#cuz now my room is on ground level

[diivineray]

if my mom dont put this woman in a home-- imma put her in something

[erooca]

daycare

ellie williams x reader

description: ellie williams is forced to take a shift at a daycare. she knows she’s gonna hate it, that is, until she sees you. 1.9k words

this is very self indulgent cuz i work at a daycare. i’d be so down to continue this storyline if it gets any interactions :)

part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/erooca/725335248989208576/daycare-pt-2

why the fuck am i here? is exactly what ellie was thinking, pulling into the small, but cheery daycare. it was 9:30 in the fucking morning. she should still be asleep, not getting prepared to run around with little kids for the next eight hours.

after feeling sorry for herself a bit longer, she turned off the ignition and headed into the double doors.

“good morning, ellie!” maria said with a bright smile. ellie almost rolled her eyes at the enthusiasm. maria was sitting behind the front desk, clicking away on the computer in front of her.

“morning,” ellie responded back, a complete opposite from the way maria had greeted her.

“i know i’ve already thanked you a million times, but seriously. thank you for coming in,” maria thanked.

right. the reason ellie was here in the first place. maria had mentioned how the daycare she owned was extremely understaffed recently and needed all the help she could get. of course, joel offered up ellie as help. he said it would be good for her. ellie would have shut them both down, but maria mentioned how much she’d pay ellie. ellie was sold.

“yeah,” ellie responded, still not happy about the experience.

“listen, ellie, as soon as i get some more workers you’ll be free to go,” maria comforted.

“i know. so what am i gonna be doing?” ellie asked, praying to whatever’s out there that she won’t have to change any diapers.

“i think i’m going to put you in the big three’s. it’s a good group of kids, so don’t stress. it’s just down that hallway. second door on the right.”

ellie nodded her head and set off to the room. she already knew she was about to have the most frustrating and long shift of her entire life.

as she walked down the hallway, she admired the kids’ art that was strung on the walls. she noticed more of it around the big three’s door. she took a deep breath, and then entered through the door.

and then she saw you. you were kneeled down, ground level with a little girl who was crying. she watched as you gave the little girl a big hug, and how you helped her focus on the tower she was building with the colorful blocks.

when you finished calmed down the kid, you spotted ellie. maria told you that you’d be having another teacher today, but she never mentioned that teacher would be fine as fuck.

“hey. ellie, right?” you asked.

“um.. yeah,” she answered.

you introduced yourself to her and the room.

“they’re doing centers right now. you should go around and try to get to know some of the kids. once we have circle time, we can do proper introductions. that sound okay?” you suggested.

“sure..” ellie said. you could sense the nervousness radiating off of her.

“don’t stress. these kids are fun to be around. at least most of the time. let me know if you need anything,” you encouraged.

she nodded her head and looked around the room. from what she could see, the centers included music, blocks, art, math, science, and a play kitchen.

of course, she felt inclined to visit the art table first. there was only about three kids over there, and it was a topic she knew pretty well. was she overthinking this? probably.

she took a seat on the uncomfortably small chair in front of the table. immediately, the three kids looked up at her.

“hi! what’s your name?” a girl with short brown hair asked her.

“ellie,” she answered, then realized she should probably talk a bit more, “um what’s yours?”

“pippa,” she answered, putting away the green crayon in exchange for a red one.

“what are you drawing?” ellie asked, looking at the mound of colors on the girl’s paper.

“my family!” pippa smiled, “that’s my mommy, and that’s my kitty kat, and that’s daddy!”

to ellie, it looked more like scribbles of different colors, but nonetheless she praised the girl for her creativity.

she felt a light tap on her arm and when she turned she was met with a shy looking boy. he had black braids in his hair and wore a toy story themed shirt.

“hi.” ellie said to the boy.

“can you draw me something?” he asked, handing her his blank sheet of paper.

“okay..” she said, taking the paper from him, “what should i draw?”

the boy thought for a minute, “ooo, i know! a dinosaur!!” he said, excitedly.

this request made ellie’s smile grow. of course she could draw him a motherfucking dinosaur.

“what’s your name?” she asked him.

“king!” he replied, awaiting his dinosaur.

as she drew, king watched intently, and once pippa noticed ellie was drawing, she started watching too.

when ellie was finished, she gave it back to king.

“woah!!! it’s a t-rex! i’m gonna color him green!” he said.

“ellie. can you draw me a mermaid?” pippa asked her.

ellie obliged and soon she had a good line of kids asking her to draw things for them.

as she was working on her third princess drawing, she heard you singing the clean up song.

she didn’t have chance to admire how beautiful your voice was before the kids started singing along. the three year olds started cleaning up their messes and ellie helped them out.

you had them gather on the carpet, where you finally introduced ellie as their new teacher (for the time being). you watched as ellie awkwardly smiled and you had to hold in a laugh.

after doing a couple songs and shit with the kids, they all went outside and played on the playground.

you took this opportunity to talk to ellie.

“hey, so, how you liking it so far?” you asked her, curiously.

“i thought i’d hate it, but it’s actually not too bad,” she said, glancing over at you with a smile. you swear you almost passed out right there.

“haha, yeah. it can take a second to get used to. you’re lucky they didn’t put you with the two year olds. those children make me want to quit my job,” you laughed, “so you know maria?”

“yeah. she’s sort of my- aunt-in-law - i guess?” ellie said, trying to find the right words.

“really? tommy must be your uncle then. gonna be honest, maria scares me,” you admitted.

ellie laughed, and your heart skipped a beat.

“pretty sure tommy feels the same way. she’s not bad once you get passed the cold exterior. how long you been working here?” ellie asked, intrigued to know more about you.

“about a year. its just a steady job while i’m in college,” you answered.

“you’re in college. where do you go?” she asked.

“jackson state!”

“no way, me too. you on campus?”

“yeah, campbell north.”

“no fucking way-“ ellie said, but caught herself, “shit-SHOOT, no freaking way. i dorm there too.”

after you laughed at her slip up, you continued your sweet conversation with her. you felt like you’re falling in love with her by the second, and little to your knowledge, she’s was feeling the same way.

“do you have any favorites yet?” you asked.

“um.. i like king. he’s sweet,” ellie answered, thinking back to the dinosaur drawing.

“yeah. he’s really smart too. he’s actually in the foster care system and can be a bit sensitive about it. try not to mention moms or dads around him,” you told her.

this struck a chord in ellie. she had been in foster care a long time before joel came along. she knew exactly what it was like for king. she hopes he will be as fortunate as her in the future.

when the time came, you and ellie corralled all the kids back into the room. there was a cart at the front of their door that had lunch on it. you explained to ellie that you guys will have to make the plates and then hand them out, same with the milk.

you passed out the plates to each kid who was sitting down at the small tables, while ellie came behind with the bowls of food, placing a nice scoop on each child’s paper plate.

you went to start pouring the milk but soon got distracted. you couldn’t help but watch ellie as her lean figure slid around the room. you liked the way she kneeled down when a child was asking her a question, acting as if that child were her equal. you studied how her hair was sticking up a bit on the sides, probably from being outside and running around with the three year olds. most of all, you loved how she was smiling. how it seemed that she was enjoying herself. the beautiful curve up of her lips was enough for your heart to beat at a rapid pace.

you snapped out of your trance when you saw ellie look up at you. you flicked your head away before she could catch you staring (even though she definitely did and you knew it too). you started actually doing your job and pouring the milk for your children.

as the day went on, ellie was very fond of learning more about you. you both spent nap time learning new things. when ellie told you how much she loved space, you told her how you thought you could be the first person to pluto as a kid, since it was your favorite planet. you guys talked about your favorite constellations and which ones you spot first. you told her how much you liked to read and shared your favorite stories with her. you asked what maria was like at thanksgiving dinner.

you were sat together against the wall, just chatting. the lullaby music played on the tv. the lights were off and curtains were closed. the three year olds were all asleep. ellie was all to yourself right now. you were so starstruck with how easily your conversation flowed. she sat with her knees up, resting ur arms on them as she looked at you. you could see glint in her eyes, even in the dark room. it made you like her even more.

once the kids woke up, it was less talking and more working, much to your disappointment. the rest of the day went by smoothly. you did a fun craft with the children that they enjoyed, and ended the day with tv time. once the number of kids got lower, maria came in to let ellie know she could go home.

“well. i hope all these kids didn’t scare you off. will you- be here tomorrow?” you asked with a hopeful look on her face.

ellie chuckled, “some of them are a bit scary, but they didn’t. i think i will be here tomorrow, but only so i can see you again though,” ellie smirked.

once her words sunk in, your cheeks turned a blushy color. no way the new, hot teacher just flirted with you. you stammered a bit but regained your ground.

“looking forward to it, ellie. have a good night,” you smiled brightly.

ellie have you a slight smile and a wave before walking out the door. you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. holy shit were you in deep.

ellie joyfully said bye to maria, earning her a weird look. she felt on cloud nine as she walked to her car. the day went better than she could’ve ever expected. she was already making a mental list on ways she could win you over.

maybe this daycare job won’t be so bad. is exactly what ellie was thinking as she drove away.

[court-jobi]

AAAAH i love your bakugo x biker!reader series every time you post a new story I get so excited their relationship is so cute and your writing is so compelling I just have to read them over and over again

Awwww anon!!! Thank you so much!!! That is high praise, and I appreciate you sharing your love for them so much~ Methinks I need to start a little timeline for that sweet n' spicy reader... and perhaps give you a lil sneak peak into an idea I've had recently where biker!reader is a bit cheeky... all in good fun, right?

To catch up on this series and my other MHA fics, check it out here!

Bakugou x biker!reader WIP incoming...

Picturing UA holding a Work Study Expo -a new initiative by Midoriya to help connect would-be heroes with Pros they may not know yet; namely for the hero courses, but also with added attention for the support students!

Enter our darling biker!reader. Reader is sandwiched by Kirishima and Bakugou to come attend-- the boys both RSVP with a unanimous 'yes' seeing a UA reunion tour in the making, with Bakugou particularly excited to take you there to see his former school since you'd received your secondary education elsewhere.

You're happy for it too; gives you just a little more insight into the place that had a large part in building him up to the hero status he is today...

...until the three of you are checking out the figures across the reception space-- and you freeze when you spot someone. Kirishima clocks it as a starstruck response and despite your harshly whispered word of denial, he makes off in golden retriever fashion to go get them.

Bakugou would be... a bit intrigued to see this reaction from you. Not that you weren't allowed your idols (even though he feels no one holds a candle to Allmight by default), but he was curious as to why you would look so... antsy. It wasn't quite a 'Deku' level of floundering - but that purposeful squaring up of your shoulders and avoidance of his eye contact altogether gave him cocky cause to tease you further.

"What, scared to meet your heroes? Figured you'd be plenty used to that by now."

"Shush,heisnotmyhero."

"Oi--" Bakugou cocks his head to the side, effectively forcing you to look at him over your predicted line of sight. "What's your issue then, angel eyes?"

With an unavoidable storytime bubbling in your gut, you run the risk to see if you can sum everything up for him by the time Kirishima comes back-- or at the very least, figure out the nearest exit to gracefully disappear to for the next fifteen minutes or so....

You pull him aside lightly by the wrist, closer to one of the tables of handouts for the event.

"Okay... You have to remember one thing, promise?"

"Yeah?" Bakugou chimes back, entertained.

"This happened before I met you."

His interest doubles, but smile falls, "...yeah?"

"I have not thought about it one day since.."

"... yeah?"

"Remember how I told you," you tread lightly as some students pass you by with some excited waves, "-when I transferred here, I had to work with that proviso license from the Commissions office 'cuz of the whole 'double-triple-check' applicants' liabilities clauses? And mine took forever and a day, because of all those traffic violations that were completely legal where I was last stationed?"

"Uh-huh."

"And that meant I took nothing but graveyard shifts for the first, like, six months... so I basically broke ground solo before the agency could pick up my contract?"

"Uh-huh...?"

Reader sets the scene for a particular alleyway they'd been stationed at, something of a traffic stop role and in prime position for hopping onto the freeway if needed. Helmeted with your visor up, you could keep on coms while getting a little bit of fresh air to keep you awake.

But it's also the sort where villains make their playground meetups and cause some trouble for unsuspecting folks. It's easy work- though trouble could crop up at any time....

