulge with every movement. Saliva drips past him and down my chin, dribbling to the floor in thick droplets. He shudders as my throat tightens around him, nearly swallowing the head. 

“Yeah, yeah… Fuck baby. Keep going for me, almost there,” He mumbles, rocking his hips faster than before. I whine around him, my own hand slipping down to the ache at my core. My fingers gingerly brush against my clit, and the soft moan I try to let out makes Mattheo’s head roll back. Hot spurts of his seed shoot down my throat and my glossy eyes go wide at the feeling.

“Swallow,” Is all he says, and obediently, I do. He pulls my head off of him, his cum mixing with the drool in my mouth when it drips down my chin. He grips my face between his index finger and thumb, collecting the mess with a swipe of his finger and pushing it back into my sore mouth. “All of it.” 

When I satisfied him, he pushed me back to the ground, and I yelped in pain as I collided against the stone surface. “When I come down here, I want you on your knees waiting for my dick. Understand?”

I nod weakly, and he smirks down at me. “Good girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll bring you back upstairs.” He says, before pulling back up his pants and running a hand through his hair. 

When he leaves again, I’m left with an unbearable, wet mess.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

With nothing else to do in my makeshift prison, I sleep a lot. And when I wake up, I force myself to sleep again. I sleep God knows how long before the door opens again, and Mattheo trudges down the stairs. I scramble to my knees, honestly fearing what might happen if I disobey him, and when Mattheo catches sight of me, he smiles. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He hums, holding a platter with a bowl of something steaming, a slice of some sort of bread, and a bottle of water. My stomach growls as its divine aroma fills my senses, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. 

Mattheo sits down in front of me and puts the tray between up. He rests his elbow on his knee and leans into his palm. “Eat,” he orders me, gesturing to the platter with the wave of his free hand. “Or would you prefer I feed you myself?” He asks with a smirk, watching how I shift from my knees to rest on my hip. I grab the water bottle first, chugging half of it in one go, before I subconsciously offer him a sip. What’s mine is his. Was his. Was. I look up at him, taking the water and sipping from it. I tore my gaze away before he noticed.

“I don’t want to stay in the basement anymore,” I mumble, dipping the bread into the soup before taking a bite, shivering at its deliciousness. Mattheo sighed and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that yet. You ran away, darling. I can’t trust you won’t do that again,” He explained, reaching his hand across the way to rub my knee soothingly. I sigh and push the tray away, my appetite gone. Mattheo frowned and moved the tray away, leaning over me. “Princess, c’mon, don’t be this way.” he hummed, pushing me onto my back. My heart rate quickened, and he definitely noticed. “But you’re right. I’ve been neglecting you… That’s why you ran away right? My poor girl was lonely and scared.” he hummed, pressing his lips to my collar bone. “Not anymore. My attention is solely on you, I promise.” 

My head rolled back a little, lolling onto the floor as he trailed his kisses down my sternum, stopping at my breasts to gently knead them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for his hair, tugging gently on his loose curls. He groaned in response, his lips finding my perked nipple and taking it into his warm mouth. His other hand slipped down my soft stomach, dipping between my thighs. Out of reflex, I squeezed them together, and Mattheo parted from my tit. He sat back on his haunches, using his strong, scarred hands to pull apart my thighs and admire my glistening, needy cunt.

“It’s been all about me, huh? Need to show my girls some love.” He mumbled, before dipping his head down. His warm breath fanned across my puffy lips, and I shivered at the breeze. He didn’t waste a second more, drawing a long, needy moan from my lips as he licked a long strip from my hole to my clit. My hands tangle into his hair again, and my mouth falls open with pleasure. “Fuck, Matty–” the nickname fell from my lips without a second thought, and he practically purrs against me. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he dives nose deep into my pussy. My back arches off the floor as a string of curses flies from my lips. I feel his wet appendage push against my hole, and I clench at the feeling as his nose brushes against my sensitive bud. I tug on his hair again, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I mewl, my edge fast approaching as Mattheo swirls his tongue over my clit. He sloppily makes out with my lower lips, pulling me closer to the edge with each passing second, and I’m in near tears when there's a loud crash up above us. 