Enter the hero you caught sight of across the room: the man you'd watched string up a trio of baddies so expertly, you knew they were never gonna get anywhere near you, so why flinch?

The hero who'd snidely commented how he coulda appreciated the help, but who you assured with a saucy 'you had it under control, hon'.

The hero who you proved yourself to by jumping into action together in a bit of an impromptu high-speed chase.

The hero who ultimately caught your name, but chose to call you 'Speedy' after your impressive performance. Who said you were no rookie like he thought.

The hero who chipped the lip of your helmet in thanks and patted the rear of your bike in a casual move before setting off into the night again, sufficiently making a mark on your fluttering heart as your new favorite hero of Japan.... who you cannot believe you with and who is now approaching over Bakugou's shoulder:

"... AIZAWA?!?"

"Eraserhead," you corrected gracefully.

A flurry of emotions crossed Bakugou's largely incredulous face, though he settled on merely repeating,

"You flirted... with Aizawa?!"

Forcing Bakugou to lower his volume was a lost cause, but you could control yours, "I had-not-met-you-yet-- remember that!"

And was it considered flirting? You could barely get a read on the guy

"Nah, I'm still stuck on my fucking teacher hitting on you... and you called him what?? You know how fuckin' old that guy is?!!"

"Thirty-nine." you fire back immediately.

"--HEH?"

And you can't stop-- though you have the gall to look a little sheepish.

"Scorpio. Ambidextrous. Has a white cat named after the title character of Samurai Jack."

"...."

"Went on Present Mic's show a few months back.. not that I had a notification or anything for when it aired-"

Bakugou stands in a rare moment of silence. Disbelief, rage, shock, and maybe something heated lay behind his eyes, but you honestly can't tell which is going to win out.

".. you're fucking with me."

"I am not."

"

"Absolutely not! Kats, he is never going to single me out of an entire room here, and think back to one patrol night out of thousands, that's ridicul--"

"Bakugou... 'Speedy'."

Alongside Kirishima's proud presence who had been anxiously awaiting this interaction stood Aizawa: fitted with his off-hours eyepatch but who clearly did -in fact- remember you.

As long as you avoid Bakugou's absolute stare of death, you can properly school your reaction to be one of perfect charm; as always when meeting other Pro-Heroes. It's not like you still hold any feelings whatsoever with this man... but you'd truly rather have this conversation anywhere else than beside your darling Katsuki, who's about to blow up if you so much as smile at his former homeroom teacher.

"Should I be scared that you remember me sans helmet, or flattered?" you offer pleasantly.

Aizawa gives a little bow to you before straightening up with a smooth reply, "I never forget a face."

If looks could kill, Shota Aizawa should be collapsing on the spot under Bakugou's eye. And even if you think it's a harmless comment, you know for a fact you'll be paying for it later.

--Scene--

To be continued, m'loves?

TLDR; Bakugou:

[wakeup-wakeup-if-its-all-you-do]

MHA S7 ED Analysis of the Official Music Video Part 2 [Part 1]

[Warning: manga spoilers]

You were always acting funny to hide your pain

This part is so sad! The boy in blue (Izuku's actor) is curled up and scared while all these hands are reaching for him- probably to represent the pressure of being the ninth/final holder and having to be the one face off against shigaraki + afo. It's a little hard to tell, but I played it back and I'm pretty sure there are exactly eight hands reaching toward him.

I was too dumb to realize it

And then it cuts to the boy in orange picking the green cape from the ground and blinking in confusion before looking back and forth across the field to see where the other boy went 🥺🥺🥺

I'm the one who made you wear that "strongness"

Y'all... I... I... 🥹🥹🥹

So are we all agreed this is about Katsuki bullying Izuku and his guilt for branding him with the name "Deku", later inspiring Izuku's reckless lack of concern for his own well being in order to prove that he isn't "useless" anymore? Cuz literally what else could this be about. It's so sad, there's a flashback to the boy in orange happily tying the green cape around the other boy's neck. The guilt and angst is on another level. Just... just... 😭😭😭

Searching for words to make the buds start to bloom

Y'all 🥹🥹🥹

The warmness you have continuously given me

Just... damn. It must be said again, the angst is on another level. The boy in blue runs away from the scary room he was in with the hands attacking him from what is probably a closet (👀👀👀) and goes back to one of their old hangout places to rebuild the dummy villain the boys destroyed earlier when they were playing. The boy in orange walks in and sees him and the stare at each other in surprise.

It planted seeds in my heart

Oh, Mr. Kacchan Bakugou, everyone but Izuku already knows!!

What's heartbreaking though, is the boy in blue turns around and lifts his arms up defensively over the dummy. Like he's afraid the boy in orange will destroy it. The boy in orange looks surprised but takes a small step closer without hesitation

Those flowers cannot bloom without you

Did I meant the angst hits HARD?!?! Because it's about to hit harder...

No matter what we do, we will never become one

We live each other's lives with different minds

Bakugou thinks that too many misunderstandings and conflicts have happened between them for him and Izuku to ever be close like they were before. He thinks he's hurt him too much in the past and irreparably mangled their relationship.

Nevertheless, my heart is crying with your pain

This reminds me so much of certain events in chapter 403 where a certain someone whose about to unintentionally explode his own heart from a quirk awakening thinks to himself about how the all the pain his body is going through is because he is now walking the same path a certain childhood friend of his had to walk when he was learning how to use OFA

Can I at least be by your side, even if we cannot understand each other

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Hoping that flowers will bloom side by side in the future

Ajejdjjdjdjsjjsjdj I feel like this just perfectly captures all of the "Izuku's" Katsuki says in his last moments (and even after resurrecting) and the yearning and how it's finally revealed he held onto the All Might card they won together even get all this time

My flower buds will never give up on the present

Ok there were just too many flashing scenes in this montage and I couldn't get all of them but here's one

Then it goes back to the two boys facing off in the shed and a close up of their faces. The boy in orange reaches out to the boy in blue

And then it cuts back to the band for a second before the video ends.

And now you too, can devolve into madness with me 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

[sophswritingthings]

FIFTH PART CUZ I'M IN TRAFFIC AND JM ABOUT TO FUCKING LOSE IT.

Anyways after the reader helps Mizu and shows hospitality she wake up the next day and a random ruffian shows up to her home to rob her and of course Reader holds her weight and fights diligently but the guy she's up against is like Chiaki level strong and she fails to fight by herself.

But allas her knight in shining armor Mizu kills the guy (Specifically beheading him because why not). And after that cues a montage of Mizu and Reader hanging out together and falling in love. 😍😍😍

pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader

warning(s): swearing

a/n: PART FIVE BABY HERE WE GO!!!!

summary: after taking in the strange samurai, you wake up the next morning to a man, pushing his way through your door. you hold your own, of course; but he’s too much. thankfully, you have a night in shining armor to protect you.

word count: 1,110 words / 5,890 characters 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you were asleep, so calm, so serene. it was surprisingly you were so calm despite having a strange samurai in your house.

but he hadn’t given you a problem all night; hadn’t stirred, never even made noise. for a strange house guest, he was quite the respectful one.

that’s when you were jerked away; a loud pounding through your door.

you sprung out of bed, grabbing the small knife that was nestled under your pillow. you kept that there just in case anyone.. came for you.

you leapt to your feet. when you made your way out of your bedroom and into the main room, you spotted a man.

he was absolutely ten times your size, and a lot stronger, too. but you weren’t some prissy girl who was gonna back down from a fight.

you leapt at him, barreling him onto his side, you were making slashes down his sides, through his chest.

it didn’t immobilize him, but it sure slowed him down for the time being.

he rolled you over, pinning you to the ground. he raised a katana above your head, ready to stab clean through.

you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the impact. 

slice.

the man stopped moving, dropping the katana on the ground with a loud clank.

it felt beside your head, your breathing heavy as you watched his head fall from his neck and onto the ground. you were splattered with blood.

you wriggled from under his weight, your breathing still heavy as you looked up to see who it was. 

mizu. the samurai. of course it was him.

“has he hurt you?”

those were the only words she said, not even taking a minute to acknowledge she’d just cut a man's head off and splattered your house with his blood.

you didn’t answer, to lost in the moment.

she grabbed you by the shoulder.

“snap out of it,” she hissed. “has he hurt you?”

you shook your head ‘no’, gazing at mizu with wide eyes.

“you saved me,” you huffed. “why in hell did you save me? i threatened to kill you, just yesterday!”

“you didn’t, though. here I am, standing in your house, under your hospitality,” mizu narrowed her eyes. “the least I could do is not let you die.”

you nod a little.

“thank you,” you bow your head in respect. “thank you.”

she nods solemnly, bowing her head just as you did. she stood up, sheathing her sword back in its scabbard. 

“my house is drenched in blood now, though,” you gather yourself to your feet. your white flowers were now drenched in the blood of your pursuer. 

she sighs, “I will help you clean,” she chuckles a little. “it is my fault that your house smells of the rotten blood of this man.”

you laugh back, “thanks,” you murmur.

she takes off her hat and glasses, placing them to the side. by doing so, it revealed those ocean blue eyes. they matched his name, didn’t they?

you grabbed rags, passing one to mizu before you began to clean up the dirty blood of this man.

long before you knew it—it had been weeks since she had left.

you had serviced the samurai in your keep longer than you had expected to.

you learned of her. you learned of her quest; that she in fact was not a man. Instead, a woman, masking herself as a man to complete said quest.

and you were certainly catching feelings for her, woman or not. “demon” or not.

one day you had been cooking; making noodles for the two of you to sit down and eat. she had been out, collecting herbs for you—when she had stumbled in. she had the herbs; but she was also covered in blood.

you had gone into full panic. what in the world had she gotten herself into?

whatever, that didn’t matter.

you had patched her up; rubbing her face of blood gently with a warm rag.

that’s when your eyes locked for the first time; holding that gaze maybe longer than you should have.

you were pretty sure that’s when you first fell for her; looking into the beautiful blue eyes as you cleaned her bloody face.

and the time that she had been cooking with you, and you had accidentally spilled noddles all over her garment.

you had both thought it was absolutely hilarious; the warrior covered in the noddles, herbs and spices that her hostess had been cooking up for her.

and the other time she had found you crying late at night, nestled in your bed. you had been looking over old letters from your family; why you did that to yourself, causing yourself that pain, she didn’t know.

but she had comforted you through it regardless. rubbing your back and keeping you close as you cried, letting all those pent up emotions out.

and here she was; still staying with you, it had been two months now. 

you were both smitten for each other. but you'd die before you admitted it.

you were staring up at the sparkling sky, watching the constellations turn around the world.

you would keep glancing at her. she was more beautiful to you than any star the sky could offer you.

so badly did you want to tell her your feelings. but you had no idea if she would even reciprocate; but you really wanted to try.

maybe words wasn’t the way to go..

you gently slid your hand closer to hers, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you did so. your face was on fire.

your fingertips brushed hers, which finally got her attention. you were sitting on the small rattan stairs to your cabin, your legs gently touching. 

she glanced at you, her eyes wide as she did so. but she didn’t slide her hand away; if anything, she slid it closer.

you wrapped your fingers around hers, smiling softly. the warmth was nice. god, it was so nice.

she rubbed her thumb atop of your knuckles. 

she smiled. it was tender. it was warm; it was… loving. It was something you had never seen from the samurai in the months you had been with her.

you leant in, your breath shuddering as your lips inched closer to hers. though it was her who closed the gap, her hand gently rested on the back of your neck.

you let you lips linger on hers for a moment; the feeling was soft and warm, something you had never felt before. 

you pulled back, letting your forehead press against hers.

the start to a love; to a beautiful, blossoming love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[drainslo]

Brains & Brawn- Chapter 1: Meeting

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You thought you had spent a little over two months in the Borderlands, as you leveled your rifle to kill a giraffe that was running away. It was strange how desensitized you were to killing things by now.

Niragi poked his head out from around a nearby enclosure. You pulled the earplug out of your ear to hear him complain. “—-got the giraffe? You know I wanted to kill it! Fucking lame.”

“Sorry, forgot about your obsession with big, tall things. Maybe it’s ‘cuz you’re projecting something you’re insecure about onto other things,” you rolled your eyes at Niragi’s tantrum.

Niragi frowned and pointed his sniper rifle towards you. You sighed and put the earplug back in your ear then stepped away from the glass window behind you. You knew what was coming next.

CRACK

The glass window shattered and you adeptly maneuvered away from the shards that now littered the floor. They twinkled like small pieces of stardust. Beautiful, but would cut you if you got too close.

“Niragi!” you protested in playful annoyance. He was the most melodramatic of the militants, so you knew that he would try to pull a stunt like this. Despite his mischief, you knew he would never do anything to seriously hurt you.

He hopped towards you across the glass and pulled out your earplug.

“Whoops,” he paused, then dropped it to the ground and walked away.

“Jerk! Get back here!” You sighed as you dismally looked at the fallen earplug. Niragi always called you lame for using one, but you didn’t want the sound of gunshots to damage your hearing more than necessary.

You then heard a familiar chime. Finally, the six of spades game was cleared. The start of a car engine running startled you, and you walked out of the zoo.

Aguni and the other militants were already waiting for you, and one seat was left for you. 

“What took you so long?” Niragi teased as you stepped into the car.

“I ran into some trouble on the way here by the name of Suguru Niragi,” you quipped back.

“You can kill each other back at the Beach,” Aguni said unimpressed and started driving.

“Aw, ‘shucks,” Niragi grumbled, but you knew he was being insincere.

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Once you got back at the Beach, Hatter appraised your group. “Six of spades? Great! Also great timing– I’m calling an executive meeting right now.”

You groaned in annoyance, because even though you were the Beach’s #9 militant, that didn’t mean you liked going to Hatter’s meetings. You’d rather do target practice with Niragi outside.

Aguni and Hatter led the way, conversing about something important as you trailed behind them with Niragi and Last Boss. 

“What do you think it’s about this time?” you smirked at Niragi, inviting him to join in on your disparagement of the executive meetings.

“I would bet my life that it’s either something absolutely insane, or absolutely moronic,” Niragi laughed.

Hatter pushed open the meeting room’s doors where the rest of the executives were already waiting, and a player you vaguely recognized. You never learned his name, but he was one of the few in the Borderlands that still maintained dyed blonde hair. 

The way his hair caught in the light, you admired, made it look like stardust. 

“Ladies, lads, I have a member here who is a most invaluable asset to the Beach,” Hatter’s eyes glinted in a way that made you feel extremely unsettled. He was plotting something, you were sure of.

Hatter dramatically paused before locking eyes with you. “I’m thinking of making him a new executive.”

Your heart dropped. Sure you were an executive, but you were the lowest ranking one. Hatter was directly threatening your position.

“Can’t you count? We already have all 9 spots for executives,” Niragi was always unabashed when it came to speaking against Hatter.

“I’m well aware of that. I compared the cards between (Name), and Chishiya here, and Chishiya almost has the same value as (Name). Wouldn’t it be unfair to the Beach if a member who was less worthy was ranked higher?” Hatter replied.

“Bullshit. The militants are already significantly less than your little group Hatter. If you could do math, you’d see that removing (Name) would disrupt the balance more,” Niragi said menacingly and propped up his gun against his shoulder, as if reminding Hatter who had the power to kill.

“Well, that depends on the card your group brought back. Did you say it was six of spades?”

This time it was Aguni who replied, “Yes.”

Hatter frowned for a second, and looked down at a piece of paper that I just realized he was carrying. He traced his writing with his fingers slowly and looked pensive for a moment before speaking.

“Well I’ll be damned. You two now are perfectly tied,” Hatter said, sounding disappointed.

“So, what does that mean now?”  You asked worriedly. You got the feeling that you weren’t exactly out of the woods yet.

Hatter paused again, presumably to think. You were surprised at how much thought he was putting into this. You looked over at Chishiya, who was staring blankly at a bug writhing on the floor. He looked oblivious as to the quandary Hatter now found himself in. 

In fact, you thought, it looked like Chishiya didn’t care about what was happening at the meeting at all.

An stepped forward, always the voice of reason. “There should be an evaluative measure to see who’s more deserving of the title. Maybe a duel of sorts between the two?”

You grinned, and brandished your rifle playfully. Chishiya made eye contact with you as you scanned him up and down. He had a lithe figure that was not particularly athletic. 

“I’d go for a gun duel any day. Or maybe even some sparring would be fun. It’s been ages since I last beat someone up,” you said. To your surprise, Chishiya didn’t seem the least bit intimidated.

Hatter waved you off almost immediately. “No, no, no! Chishiya– no offense– would get creamed. I’ll think about a way to determine who gets to keep the position. In the meantime, (Name) and Chishiya will share the number 9 executive room temporarily.”

“What?” you blurted before you could stop yourself. At this comment, Chishiya also appeared startled.

“I said temporarily. You know, just to see how things go. You can keep your room, (Name), and Chishiya can get a taste of the executive lifestyle. Plus, it’ll give me a chance to see how you guys handle things up close. So, what do you say–up for sharing a room for a while?” Even though Hatter had now phrased the situation like you had a choice, you knew that in reality you had none.

You sighed and lowered your head before nodding.

“I have no problem with it,” was the first and only thing Chishiya said coolly.

Hatter clapped his hands together. “Great! Executives dismissed.”

As soon as you exited the meeting room, you turned the corner to slide against the wall. You placed your rifle next to you, and used your arms to cover your head. This was the worst possible outcome of the meeting. 

“Hey, I need your key,” a voice interrupted your misery.

You uncovered yourself to look up at the person who spoke. Chishiya was holding his hand out expectedly.

When you didn’t move or respond, he prompted you again impatiently. “Hatter needs to make a copy for me.”

You ripped the key off your wristband and dropped it unceremoniously into his waiting palm before storming off with your rifle.

“Thanks” he said dryly to your back.

You went to find Niragi to kill him, because the meeting was not absolutely insane or absolutely moronic.

It was somehow a worse cocktail combination of the two.

[thoselethalarts]

𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 - 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

(R) Gym Uniform: “It’s All Part Of The Source Material.”

(NRC: Sports Field)

(Club Practice: Magical Shift Club)

Leona: Haaah… finally, cleanup is done.

Ruggie: You’re one to talk, you barely did anything other than put your broom away. Ruggie: Ugh… all that exercise and cleanup made me hungry. Oi Leona, how ‘bout you treat us to some supper for doin’ so good today~?

Leona: Yeah, sure, whatever. I don’t feel like dealing with cooking right now, anyway.

Ruggie: SA-WEET!! Hear that, everyone~? Leona’s treating us tonight! You’re the best, captain~!

Club: You’re the best, Captain Leona!!

Leona: Yeah, yeah, I know. Decide on what you all want, and I’ll order it.

Ruggie: Can do! Shishishishi~ Ruggie: Hey Epel and Vanta, you guys gonna come with?

Epel: I’d love to!

Vantablack: Nah, I can’t today. I got another club meeting I’m going to after we’re through here.

Epel: Oh, really? I didn’t know you were in another club, Vanta.

Vantablack: Something like that. It’s not an official club, yet. I’m still workin’ on it.

Ruggie: This is news to me too. I haven’t heard of any new clubs formin’ on campus, especially not any that run this late, and I really keep my ears to the ground around here.

Vantablack: Heh… well, if you did hear about it, that’d be a problem.

Ruggie: Yeah? How so?

Vantablack: Just one of the rules of the club. We’re tryin’ not to draw too much attention to ourselves right now.

Epel: That’s… a little weird. What kind of club is it exactly?

Vantablack: It’s nothing much. Just kind of a club where me and a couple of other guys get together to do some late night “working out”, in a way.

Ruggie: …That’s it? That’s a weird thing to be keeping under wraps.

Vantablack: Well, it’s cuz we stick to a more unconventional work out method is all. We have a pretty intense “regiment” we keep to. Getting hurt is a normal part of club activities, and part of the fun~

Epel: Getting hurt is part of the activities? That does sound intense. But, an exercise club sounds like fun though. Epel: I’ve been wanting to bulk up for a while now; maybe I should join you guys!

Vantablack: Heheh~ well, if you’re interested you could join us tonight. Vantablack: But, I’ll let you know now, if you decide to join us then you have to participate. That’s one of the rules of the club.

Epel: I’ve still got some energy left in me, so that’s fine by me. Sorry, I’ll have to join you guys next time, Ruggie.

Ruggie: That’s fine, just more food for us then. Have fun, Epel.

Vantablack: Alright, lets get going then! The other guys are probably waiting up for me anyway, they can’t start the club without me there.

Epel: Alright! Lemmie grab my bag, and we can go.

(Vantablack and Epel leave the field together)

(NRC: Mr. S’s Mystery Shop - Exterior)

Epel: So where does your club meet, exactly?

Vantablack: Over here. The Mystery Shop has a basement level that’s not being used, so we’re using it for our club meetings.

Epel: Really? Did Sam give you permission to do that?

Vantablack: No. But it’s fine, there’s nothing down here worth stealing or breaking, anyway. If he has a problem with it, he can talk to me about it.

Epel: O…kay…

(Vantablack and Epel descend down the wooden staircase to the basement level of the Mystery Shop)

(NRC: Mr. S’s Mystery Shop – Basement Level)

Epel: Oh, some of the other members are here already.

Heartslabyul Mob A: Hey Vanta! I brought a friend with me today! It’s his first day visiting.

Vantablack: Sounds good. Since you’re new, you’re gonna be first. Take off your shirt, your shoes, and anything you don’t want broken.

Heartslabyul Mob B: Yessir!

Epel: Uh… Vanta? What… is your club, exactly?

Vantablack: This is it, right here. This is my Fight Club.

Epel: F-Fight club?!

Vantablack: That’s right. Shut up and listen, and I’ll explain everything. You’re not the only newbie here tonight.

(Vantablack walks out into the center of the room, and the chattering amongst the members quiets down)

Vantablack: I see some fresh faces here tonight! That’s good~ For those of you new to the fight club, we have a few rules you have to follow. Vantablack: The first rule of fight club: you don't talk about the fight club. The second rule of fight club: you DO NOT talk about the fight club. Vantablack: Rule number three: when someone says "stop" or goes limp, the fight is over. Rule number four: only two guys to a fight, and one fight at a time.

Vantablack: Rule number five: No shirts and no shoes. Rule number six: fights go on as long as they have to. Vantablack: And rule number seven: if this is your first night at fight club… then you have to fight. Let the games begin~

Heartslabyul Mob B: Alright, I’m ready! Who’s first?

Scarabia Mob A: It’s my first night too, so I guess it’s me.

Heartslabyul Mob B: Right on! Let’s go!

(The two boys collide in a violent tussle in the center of the room, punches colliding with faces and stomachs, knees hitting chests, and kicks throwing one another against walls and to the floor. The other boys surrounding them hoot and holler with righteous excitement at the carnage.)

Epel: …This explains your talk of having an “unconventional” workout regiment, earlier. Epel: Is this why you don’t want people talking about your club…? Are you afraid it’s gonna be shut down if the headmaster finds out?

Vantablack: Nah, I’m not concerned about that. I mean yeah, he probably would try and shut it down, but that’s not the reason why.

Epel: Then… why?

Vantablack: It’s all part of the source material.

Epel: The… source material?

Vantablack: I’ve seen the source material at least a hundred times now in my memories. I know the rules, I know the game, and I know what comes after.

Epel: I don’t… understand. What do you mean, “in your memories”? None of that makes any sense.

Vantablack: Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to know what I mean, anyway. All you have to know is this… Vantablack: There’s always rules to things like this. You have to keep things formal, keep them strict, and keep them clean. Vantablack: It’s easier to control when there’s rules in place, both the people and the club. You keep them in control, keep them contained, then everything will fall into place after that. Vantablack: All I gotta do is keep with the script, and everything after that will be smooth sailing~

Epel: I, uh… see… I still don’t really understand, but I guess you make at least one good point. Epel: If you’re gonna host something rough and tumble like this, it’s better to make sure everyone’s playing by the same rules. It’s the easiest way to keep it in the club, not in the street, right?

Vantablack: Exactly~ You understand. Vantablack: So, Epel, you in? If you’re in, you’re gonna be the next in the ring. I’ll even do the honors of being your first opponent. What do you say~?