Mattheo practically roars in anger, pulling his soaked face away from my aching cunt, the knot in my stomach loosening at the sudden separation. I whine and sit up, trying to pull him back down, but he stops me with a firm hold on my wrist. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” he ordered, “I need to take care of this, and I promise as soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Anger flashes through me, and I bite back my cries. “Don’t you dare leave me like this, Riddle.” I snap, and he gives me a warning look that makes goosebumps prick at my skin. He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to my lips, and I can feel him shiver as I lick my own arousal from his lips. “I’ll be right back, princess. Be good for me, and we can talk about a reward.”

And with that, he left yet again.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I was starting to get sick of his mind games, switching up his attitude, finally giving me relief before ripping it away from me. Fuck. What am I saying? I watched him murder dozens of people; I watched lives being taken right in front of me. I shiver at the memory and try to focus on anything else before it becomes too much to bear. 

I hate how he makes me feel. Sometimes he’s my Mattheo, and sometimes he’s nothing but a parasite attached to a face I can’t help but love. My back hits a wall, and I can’t count how long he’s been gone. I miss his warm, familiar touch, but anything was better than the cold, dark basement. I close my eyes, my lip trembling as I reach my hand down, fingers hesitantly spreading my folds. Cold air hit my wet lips, and I gasp at the feeling. I brush my fingertips against my hole, whining softly at the pleasure that coursed through my body. Maybe I'm sick in the head, maybe I hit my head too hard one day on the run and never recovered. Maybe I never really hated Mattheo. 

What is wrong with me?

I don’t move when the door opens again. I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. This was not ‘right back’. As Mattheo’s black boot lands on the stone floor, my mouth goes dry. He’s weaning that stupid mask again, and that stupid costume, tilting his head stupidly at me. He approaches me in a way that makes my heart race in fear, like I'm nothing but cowardly prey between the jaws of a large wolf. 

He knees down, retrieving his hand from his pocket. Wordlessly, he unlocks the chain around my ankle, and he looks up at me. With another wave of his wand, I’m dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. It’s not much at all, but it’s better than naked. A rush of emotions rushes through my chest, and I almost gratefully throw my arms around Mattheo, but he stops me. 

“Go. Run,” He orders, stepping aside. I stare up at him in confusion, mounted to my spot on the ground. “I said run, little pet, like you want to.” He pulls me from the ground, pressing my cold body up against his comforting warmth. “Run, and if I catch you,” he leaned down into my ear, and through the skull mouth of his mask I could feel his breath fanning across my ear. “Well, I think you know what’s going to happen.”

I still don’t move, wondering if he would be less harsh if I stayed with him, but he only laughed. “Such a good girl, don’t worry,” he pulled his mask up just enough to expose his pearly white teeth. They sunk into the soft flesh just beneath my ear, “I’ll always find you. Go, now.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I raced up the stairs of the basement and pushed past the door. The house was just as I remembered, dark with walls that were too tall, black cloths hung over the complaining portraits. I was disoriented in the dark, but my feet carried me through the house until I found the overtly large entrance. I pushed open the doors and ran out into the cold, snowy night. 

Frost nipped at each of my limps, and my lungs found it harder to breathe the frigid air. I ran anyway, out towards the woods surrounding the manor. I cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Mattheo staring back at me through the blacked-out eyes of his mask. I ducked into the tree line, just as he started his casual stroll towards me. Cocky bastard. 

I run for as long as I can before my lungs give out. I leaned against a tree, walking slowly into a clearing. I take a deep breath, pulling my arms behind my head to breathe deeper. Just as I find a moment of peace, a branch snaps behind me. I whip my head around, my heart racing as Mattheo approaches me. He doesn’t run, only walks towards me with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ditched that awful mask, and I can see the smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. I stumble backwards, falling into the fresh snow. He continues his pace, unbothered by my racing heart as I scramble away from him and finally back to my feet. I don’t get one leg in front of the other before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, slipping under the loose fabric of my shirt.