Epel: I… nggh…! I really want to! This is exactly the kinda hell I’ve been wantin’ to raise since before I got here to Night Raven! Epel: I’ve been waitin’ so long to actually have somewhere to let loose and go wild. Knowing this place exists now is like a dream come true! Epel: But… I can’t. If I start coming back to Pomefiore with split knuckles, a broken nose, and spitting up blood every week then Vil’s gonna give me hell. Epel: And knowing him, he’ll give you hell too for starting this and roping me into it. He’ll find out about your club and ruin everything for all of you.

Vantablack: Really? Are you that scared of him?

Epel: I’m not scared of him! I’m just… I know him, and I know for a fact what he’ll do. There’s no avoiding what hell will be waiting for both you and me if I get roughed up like this. Epel: If things were different, I would, but… I just can’t right now.

Vantablack: I get it, I get it. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, pipsqueak. Vantablack: Now you know my little secret though, and that makes you an honorary part of the club. Vantablack: So take a hike, and don’t come back until you’re ready for your initiation, got it? Otherwise, you’ll be breaking the rules here and now.

Epel: …I got it. I’ll- I’ll figure things out, and then I’ll come back and raise as much hell as I want, whenever I want! That’s a promise.

Vantablack: Atta boy, I knew you had the spirit of the club in you~ We’ll be waiting for you until then, Epel.

/ End

[yupyor]

† Glory Hole †

Summary • Things have always been heated between you and Billy, giving each other lewd glances and sensual lip-bites every time you walked past each other in the hallway. It's no wonder you ended up on your knees doing one of the most scandalous things one could do in the school's bathroom.

Y'all i tried being kinky😭😭😭 When i tell you this shit had me cringing!!!!

It took like 12 days(?) just for me to finish this LOL. This is my first time writing smut ever so i don't expect it to be good. kinda just wanted to post something and i was in the mood—👀—when i thought about this so. Haven't really proof-read it cuz if i do, then there would be no chance for this getting uploaded.

Warning : Smut? I tried to get real detailed with it but i honestly think i flopped so..... Bad smut ig?

It was unbearably hot in the room, the humidity of the air only intensifying the heady fumes left from the cleaning products the Janitor used in his dire chase for impeccability.

Billy was standing there before you, nothing but the thinness of the stall's wall separating you both and preventing you from staring into those seductive eyes of his. If it wasn't for the minor breach in the wall in front of you, you would have been completely oblivious to the beast of a meat sprouting before you.

You kneel on the ground, getting eye-level with the miniature hole serving as a direct entrance to the stall Billy was in, and breathed out.

The groan that resonated from him was so invigorating you couldn't help but train your eyes on the cause for it, the tint at the front-most region of his pants straining his tiny zipper, looking as if it were to buckle if the growing brute restrained by it were to expand anymore.

It twitched, movement eager, as if sensing your growing need to please it.

"Go on." Billy encouraged, his eyes fixating on the area he believed you to be, hands plastered up against the wall.

He couldn't see you, no, but his imagination and sense of touch had more than made up for that—your mere breath leaving him on edge. "Suck it."

And you do, the rawness of his voice sending goosebumps up the whole of your body, needy. It was magical, almost. The way those two words gave you a will to give in and serve him entirely.

You start off slow, lips parting as to increase the flexibility and cover-range of your tongue, and did one long, dirty, memorable stroke, the spit on your tongue soaking the once dry surface of his pants.

He moans, thrusting his hips forward at your contact, trying to make more use of your tongue.

You liked it.

That desperate need for pleasure he had.

It made him a different person. More submissive, even. The way his body would endlessly reaffirm your skill by trembling and twitching when you did something right.

Slow, deep breaths left him, his voice naught but low as he groans out your name, voice breaking.

Your tongue was a work of art that was slowly getting him to his wit's end, antagonizing him.

You take a step back, pupils dilating as you slowly inspect your doing. The crotch area of his pants was wet, entirely soaked through. You could more accurately make out the shape of his dick now—nothing but the word thick coming to mind as a fitting enough description for it.

That girth of his... It made you queasy—imagining what it would feel like to have something that looked nothing short of ethereal like that in you.

You cup it, touch delicate, and the first thing that came out of you was "Heavy," the mere weight of it sending a series of chills down your curved spine. You were enthralled.

Though that didn't last for long.

A deep, smug laugh reverberated against the thin walls, breaking you out of your trance and reinstating you, the volume of it close to mute. "Big, huh?"

You blush, unable to look away as Billy slowly unzips his fly, taking off the last of his clothing and revealing the bulging, quivering mass of flesh. "Imagine it six feet down your throat," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

The tip was red, the sprouting veins trailing from the base of his rod swollen.

His slit was leaking.

"Deep-throat it for me, baby, yeah?"

You swallow the lump in your throat, taking it in your palms as your pulse gradually slowed, eagerly getting up close and personal to fulfill that rumbling, seething need within you to just merge with it.

It was hard...

And warm...

And...and...There was no way you could deep-throat that.

You struggle to take a breath in, your words coming out slurred as you peel his skin back, the steadiness of your action making the rhythm of his breathing inconsistent. "….Yea."

He was uncut, the glistening layers of his foreskin a sight to see against the dirty blonde backdrop of his pubic hair. You swear you could permanently marvel at the way pre-cum kept oozing out of it.

Billy jerks his hips forward, the force of it tearing you out of your trance and reminding you of the task at hand. To please him.

Your strokes were slow, no doubt due to you still being dazed by your previous enthrallment.

He was rutting his hips against your pace—the motion causing a series of squelches to rebound the titled walls around you. If it wasn't for your mind completely prioritizing attending to the needs of the hunk before you, you would have long cringed at how loud the noises you were making were.

It made what you were doing riskier, especially taking into account that the doors were unlocked. If fate was as cruel as people thought it was, someone would've walked past the bathroom any minute now and immediately recognize what the two of you were doing purely from the sounds emitting from it.

You reach for the underside of his jewels, your approach delicate—as if you were smothering the most fragile thing in the world, and gently massaged them. He groans, his body shuddering at your touch.

You wish you could see his face. See the way his ragged breaths left him breathless. The way his pupils would dilate more and more the further in pleasure he fell—his eyebrows rising and falling in a mesmerizing dance, reflecting the pure, overwhelming ecstasy he was experiencing. The thought only encourages you, prompting you to take your attention away from his shaft and redirect it towards his glans, the action causing him to leak far more profusely.

The low, droning moans that leave him have you completely blanking, lost in the moment… Till he pulls back. You know why before he even hints at it, though. He was close, the eager throbs and bulging of his cock a dead giveaway.

"I'm close." He heaves out.

From where you're kneeling, you can see him resting his head against the wall, his sweat-soaked figure accompanied by his flustered breaths likely the reason for his chest's labored pace.

Billy looks at you, the deep blue eyes of his locking you in place. There was something in his stare that had you transfixed. Something primal, almost. Something… something dominating—you couldn't help but feel pinned down.

He wanted to claim you.

No.

Make a mess of you. Scent you.

He needed to. And if the strain near your crotch was of any indication, you wanted him to.

He once again approaches the hole in the wall, big, calloused hands guiding the thickness of his cock towards your mouth, his intentions more than clear. Suck it.

And you do. His scent was otherworldly. Hypnotic. The way it enchanted you to ditch all rationality. It was like falling in and out of consciousness, everything but his pulsing prick a blur restricted to the back of your head.

You open your mouth, your hold on it weak. It was thick. Too thick—and as you guided it in the direction of your throat, you could only hope it wouldn't scrape against your teeth. The action earns you another deep moan from him, slowly growing into that of a growl at the paced progression of your speed.

It started with soft pops here and there, a result of you going all the way to his base before pulling back, morphing into fast, wet slurps sounding the walls.

Billy was breathing fast, his head leaning against the right side of his upper-arm propped up against the bathroom stall, light-headed.

He was close.

You take your hands off of him, going as far down as you can with your gag reflex before taking a deep breath. His odor was far more eminent now. So intoxicating that you couldn't help but stay a few minutes there to just breathe him in.

Unfortunately for you,—or fortunately—that doesn't last long.

Billy pulls halfway out, not even giving you a second to react before he's thrusting back into you with newfound vigor and determination. Albeit still safe, his new pace is now haphazard and daring, igniting a spark of pleasure that neither of you had expected. It goes without saying that within a few minutes you're reduced to a slobbering mess of spit and tears.

He was thrusting deep into you, seemingly hellbent on proving your previous thought wrong.

"You like that?" He bemoaned. "Choking on my thick cock."

"Yea" Your response comes out muffled, and If it wasn't for the sly smirk that took Billy lips, you would have thought he didn't hear you.

"Fuck!" He groans, his body tensing as his throbs pick up to be something far more eager.

He pulls out of you, taking a step back before leaning his head against the stall's wall, his dick out and bulging in-front of you.

"Gonna fill you up with daddies cum."

You stick your tongue out, soft, needy moans erupting from the depths of your throat as you watch him jerk off, the overwhelming scent of his coupled with the erotic display before you sending your overstimulated mind into overdrive.

"You want that, huh."

"Yea."

"My hot, juicy cum inside you."

"Yes please."

He's gonna cum.

Long, thick strokes shoot out from the tip of his slit, the richness white texture of it a sight to see against the pinkness of your tongue.

Billy moans, a chorus of swear leaving his mouth as he goes thru his high, a series of shivers surging throughout his body. "...Fuck..."

His breath was less ragged now, opting for long, deep breaths as he marveled at the mess before him. He reaches his right hand out, caressing the side of your cheek and spreading the dense liquid around before removing his hand and placing it on you lip. "...Swallow"

And you do, his eyes glinting at your show of obedience.

He liked them submissive.

[eijirousbestie]

I’m not sure if my request have been sent to you or not but here we ge. Bakugou drawing with reader this time just quite and pace a day later he would notice reader putting his drawing in a nice and viable place in her wall like she is proud of him , im craving for some fluff🥹

Yes I got your last request too!! I try to crank these new stories out at least twice a month cuz of daily life but I got around to it today🫵🏽 I’ll combine ur last request with this one since it’s kinda the same premise. As always thank y’all for reading and I hope you enjoy! If y’all have any special requests PLS SHARE THEM WITH ME!! I’d love to write them<33

“Stick to art.”

painting together

peaceful silence

Bakugou is actually good at painting

may or may not have based the painting off of one I actually made…

* * *

“For the love of god will you stop hogging all the white paint?”

“Quit whinin’ will ya? I’ll hand it back just give me a sec here.” You in fact did not get the paint back in a few seconds. With the way he’s got it in a death grip you’re not entirely sure it’ll survive the trip back to you.

“Katsuki, your knuckles are literally turning white from how hard you’re squeezing the tube. You don’t even need that much.”

“You know the more you talk the less “enjoyable” this bright idea of yours is.” He places the tube of paint down on the ground next to your knee.

You both are in your dorm room, your usual tarp covering the flooring under you from any stray paint splatters. It was your grand idea to have the both of you paint together. Actually, it was to prove to Bakugou that painting wasn’t as easy as he chucked it up to be. It started with his comments about your art earlier in the week. You were working on another project for class and spent hours painting and refining the details. The boisterous blonde disrupted your thoughts in place of his own. Why the hell’s this taking so long? It’s just an apple, he’d question. To him, a painting should never take more than at least two hours tops. If anything, watching you paint for hours on end was the coolest thing to him because how could someone have that much patience? He’d never admit it though. And now here you both are, having a painting session in your room to prove to him it’s not as easy as he thinks.

Grabbing the now freed white paint you add a small glob of it to your palette, mixing the specific color you needed. You both have already been painting for almost an hour. It’s Saturday and you didn’t have anything better to do. Before you both started, you’d searched Pinterest for painting ideas. Scrolling through various cartoon characters, Bakugou settles on painting a simple white skull against a black background. The reference is such a him choice. You chose yours a little while after him but refused to tell him your idea. He rolled his eyes and started sketching on the small canvas you’d given him, occasionally asking you if his proportions were accurate.

You both had fallen into a quiet peace. The windows drawn to let the last bits of sun in. The soft sounds of your music thrumming through your small speaker. The slosh of water being dirtied up in solo cups as Bakugou cleans his brush. Just all around good vibes and harmless bickering here and there. You swear you’ve never seen him so relaxed, other than the time he fell asleep while you were drawing him. You look up from your canvas and catch a glimpse of Bakugou’s face. Trimmed eyebrows pinched together in a stare of pure concentration, his lips slightly tucked in as he works on the details of the skull.

His painting technique is quite impressive. Understandably not to your level, but if he took art seriously he could be one hell of an artist. The way he changes the pressure of his grip when outlining the teeth of the skull has you eyeing his piece in astonishment. Where the hell did he learn that from?

“You gonna keep starin’ at my shit or are you actually gonna give your input.” Your gaze lifts from his painting to him. You give a slightly confused look.

“Wait what.”

“Asked if I was doing this line stuff right but you looked lost as hell. Told you to leave that dope alone.” You roll your eyes.

“Ya mama. And yeah you’re doing it right. Just don’t make em too thick.” He side eyes you so hard you’re sure his eyes are about to roll out of his head.

“You’re lucky I’m goin’ to therapy.”

“Aren’t we all.” You give a brief chuckle and continue to work on your painting. The light pink background against the chosen figures ties the whole piece together. A particular song plays from the shuffle queue of your music library. It’s one that you and Bakugou both know. You quietly hum along, bobbing your head. Your ears pick up a rather deep tremor that joins your humming. He’s humming along too, eyes laser focused on his work. In the most non-corny way possible, you try to harmonize with him, doing decent until you miss a note halfway through. He makes sure you’re aware he noticed.

“Stick to art.” He snickers, shoulders softly shaking.

“Mind your business.”

“I’ll do what I wanna do.” He retorts. He’s so sassy and for what.

Another couple hours pass and you’ve both finished your paintings. Katsuki lifts his painted skull with pride, his ego through the roof. It’s actually a pretty solid painting. Albeit, simple, but not bad at all.

“Goddamn Kats, you didn’t do half bad.” You chide with a grin.

“Damn right. Told you this shit’s easy. Just gotta get over gettin stuck in the details.”

“That’s funny because you asked for my help with line work but go off I guess.”

“You’re just a resource. Gotta use what I can to get where I need to be.”

“Damnnn ouch. That’s all I am to you? Katsuki I’m hurt.” You feign heartbreak as you dramatically hold your hand over your heart.

“Idiot. You gonna show me what you ended up paintin’ or not?” You nod, grabbing your canvas and flipping it over to show him your piece.

His eyes are met with an image of two bears, one white, one brown. Their cheeks are smushed together in some sort of side hug. The brown bear does not look amused. He clicks his tongue and tilts his head.

“You really love cutesy shit don’t you?”

You shrug. “Not my fault the Pinterest bears were cute. Stay mad but I’m in my bag.”

“The fuck’s that even mean-”

“Shhh you’re being a hater right now.” He shakes his head as he chuckles deeply, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

“Yeah you’re really lucky I’m in therapy.” You laugh with him and reach for his painting that he left on the ground.

“You gonna leave this behind after you worked so hard on it?” You question. He shrugs.

“Don’t really got a place for it. I ain’t really into displaying things like you. You keep it or something.” You hold onto both paintings as he announces his departure to his room.

The next morning, he wakes up and starts his usual routine. Shower, brushing his teeth and skincare. The shuffle of his house shoes fills the quiet of the halls as he journeys to your room to make sure you’re up to go on your Sunday morning run together. He knocks once, twice and gets no reply. He jiggles the doorknob and he finds it unlocked, meaning you’re probably not inside. He opens your door and looks around to find no you. But what he does find makes his face go warm. There on the wall adjacent to the door, hangs his skull painting right next to yours. A ghost of a smile graces his lips as he shakes his head, closing the door to your room to go and grab you for your run.

bonus: the paintings y’all made

Bakugou’s:

Yours: *optional*

fun fact this is actually a painting I made a few months ago😭

[terristarstrike]

Terrina Ave-Lo

Character Lore:

Terrina Ave-Lo is half-Jotuzon and half-Human, hailing from the Giant homeworld of El-Doe. She is of Brindlian descent on her Jotuzon form, and Puerto Rican/Taino descent on her human half, and her mothers are Empress Genn Ave-Lo (her birthgiver) and Mayor Selina Nunez.

She is nicknamed as the Incredible Shrinking Giant and the Giant of Westshore. While she felt a little uneasy being called a giant at first, she was very quick to embrace the title and her enormous stature.

She was named Terrina after the planet Earth, symbolizing her connection to the planet. Terrina is also a play on the French word Terre, which translates to Earth.

Terrina is best described as the gentlest of giants. With a heart (or two) as big as her body, Terri is as loveable and clumsy as much as she is immense and powerful, but she also has a fierce and feral temper that only explodes whenever people get on her bad side.

Her status as the first and original Giant of Westshore makes her a well-known celebrity on Earth. The human civilians of Westshore have embraced herself as the town's "adopted daughter". It sure takes a village to raise a fifty-foot-tall child.

She shrinks down to human level for the times when she needs to attend school or hang out with her human-sized friends.

Terrina has a pet Morph named Gellatine. Gelli is a protoplasmic blob with the ability to shapeshift and camouflage. Because the Morphs have already evolved centuries beyond human speech, Gellatine only communicates to her owner with murmurs, squeaks, and her shapeshifting abilties.

After briefly living inside the Wilsons garage, she now has her own giant-sized home outside of Westshore, one that is called the Starship Pod. The Starship Pod is at least 10 stories tall, and is large enough to house at least 6 giants of Terri's size.

Terrina's hobbies include making DIY art with human trinkets, playing basketball, and singing karaoke with her friends.

Her go-to karaoke songs are "Together Again" by Janet Jackson and "Sittin' Up In My Room" by Brandy

Terrina is a true Cancer. Anyone who would dare to hurt her - or her friends - will have their pitiless little soul crushed to the ground like a bug, and hell hath no fury like a giantess scorned!

She always preaches about protecting the earthlings, but even she recognizes that not all humans are worth protecting. Some humans end up being so awful and irredeemable, that she could crush them underfoot and not feel a sense of remorse.

Terri often plays as the quirky ditz to Bailynn's super-smart genius, but she’s a lot smarter and cynical than she looks. 

She is fascinated and passionate about the tiny human species. Sometimes she loves being around the humans so much that she ends up isolating herself from her own people.

She has a turbulent relationship with her human mother, Selina. While Terrina is over-the-moon to have a tiny human mom, Mayor Selina often acts as her boss while also running the town, but she's also learned to be a kind and compassionate mother towards her newfound alien daughter. The Mayor often becomes a doting mother who is showing off her giant daughter as the town's (literally) biggest tourist attraction.

Terrina is Puerto Rican, through her human mother Selina Nunez. She doesn’t know much about being Puerto Rican cuz she’s a space alien, but she loves to eat all of the sweets that Selina bakes for her like pan de mallorcas and quesitos, and refuses to try mofongo or arroz con habichuelas.

She’s a very picky eater. She always eats french fries, ice cream, hot dogs, pepperoni pizza, and gummy candies. Granted, she has a diet that is more Jotuzonian than human.

She has a hilarious habit for mispronouncing human stuff she’s unfamiliar with, she also believes in misinformation about humans from her fellow Jotuzons, but she’s always willing to learn from the humans.

She has the heavenly singing voice of a Disney Princess™. While she mostly prefers to sing to herself, her voice is more likely to allure everyone around her.

Terrina's personality is as multifaceted as her heritage: She's curious, snarky, and constantly bursting with joyous energy. She's very sweet and gentle towards the tiny humans, but she becomes a fierce and terrifying force of nature when she needs to be. She absolutely DOES NOT play around when she's fighting for equality between Jotuzons and humans, and she is determined to convince the humans that the giants are not as terrifying or destructive as they imagine them to be.

Terri's a bit of klutz. As a micronized Giant, she retains her original giant strength, and she often tends to wreck everything in her path if she's not careful. She tries to neutralize her strength with her Jotu-Bracelet, but only a little bit.

She is the youngest daughter of the royal Ave-Lo family. Her older sisters are Azlin (she/her, 27 y.o.), Leyna (they/them, 23 y.o.) and Rayna (she/her, 18 y.o.).

Terrina was born eleven minutes after her twin sister Rayna. Terri was the planned child, but Rayna came out as a surprise.

The Empress kept both of the twins' half-human identity a secret for the longest time, but even their own sizeshifting abilities was harder to conceal.

Terrina felt inadequate compared to her "normal" sisters, and even worse when she shrunk down for the first time, but as she grew up, she learned to embrace her "noncomformity" as a way to sneak around the palace walls and collect human-sized trinkets in her explorations. However, Rayna doesn't prefer to shrink as often as Terri does.

She likes to joke that Rayna kept complaining to the Empress to give her a seperate room because she couldn't stand Terrina's strange obsession with humanity.

Rayna and Leyna were very protective of Terri growing up, they were the only known Jotuzons who knew about her sizeshifting powers and they watched over her safety when she shrunk down.

She had a huge collection of human artifacts in her closet and collects human-sized trinkets scattered all over El-Doe.

As the youngest daughter of Empress Genn, she remains unsure of her purpose in the royal family. She’s not a natural born leader like her eldest sister Azlin, or a genius intellect like her elder sister Leyna, or a fierce warrior like her twin sister Rayna, but she wants to be an advocate for the Jotuzons to peacefully co-exist with humans.

As opposed to Bailey wanting to leave her mark on the world, Terri prefers to go with the flow and focus on having a happy life with the things that make her life worthwhile.

Despite not being fully fluent in Spanish, Terrina started to uses Spanish endearment words to refer to Bailynn like “chica, corazón, muñequita, mi vida”, doing so makes her feel more in-touch with her human half.

She doesn't understand why some humans want to go to war with each other. She believes in harmony, peace and acceptance for ALL humans and she wants to help as many of them as she can.

Regardless of where she was born, Terrina considers herself an honorary Earthling through her mixed-species blood.

She has one mission on her mind: Stop the war. Mend the broken bond. Peaceful coexistence is how the humans and Jotuzons can learn about each other's worlds and understand each other, in spite of their size differences.

[iwonderwh0]

Watching saltburn because I hear too much about it

Spoilers ahead!!! If you haven’t seen it but planning on, scroll away, cuz there are some twists that are worth experiencing first-hand. The internet made it look like it’s gonna be some trash shock movie, but it’s a really false advertisement I’d say.

Ohh, I love the beginning, it promises theatrical, level of over the top drama, just how I like

Thank god there are subtitles I can barely understand their accent

Damn, I just thought about how what I know about this movie reminds me of “Bright Young Things” and now one of the characters straight-out mentions the novelist who wrote the “Vile Bodies” (screenplay the movie Bright Young Things is based on) was basically writing about his family. Okay, so that was really spot-on impression

What’s Felix’s deal? 🤔 it looks suspiciously like love-bombing from his side what he’s doing

Damn, Oliver might be as weird as that math nerd with anger issues if not weirder. Only 20 minutes in, and our protagonist is already a creepy stalker

Oliver what the fuck, what was this sudden condescending parent mode switch with cleaning up as if just to be arrogant about it 😂

I feel like Felix might be in danger, I don’t trust Oliver anymore

Honestly I’m not even sure if Oliver is telling the truth, he might be straight out lying to gain sympathy, kinda looks like it

I really don’t understand why Felix keeps Oliver around. I don’t think he likes him that much as he is trying to show at all, and he already showed his gratitude for that bike. It’s like he needs him for something maybe?

Oh so Oliver did tell the truth

What does Felix wanttttttt I’m so confused

The complete shift of the room to instantly shower Oliver with compliments what’s up with that? Is it some rich people thing??

And instantly back to talking shit about the person who just left! Damn that really is theatrical shit

“But he spoke Russian all the time and it just sounded so romantic” lmaoooo no it did not 😭

The way they talk!! Jesus Fucking Christ, what an impressive skill of bullshitting. Absolutely no one mean what they say, that’s even impressive

Oh, MGMT!

Oh, I’ve heard something about the bath scene

Belle Delphine bath water, is that it? Is that the level of gross that impressed people?

The fucking mind games everybody is playing oh boy

I don’t understand what’s going on anymore

Is Oliver just trying to prove he’s not gay?