“I win,” He mumbles in my ear, voice dark and raspy. It sends a chill down my spine that pools in my underwear. 

Mattheo throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my flailing lips as he walks back to the manor. “Didn’t even get a mile, love. Lost your talent it seems, or maybe you knew you’d miss me too much.” he teased, running his warm hands up my thigh, pressing a kiss to my exposed skin. 

It isn’t long before we’re back at the manor, and I thank every god I'm in good ties with when he walks past the basement. He takes me to his room instead, our room, the room where I've fallen apart under his touch more times than I can count. 

I breathe in his familiar scent as he deposits me on the bed, and I roll over to bury my burning face in the pillows. Mattheo chuckles at me and grabs my hips, pulling me back against him as he grinds his hardening bulge against the plushness of my ass. 

“You’ve been extra obedient, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with a tone I could quite place. Lust? Possession? Love? It all blurred together as he rutted his hips against me. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” he asked, before hooking his fingers at the hem of my shorts. He pulled them down to expose my glistening cunt. He spread me out along his fingers, admiring the way my pussy pulsed around nothing. He leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my clit, holding my hips as I try to buck away from him. 

His warm fingers trace along my thighs, sleeping between my legs and collecting the arousal that pooled there. I release a shaky breath into the pillow as his finger circles my clit, and I arch my back to present myself further. He hums in appreciation, trailing his finger further up to my dripping hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, not being able to remember the last time something so long had been inside of me. I keen under his touch, gripping the sheets for stability as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me. A moan escapes me as he curls his finger, and his thumb brushes against my needy pearl again. Mattheo adds a second finger, spreading out my tight, gummy walls. I crumble under his touch, mouth falling open and eyes going half lidded as he pulls his fingers from me. 

I hear him dropping his pants, and the bed dips behind me yet again as he leans his body completely over mine. His arm wraps around my neck, pressing me close to his chest while his breath fans across my face. The tip of his cock presses against me, and I whine at the sensation, pushing my hips back against him.

“Needy girl, thought you didn’t need me anymore.” He teased, pushing just the bulbous tip into my hole. It’s enough to make the knot in my stomach tighten, and I shake my head. “Need you, Matty, Need you so bad.” I admit, face flushed with embarrassment as he smirks. “Gonna run away again?”

He doesn’t let me get an answer out before he’s pressing further inside of me, the stretch burning pleasantly while my eyes roll back. His arm around my throat tightens, “I asked you a question, darling.” He teased, licking away the stray tear that fell from my eyes. I gasp as his cock brushes against a gummy bundle of nerves, and my head drops to the pillows. He tugs me back against him, pushing even further until he balls slapped against me. “No! No, never gonna leave again,” I promised, involuntary whines spilling from my throat. 

Mattheo pulls his hips back before drilling them back into me, “Good girl,” He grins as he sets a punishing pace, watching my face contort into pleasure underneath him. “Who owns you?” he asks, and I push back against his hips desperately. “You! You do, God, you do!” I moan, feeling my head go light from the lack of airflow. 

“God isn’t here, Love, It’s just me now.”

He drills into my pulsating hole, my back arching at his every thrust as my brain goes mushy from the pleasure. The arm around my throat pulls away, slipping down my stomach to find my pearl. His fingers are just as fast as his pace, and I can’t fight back the whorish moans in my throat. His lips attach to my shoulder, biting a possessive mark into my skin as he fucks me good, better than he ever had before. 

Tears fall from my eyes, and my hand grips his desperately as I’m worked to my edge. “Matty, Matty please…” I trail off into a string of moans, and Mattheo adjusts himself behind me. He bucks his hips into me once more, and I fall apart all over him. My pussy flutters around his cock, and he rides out my orgasm with a few last thrusts of his hips, before he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. Mattheo collapses on top of me, still deep inside as he pins my body to the bed. He hums into my neck, burying himself in my skin. 

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go take a shower.”