Oh the fucking song pick oh my god this is painful to watch and I don’t even like Oliver

I’ll have to watch some explanation after this movie, it’s so confusing, what happened

Oh, will it turn out that he lied about everything?

SO I WAS RIGHT ABOUT SUSPECTING IT

Oh my god

Oh my god

Fuckkkking Oliver the migraines he just keeps going Jesus Christ

Is he gonna kill Felix? I feel like someone will get killed, maybe even on accident

Wait but HOW

Was it the wine?

Is he stabbed to the ground, why can’t they move him?

The lunch scene, red curtains, wine that overflows the glass ohhh boy I love that

Oh here goes the gravefucking

Wait, I thought the movie is about to end, but there’s still quite some time on the timeline

Oh for FUCK’S SAKE this was so sudden

“Is everything alright?” God are you stupid? What kind if question is that 😭😭😭

Ohhhhhh the reveal

Ohhhh so it was the wine

Damn

I actually liked it a lot

As a movie I mean

And Oliver is such a realistic psychopath in a way he pretends to be harmless pathetic loser, oh my god, Good job

[viktoriakomova]

im rewatching the early 2000s parkettes cnn documentary (cuz i made a "quitters try" joke to my friend earlier lmao) and like...... jesus im so fucking glad that ~15 yrs later gym culture evolved to the point where ncaa isnt seen as a shitty consolation prize anymore but its own separate thing/path....

theres a lot to unpack there of course (and many others have done it for us in years prior lol) but one relatively subtle thing that stuck out to me was one brief moment on camera with a gymnast's dad saying to her, [paraphrase:] "well do you want to go all the way or should we just abandon this altogether?" like as if there was no middle ground between being an olympic contender and just quitting the fucking sport entirely?

failing to consider the OuTrAgEoUs suggestion that dropping down to/remaining at a less intense level would make his kid, i dunno, a happier child? one who is still obviously talented and driven and detail oriented and successful but just wont beat herself up about not being one of the 1% of former L10s who make it to the elite national team, let alone the fucking olympics? jesus

again i understand that its not the same as it used to be and its far more popular now than it was in this era, but like......... performing in front crowds of thousands, sometimes 12k+, people isnt NOTHING yknow? maybe it wasnt then at the time this was filmed but that obviously absolutely isnt the case now, esp with the tv coverage that top 10 ncaa teams' meets get

as much as we rag on a whole bunch of shit about both elite and ncaa i just think its nice to take a moment to appreciate how far we've come. there is of course much room to grow and a lot of work to be done. but its heartening how in 2023 for every olympic medalist there is a L10 star who knew elite wasn't their path. for every kyla ross there's a selena harris. for every trinity thomas there's an alex mcmurtry. etc etc etc.

[ya-jirushi]

Tsurune Audio Drama: A Shot of Color 6 Shiragiku-san goes to Karaoke

I was happy we have an audio drama with the girls just hanging out after their focus ep but I didn't ask for all this schoolwork... Notes: - Yuuna's talking about how when the big plate of fried chicken comes out and everyone races to get pieces they like - Just in case it's unclear she means letting people stay to study in the lib instead of just borrowing the books - The three notes that come after are all kiiind of related but ngl there's no good way to put this in eng bc they're related to irregular verb conjugations in jp grammar: ari ori haberi ima so kari (ありおりはべりいまそかり/ 在り居り侍り在そがり) is a mnemonic ppl use to remember the verb conjugations for verbs that end in ru in old jp the words themselves are all variations of 'to be', na ni nu nuru nure ne is for verbs ending in nu, and ka ki ku kuru kore koyo are for the verb kuru

Noa: This… This is… It’s the so-called ‘karaoke room’! Yuuna: Aren’t you a bit too impressed at it? Rika: Eh? Is it your first time at somewhere like this? Yuuna: No way… Noa Why, yes it is! The first time in my life! Yuuna: Noa-chan, last time you said it was your first time eating okonomiyaki too, didn’t you? Noa: Okonomiyaki! That was wonderful too! The spicy sweet and sour taste of the sauce, the dancing bonito flakes, and the soft and delicate– Yuuna: Yes, yes, that’s enough of the okonomiyaki hymn. For now, why don’t we get our textbooks out? Noa: U-Um… I hear that food and drinks are brought to you automatically at karaoke places, is that true? Rika: Calling it ‘automatic’ isn’t exactly accurate, but if you go and order from that phone over there an employee brings it for you. Noa: What ground-breaking service! Yuuna: I’ve always thought this, but… just how detached from reality is your household, Noa-chan? Do you possibly not know about the fried chicken scramble* either? Noa: Why would it become a scramble? When it could all be placed and separated properly when served… Rika: Do they not bring out the food on big plates at your house, Noa? Noa: Did I say something odd? Yuuna: Nope, just about as we expected~ Rike: Well, our agenda for today is to study for exams, isn’t it? Let’s get started. Yuuna: It’d be nice if the school would just keep the library open… I mean, really, all they do is let us borrow books at a time like this?* Rika: If they did that it’d be filled with people having study meets like we are. Noa: Though as a result of that, I was able to learn about the world of the ‘karaoke room’, the future is truly unpredictable. Yuuna: What an optimist! I’ll take a page from your book~ Rika: Alright, alright, back to studying, guys. Yuuna: Yes, ma’am~ Yuuna:You’re good at english, right Seo? Rika: I guess, but that’s ‘cuz I like it. I want to work somewhere where I can use english in the future. Yuuna: You’ve thought that far ahead? Rika: It’s more like a dream, like wanting to study abroad or wondering how I could become an interpreter. Yuuna: That’s so cool, Seo, it suits you! Being good at both kyudo and english, you’re amazing! Rika: Really? Hearing you say that boosts my confidence. Yuuna: Ehh? Wait, wait, that’s just ‘cuz I’m only at the level where the difference between transitive and intransitive verbs or present perfect and present perfect progressive tense are just things I go “That looks good, let’s just leave it!” though. Rika: Increasing your grammar skills and vocabulary are the keys to improvement. Yuuna: I mean, I know that– Noa: Ari, ori, haberi, ima so kari!* Yuuna: Eh, what are we talking about? What? Noa: Na ni nu nure nure ne!* Yuuna: W-Wait, Noa-chan, stop~! Noa: Ka ki ku kuru kure koyo!* Yuuna: The english I worked so hard to remember is going to leave my brain! Rika: Noa, if you keep practicing irregular conjugation instead we’re gonna start charging you. Noa: Eh? That’s…a joke, right? Rika: …Is it? Yuuna: It’s really not a good idea to do that outside of study meets and karaoke, there’ll be an optional fee. Noa: Is that true…? My apologies. It’s just that, I felt a bit envious when you and Seo-san started talking about the future, so I just… Yuuna: Kidding~ Noa: Huh? Yuuna: There’s no such thing. Rika: I think it’d be good if you learned a bit more about this stuff, Noa. Yuuna: What did you want to do in future, Noa-chan? C’mon, tell us~ Noa: I… I think I’ll probably do what my parents choose for me. Yuuna: Eh? In this day and age? Noa: Yes. Although I do have things I’d personally like to do, I’m still a part of my family lineage so I think it’s natural to consider what my parents would want. Yuuna: I see… Rika: But it’s not like you’re doing it against your will, right? Yuuna: Have you thought it over for sure? Noa: Well, yes, I have. Rika: It’s all the more that you should learn about the world around you. You have to try and find what the best solution might be. Yuuna: Now those are words to live by! Rika: It’s nothing grand, it’s a reminder to myself too. Noa: I understand. I’ll put even more effort into my studies as well. Yuuna: Me too~ Noa: But first, as this is a rare opportunity… I’d like to learn the ways of karaoke!

[connorsui]

Now before I even dare to start this commentary off with any of my words I firstly gotta apologize for the way I was on my knees on the last chapter ..that episode had me hard core to the ground that I had to call an ambulance for the way my heart was shattering to pieces ..that I swore ..to my own core and my soul I wasn't surviving – however this latest episode in the series that I guarantee to yall if it was made by HBO it would be an hour and eight minutes long …it had me continuously pacing around the room like I had no where else to go

It was so bad that I swore I was having another event of Maladaptive Daydreaming …just thinking the ways this man Sylus be having me like this and our own personal husband Xavier be trying all he can to find us…it be giving me that level of sheer devastation

Though allow me to shut up and sit back down because yall didn't come here to witness me give another ounce of pre-approval before the order –

Now I find it so fascinating that sylus has decided to make our eyes into the main key that allows us in into what is supposed to be our cage …our main residence in the home that we find so overwhelmingly disturbing …he wholeheartedly believes that if we would ever to escape again ..we would want to go back inside his home as we might sooner or later see it as a sanctuary of safety ..a disturbing and overall sense of possible security – and we might say we would never use it by throwing insults ..however ..I can't help myself but to think that if we would to ever get in a situation like that again …we might end up using it ..even thought we might make us feel and be seen as weak

The traumatizing events of what we had experienced with the other man last episode was so lingering with the way you have described our now possible trauma when sylus tried to come near us in that bathtub ..even though he says he won't do anything ..that little chance of having him do such a thing after we have just experienced is so horrific to me that it lowkey has me recoiling a little …especially with what I'm about to discuss with yall

The smut …

Now listen ..LISTENNN TO ME BEFORE YOU MAKE OPINIONS – that smut was hot ..traumatizing..but hot ..IF we take the context away ..however if we add the context to the scene ..you can add sum sad “game of thrones” melody to the background of that smut and it would make you realize just how horrifyingly captivating the entire sequence really was– it kind of makes me personally feel as if we have completely given ourselves to sylus at that moment even before we have tried countless times ..again again again and again that we wouldn't do such a thing ..and he can say that he would take care of us ..us and the baby ..but yall – I cannot express to yall enough just how much that entire smut scene had me staring at the wall for a brief moment for silence..cuz ..excuse me ..but what the fuck -

We have ..unfortunately..allowed ourselves get deeper inside this manz hands ..and I do not think it's gonna end anytime soon ..like two episodes worth? ..nah ..this ain't the series that does it ..make it twenty because our hearts and brains alike are gonna suffer in the hands of this author's beautiful writing 🩷

However before I even dare to go – I just hope Xavier figures out who we were talking about ..he has already suffered with his car being taken ..but walking on foot in a city we couldn't even survive in? ..I'm praying to my God that he makes it out of there ..

I'm praying with tears

His Watchful Eye Pt. 6

Word Count: 15.k...(oops)

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, dubcon, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding, comfort sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation if you squint, mentions of murder, nightmares, manipulation, pet names like, kitten, sweetie, honey, tw for panic attacks, rape flashbacks, xavier 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,

AN: Hi everyone! This is also on A03! Please someone stop me, how the hell did I manage to squeeze in like 4k extra words than last time??? Anyways, enjoy the meal, I definitely have missed writing smut with yan!sylus and reader :3. Also a gentle reminder that reader has no specific skin tone! I just use images that I think represent the chapter well, you can imagine her however you’d like ^^

"I'll make it all disappear," Sylus murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, penetrating the darkest recesses of your fractured psyche. It was as if he possessed the power to reach inside your mind and vaporize the painful memories that clung to you like shackles. "You want to feel so good you won't think about him again?"

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt. 5

The car roars down the empty road, its tires devouring the distance between freedom and your inevitable return to captivity. Luke sits at the wheel, his face completely hidden behind the bird shaped mask. You can’t see his eyes, can’t gauge anything from the way he’s holding himself—just the silent, unyielding presence of the man steering you back to your prison.

You wonder how he sees out of that thing.

Kieran sits beside him, his mask just the same, his fingers tapping a light, almost carefree rhythm on the dashboard as he finishes humming a cheery tune. His face, too, is entirely concealed, leaving you with nothing to hold onto—no eyes to search for clues, no expressions to read.

In the rearview mirror, you sense Kieran shift his head to look at you but can't entirely tell, his hidden gaze offers you nothing. The silence stretches on, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the steady, deliberate breaths of Sylus against your neck, the heat of his body keeping you trapped in more ways than one.

Sylus holds you tight, as if the moment he loosens his grip, you’ll dissolve into the darkness beyond the windows. His large hands are splayed possessively across your thighs, pinning you in place on his lap. Each minute that ticks by in this confined space feels like a countdown to something you can’t define, but the feeling of impending dread settles deep in your bones.

Your mind is a storm, thoughts swirling in an endless, chaotic loop. The gunshot that ended Reese’s life thunders in your head, over and over, refusing to let you go. You can still see it so clearly—the way his body slumped to the floor, lifeless, his eyes wide with the shock of it all.

It feels like it’s eating you alive.

This is your fault.

Yes, Reese was a monster. He’d kidnapped you, lied to you, dragged you into a nightmare you never deserved. But even now, that part of you—the part that still clung to honor, to a sense of right and wrong, the part of an honorable deep space hunter—hated what had happened. You hated yourself for it. He should have been locked away, brought to justice, not gunned down like that.

Your chest tightens. Why didn’t you stop it? You could have, couldn’t you? You didn’t have to let your anger take over, didn’t have to spit those words at him, didn't have to tell him to go to hell. If you hadn’t done that, Sylus wouldn’t have killed him right? The weight of it presses down on you, like you’re suffocating under the guilt.

You can feel it in your bones—the sharp sting of your failure, the way you let your emotions run wild. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to be the reason a person died, no matter how twisted or evil they were. You were supposed to be better than that.

But you weren’t.

And now Reese’s blood is on your hands.

The guilt coils tighter around your chest. You can almost taste the bitterness of it on your tongue, a relentless reminder of how you failed. Maybe if you had just kept your mouth shut. Maybe if you had found some way, any way, to de-escalate the situation, he’d still be alive. You wouldn't have to carry the weight of his death.

But you didn’t. And now it’s too late.

This is your fault.

You feel tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly suck in a breath, forcing them back. You can’t let them fall—not here, not now. You can’t let Sylus see the storm raging inside you. If he sees you faltering, sees your weakness, he’ll think he’s won.

You sense his eyes on you, watching, studying, but thankfully, he says nothing. His grip around you tightens slightly, as if he’s aware of the cracks forming in your resolve, but for once, he stays silent, leaving you alone with the war you’re fighting within yourself.

Instead of crying, you shift, turning your head to focus on the window. The dark tint makes it difficult to see clearly, but not impossible. You can just make out the blurred outlines of buildings as they whip past, vague shadows in the distance.

How much longer would this take? How far had you come?

You think back to the agonizing walk that had led you to the convenience store—the endless hours of trudging through unfamiliar streets, hoping for an escape. Time had lost all meaning then, just like it had now.

Lost in your thoughts, you feel your body betraying you, your exhaustion creeping in. You start to drift off against your will, feeling the heaviness pulling at your eyelids as you sink further into Sylus’s lap. You fight it, not wanting to rest your head on his chest, fearing what you might wake up to. But it’s been days since you’ve had proper rest, and the pull of sleep is relentless.

Minutes stretch into eternity, and despite your best efforts, your body begins to give in. You’re teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when suddenly, Sylus’s gruff voice cuts through the silence, startling you awake.

“Luke, tell the chefs to have dinner ready in an hour. Kieran, cancel my meeting with the general.”

Luke and Kieran both nod silently, their masked faces giving nothing away, and just as you’re trying to make sense of the words, the car abruptly comes to a stop.

“Yes, boss!” the twins respond with a clipped tones, as if this exchange is routine.

Everything happens so quickly. The moment the car parks, Luke and Kieran scramble out of their seats with swift, practiced efficiency. The sound of the doors opening and shutting echoes in the quiet night. Sylus shifts beneath you, opening his door, and you awkwardly slide off his lap, trying to maintain some semblance of balance as he exits the vehicle. You watch through strained, weary eyes as he steps out, his figure towering over the open car door. Then, he stretches out his hand toward you.

You hesitate.

The gesture, though outwardly polite, is anything but friendly. It’s not an offer—it’s a command, an unspoken reminder of your captivity. The world seems to close in around you, the air growing thicker, and your heart begins to pound in your chest. Your mind races, but there’s nowhere to run.

“If you’re thinking about driving off,” Sylus says with a low chuckle, leaning down to peer into the car, “Luke’s already got the keys, kitten.”

You can’t help but shoot him a sharp glare. You’d thought about running, yes, but not now—not when escape was utterly impossible. The moment passes quickly, and you open your mouth, wanting to explain yourself, to insist you weren’t planning anything. But the words stick in your throat, useless.

Instead, you shut your mouth, swallowing your frustration, and glare at him in defiance. Wordlessly, you reach out and take his hand. His grip is firm, possessive, as he helps you out of the car. Carefully, you step onto the ground, your heart still racing, knowing you’re walking back into your cage.

You glance around as Sylus pulls you forward, your hand still trapped in his. The sight of the mansion looms ahead, its grand, imposing silhouette becoming clearer with each step. Tall iron gates and bird statues loom in front of you, a place that might have been beautiful if it weren’t for the dread curling deep in your chest.

The mansion is more than just a building; it’s a cage, one that now feels even more suffocating as Sylus forces you to walk beside him, hand in hand like you’re something precious. But you know better. This is control, a quiet but undeniable display of power.

With each step toward the front door, the walls of the world seem to close in tighter, and your heart races faster. The echoes of your own footsteps blend with the eerie silence of the night, the only sound that reminds you how very trapped you are in this place—never truly alone, but never free either.

As you walk toward the towering front doors, your eyes drift upward, almost unconsciously, to Sylus. His appearance has always been striking—red eyes that seem to glow with a mix of malice and amusement, and white hair with subtle gray undertones, catching the faint light of the mansion. His angular features, so sharp and perfectly controlled, show signs of wear now. You can see the tension in his brow, the tiredness in the slight creases around his eyes—things you hadn’t noticed before. It makes you wonder how much stress your escape had caused him. How much had he sacrificed in the time you were gone? Had he been frantic, furious?

As if sensing your gaze, Sylus turns his head slightly, catching you in the act of studying him. A smirk plays across his lips, and his crimson eyes flicker with amusement. "What’s the matter? Falling in love?" His voice is a low drawl, teasing, but there’s something predatory in it—like he’s already enjoying this little game.

Heat rises to your face, a mixture of irritation and something else you refuse to name. You look away quickly, forcing yourself to focus on anything but him. His taunts are the last thing you want to entertain, especially when your mind is still spinning with the weight of what lies ahead. Still, the words linger, taunting you as much as his smirk did.

Finally, the massive front doors loom before you, framed by the same wrought iron and heavy stone that always made the mansion feel more like a fortress. Sylus stops, standing tall beside you, his hand still gripping yours as if to remind you that escape, or even defiance, is out of the question.

He gestures toward a small panel embedded into the wall near the door. "Lean down," he orders, the edge of his voice soft yet commanding, "in front of the scanner."

Confused, you glance between him and the scanner, unsure of what he’s planning. You hesitate, but his unblinking red gaze locks onto you, expectant, leaving you little choice. Slowly, you lean forward, lowering yourself until your eyes are aligned with the scanner. A soft beep fills the air, followed by a click as the door unlocks.

You straighten, startled, staring at the door in disbelief. "Wait," you stammer, turning to Sylus. "Aren’t you trying to prevent me from escaping?"

A deep, rumbling laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head, the white strands of his hair shifting slightly as he leans in closer, his red eyes flashing with amusement. "Your eyes," he says with a grin, "can only get you into this place." He leans in further, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Not out."

His words settle heavily in your chest, and a knot of dread tightens in your stomach. Your eyes—the very thing that could open doors here—were also the key to locking you in. Any hope you might have had, any fleeting thought of escape, is crushed in that moment. The world seems to warp, the walls of the mansion now looming around you like a trap. A cage disguised as opulence.

Why had he even bothered with something like that? The thought gnaws at you as you stand at the threshold of the mansion. Did he seriously think you would ever want to come back inside? The idea seems absurd. You were his captive, forced into this nightmare. There was no version of this where you willingly returned.

But as you glance back at him, his smirk still lingering on his face, you wonder if that’s exactly what he wants. He’s a man who thrives on control, on bending people to his will, and the thought that he might relish the idea of making you come back to this place, on your own terms, sends a shiver down your spine. Would he leave you out there in that desolate city, waiting, desperate, only to watch you break down and crawl back inside? The idea feels like a twisted game only he could design—where escape was impossible not just because of physical barriers, but because he'd burrowed deep into your mind.

You shake your head, trying to push the thought away, but the question lingers, settling like a weight in your chest. Did he think that, over time, you’d surrender? That this grand mansion, this cage, would eventually become a place you’d walk into willingly?

Sylus catches your hesitation, his red eyes glinting in the low light. “Strange, isn’t it?” he muses, his voice smooth and casual, as if he could read the questions racing through your mind. “A key that only lets you in. But maybe someday…you'll want to use it.”

His words hang in the air, and you can feel your pulse quicken, anger mixing with the uncertainty swirling inside you. He can’t seriously believe that, can he? That one day you’d walk back into this place of your own accord?

The very thought of it makes your stomach turn. You can’t imagine a future where you wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to stay away from here. Yet, there’s an unsettling confidence in the way he says it, a certainty that leaves you with more questions than answers.

“As if I would ever, prick,” you spat, your voice sharp and defiant.

Sylus laughs, his amusement rolling off him in deep waves, rich and unhurried. His red eyes gleam, locking onto yours with a look that holds something deeper than mere satisfaction. There’s affection there—twisted, yes, but genuine.

“Ah, there she is,” he murmurs, his grin widening. “I was starting to wonder if the N109 Zone had fully broken you.” His grip tightens, not painfully, but firm and reassuring, as he leads you into the grand mansion. To him, this was always meant to be your home, even if you couldn't see it yet.

You grimace at his words, irritation bubbling up inside you, making your heart race. This was still a game to him—a challenge, but not one born of cruelty. No, he found your defiance amusing, like a kitten batting at the hand that feeds it. He loved it, even.

You silently curse him under your breath as he leads you deeper into the grand house, your feet moving mechanically while your mind fights to keep up. The familiar sights come back into view, flooding your senses like a slow wave of nausea. The glossy black tile beneath your feet, the dark, lavish décor that loomed from every corner—it was all the same, just as cold and suffocating as you remembered.

Your eyes flick to the kitchen entryway, a place that had once offered a glimmer of hope, a chance to escape. You remember fleeing into it, heart racing, desperate to get away from all of this, only to be dragged back into Sylus’s grip. The memory gnaws at you, bringing a fresh wave of bitterness.

It makes you sick.

Every inch of this place, every dark aesthetic, seemed designed to remind you of your captivity. This was a cage, no matter how opulent or luxurious it appeared on the surface. And the worst part was the weight of his hand around yours—the possessiveness of his grip, the unspoken reminder that escape, no matter how hard you tried, was out of reach right now.

Sylus gently guides you toward the stairs, his grip still firm, giving you no room to hesitate. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as your feet start moving up the dark, winding staircase. Every step feels heavier than the last, your pulse thrumming in your ears as memories flood back—memories of when you had fled, heart racing, legs burning, desperate to escape this place. You’d made it down these very stairs once before, only to have freedom ripped away from you.

Now, you were being forced back up, step by agonizing step, into the room you had fought so hard to leave behind.

With every step upward, your resolve starts to crumble. The closer you get to that door, the more you feel the weight of your captivity settling in again, suffocating you. The darkened hallways, the oppressive silence—it all presses down on you, reminding you that no matter how much you fight, this is where you’ll always end up. Trapped.

You hesitate when you finally reach the door to the bedroom. The sight of it makes your stomach twist, your feet glued to the floor as a wave of dread washes over you. Everything in your body screams not to go inside, not to let yourself be locked in that room again. To run, to fight.

But Sylus is right behind you, close enough that you can feel his presence, his breath warm and steady, almost unnervingly calm. His grip on your hand softens, his thumb tracing a slow circle against your skin, as if to soothe your frayed nerves. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice gentle but laced with that unsettling authority. “Go on, sweetie.”

The way he says it is almost tender, but it only deepens the knot of anxiety in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s real kindness or just another layer of control. That soft, coaxing tone… it unnerves you more than his laughter, more than his taunts.

Despite every fiber of your being wanting to resist, you find yourself moving, stepping forward under the weight of his quiet insistence. You cross the threshold into the room, your body betraying you even as your mind screams to stop. The door clicks shut behind you with an almost imperceptible finality, and just like that, the familiar four dark walls of your prison close in around you once more.

You fight back the tears burning at the edges of your eyes as you step further into the room. The familiar surroundings feel like a punch to the gut—the large, imposing bed where Sylus had forced himself on you many many times, leaving behind scars you hadn’t realized had cut so deep. The leather couch in the center of the room, cold and impersonal, where you’d sat, waiting for the next wave of control to sweep over your life.

It’s too much.

For a moment, your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, the weight of it all pressing down with crushing force. The memories—dark, suffocating—swirl around you, making it hard to breathe. You almost crumble right there, unable to withstand the flood of emotions, of trauma that suddenly feels too close to the surface.

But before you can collapse, Sylus is there, his hand wrapping around your arm, guiding you away from the room and into the bathroom. His touch is firm but oddly gentle, a contrast that makes you even more uneasy. He’s pulling you toward the tiled space, and your mind races, trying to understand what’s happening as he begins to carefully, methodically, lift up your shirt to undress you.

“No,” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your own racing heartbeat. Your body goes stiff, your hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as if holding onto it could somehow protect you. “No,” you repeat, a little louder this time, your voice shaky and uneven. The tremors wrack your body, panic rising in your chest.

Sylus looks at you with something akin to worry, his touch slowing, but not stopping. He doesn’t force you, but his actions continue with a sense of inevitability, as though he believes this is just part of taking care of you, of ensuring you’re where you belong.

"I'm not going to do anything to you now, you just need a shower, sweetie."

But your mind is somewhere else entirely.

Flashes of memory assault you—dim lights, the scent of damp stone, and the overpowering fear of when you were in that basement. The man who had tried to force himself on you, who had pressed you against the bed with a hunger that still made your skin crawl. Your breath hitches as you remember his hands, his twisted smile. The terror, the helplessness—it's all too real, crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

You hadn’t realized just how deeply the trauma had sunk into you. Not until this moment, with Sylus standing in front of you, touching your clothes, his touch too familiar, too close to the horror you’d endured. You had been holding your emotions back but you couldn't now.

You flinch, your body recoiling instinctively as the memories close in around you. Your voice cracks, barely holding back the sob building in your throat. “Please…don’t.”

Sylus’s hands pause, and for the first time that entire day, you see it,—hesitation flickering across his sharp features. His red eyes, usually so calculating and cold, soften just enough for you to notice. His grip loosens, his fingers no longer working to take off your clothes but instead resting lightly on your shoulders, as if afraid of causing more harm.

“Be still,” he says again, his voice quiet and strangely tender. “I’m just trying to help you.”

But his words barely register. The panic has already set in, tightening around your chest like a vice. Your breathing grows shallow, quick—too quick. Your thoughts scatter, your heartbeat hammering so hard it feels like your ribcage might shatter under the pressure. The room spins around you, and suddenly you’re not here anymore. You’re back in the basement, cold stone beneath your feet, that man’s hands on your skin, forcing you against the wall. Forcing you on the bed.

You gasp for air, but each breath comes in ragged, uneven bursts. Your vision blurs, and your knees wobble beneath you. It’s happening all over again. The helplessness, the terror. It’s like your body has been pulled back into that moment, and no matter how much you try to claw your way out, you can’t.

Sylus moves swiftly, pulling you into his arms before you can collapse. His embrace is strong and grounding, his chest solid against your trembling form. “Breathe, sweetie” he whispers, his voice low, soothing, as if trying to coax you back from the edge of your panic. His hand rubs slow circles on your back, the gentle rhythm fighting against the chaos inside you. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

But you can’t. The air won’t come. Your breaths are sharp and shallow, your body on the verge of shutting down as you feel the world slipping away. You struggle, pushing weakly at him, but his arms only tighten around you, holding you firmly in place, anchoring you.

“Shhh, shhh…” His voice drops even lower, soft and almost tender. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

The warmth of his body presses against yours, his presence somehow steadying the storm inside you. You eventually cling to him, not because you want to, but because it’s the only thing that keeps you from spiraling into complete panic. His hand continues to stroke your back in slow, measured motions, and though your heart still pounds in your chest, his touch starts to break through the suffocating fog.

“I’ll turn around, okay?” he says gently, as if sensing the root of your fear. “You can undress yourself. I won’t watch.”

There’s something in his tone—something that feels honest, reassuring, like he’s not just saying the words to control you but because he wants you to feel safe. You weakly nod, barely, but he catches it. He loosens his grip and takes a slow step back, raising his hands in surrender, his red eyes locked onto yours.

“I’ll give you some time. You don’t have to rush.”

With a careful turn, he faces away from you, his broad back filling the room but no longer imposing. His actions aren’t threatening; they’re deliberate, giving you the space he knows you need.

Your breathing slows and you blink back tears, but your body still trembles. You wipe the remaining tears from your eyes with a shaky hand, glancing around the bathroom as the panic begins to ebb. And then you notice it—something is different.

The bathtub is gone.

It had been there before, you remember. A large, ornate tub that had taken up the corner of the bathroom, a symbol of something luxurious in this prison of yours. But now, it’s nowhere to be seen. Your brows knit together in confusion as you stare at the empty space.

“Where’s the tub?” you ask, your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Sylus doesn’t turn around, but his response is quick and calm, as if he expected the question. “I had it removed,” he says softly, his voice strangely careful, almost cautious. “I didn’t want you to drown yourself again.”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and unexpected. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat as the weight of what he’s saying sinks in. He thought…no, he knew. He knew how deep the darkness inside you could go, how close you’d come to actually dying. He’d taken precautions—not just to keep you here, but to keep you alive.

You stand there, frozen, staring at the empty space where the bathtub used to be, and the reality sinks in—there’s truly no escape. Not from this place, not from Sylus, and not from the relentless grip of your own mind. He’s stripped you of every option, every avenue, until there’s nothing left but this.

Nothing left but him.

The exhaustion presses down on you, heavier than ever before. With slow, mechanical movements, you step into the shower, your limbs feeling distant, as if they don’t belong to you anymore. The warm water hits your skin, but it does nothing to ease the weight in your chest. You close your eyes, hoping that the steady stream of water can drown out the chaos inside your head—the panic, the hopelessness, the memories.

But they cling to you, stubborn and unyielding.

Images flash behind your closed eyelids—memories of that basement, the cold stone walls pressing in, the terror that gripped you when the man came too close, his hands reaching, his breath sour. You press your hands against the tiled wall, your body shaking as you fight the memories back, but they keep coming, like waves crashing over you, dragging you under.

And then there’s Reese.

You can’t stop seeing it—the moment his body hit the floor, the sound of the fatal gunshot echoing in your mind like a haunting refrain. His face, twisted in shock and pain. Your fault. The words circle in your mind like a dark mantra, mixing with the trauma of that basement. It’s all tangled together, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t make it stop.

"Go to hell, Reese."

The water cascades down your back, but it doesn’t wash away the guilt. It doesn’t drown out the horror. The images of blood and brain matter sliding down concrete walls.

You press your forehead against the cold tile, letting the water soak through your hair as you fight the rising tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. You want to believe that there’s a way out, some form of freedom—maybe not from this mansion, but at least from the grip of your own mind. But right now, standing under the relentless stream of water, you know that freedom is further away than ever.

No matter how much you fight it, you’re trapped. Inside this house. Inside yourself.

And the worst part? Sylus knows it.

You feel the tears begin to well up, hot and uncontainable, spilling over before you even realize you’ve let them go. They mix with the water, disappearing beneath the steady stream of the shower, unseen, unclaimed by anyone but you. For the first time in what feels like forever, no one is watching. Not even Sylus.

You let the sobs come quietly, your body trembling as the tears fall, merging with the warm cascade. It’s a strange relief, knowing that in this moment, he isn’t witnessing your breaking point. Sylus had made it clear—your pain, your misery, your tears, they all belonged to him.

But right now, this moment is yours.

As the tears fall silently, you press your forehead against the cool tile, letting yourself cry in a way you hadn’t allowed before. The sobs are shaky, barely audible over the sound of the water, but they are real, raw, and they are yours alone. The stream washes them away before they have the chance to leave a trace, like they never existed at all.

Even as your heart aches and the trauma still weighs you down, there’s a strange comfort in the tears that go unnoticed. For just these few minutes, you aren’t his broken thing to fix or keep. You’re just a person, trying to survive, trying to breathe.

And even though the water doesn’t drown out all the pain or the memories, it gives you enough space to let the emotions pour out—if only for a little while.

Xavier’s breath came in shallow bursts as he navigated the empty streets of Linkon City, the familiar hum of his hunter’s watch glowing faintly on his wrist. His blue eyes flicked between the road and the holographic screen hovering just above the watch face. The blue light illuminated his face, highlighting the sharp focus in his eyes. The signal from the phone booth was still there, blinking steadily. That was his main lead—the last place you’d been before everything went silent.

His mind replayed the sound of your voice from the call, every word etched into his memory. Kidnapped. You hadn’t said much, but the panic in your tone had been unmistakable. The moment the call cut, something in him snapped. There was no hesitation, no second thought—he had left almost immediately, speeding through the city, your trembling words echoing in his head.

"Yeah, his name is S—"

Your words echoed in Xavier's mind, over and over, like a haunting refrain. You hadn’t been able to finish your sentence before the call had abruptly cut out, leaving him with nothing but that single, meaningless syllable. S. It replayed in his head as the car sped forward, finally breaking free from the limits of Linkon City and onto the dark, winding road that would lead him toward the N109 Zone.

He had tried to call back the second the line went dead, his hands trembling as he frantically redialed the number, but it was no use. The call wouldn’t connect. Maybe you had run out of money for the payphone. Maybe something far worse had happened.

The not knowing gnawed at him.

Who was S? The question had burned in his mind from the moment you said it. A name. It had to be a name. But just that one letter wasn’t enough to figure out who this person was, let alone why they had taken you. He cursed under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the dark road stretched out before him.

Whoever S was, they were dangerous enough to bring you to the N109 Zone. That part made his blood run cold. This place wasn’t just desolate—it was the kind of area that most people in the city pretended didn’t even exist. It was lawless, forgotten. A place where the desperate went to disappear, where the city’s darkness festered beneath the surface and on top of it, darkness everywhere you turn.

But why there? What did this S want with you? And why take you so far from the city?

He replayed the phone call in his mind again, your voice shaky but steady as you’d tried to tell him what had happened. The fear had been there, simmering just beneath your words, but you had clearly fought to stay calm.

Xavier’s heart pounded harder with every mile. There was something else that bothered him, something gnawing at the edges of his mind. Why had you been targeted? You were strong, capable—smart. One of the best deep space hunters around. You wouldn’t have let yourself be taken easily. That meant whoever S was, he’d planned this, thought it through, and knew how to get to you. That thought made Xavier’s stomach twist. This wasn’t random. It was calculated.

The car hit a bump in the road, jolting him back to the present, but his mind still raced. He needed to find you, needed to get to you before this S—whoever he was—did something unforgivable. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being out there, scared and alone, waiting for help that felt too far away.

He glanced at the holographic display on his hunter’s watch again, watching as the faint signal pulsed from the N109 Zone. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was the best lead he had. That phone booth, that single clue you’d left him before the call ended, was his only connection to you now.

Who are you, S? The question echoed in his mind as he pressed down harder on the gas pedal, the car roaring down the empty highway.

He didn’t know what awaited him in the N109 Zone, but he knew one thing for sure: he was prepared to fight like hell for you.

After what felt like an eternity, buildings whipping past him, Xavier finally pulled up to the phone booth, his heart hammering in his chest. The headlights illuminated the cracked pavement and the battered glass of the booth, standing alone at the edge of the desolate lot like a ghost from another time. But of course, you weren’t there. The booth was empty. You were nowhere to be found.

Xavier’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he sat there for a moment, staring at the empty phone booth. His mind raced, thoughts tangled in frustration and fear. You had told him you would call back—you had said you were going to that strange man’s house, and then you’d come back to tell him what it looked like. But now, standing there in the middle of the N109 Zone, it felt like that plan had shattered into a thousand pieces.

He stepped out of the car, the cold air hitting him like a slap to the face as he approached the booth. His eyes scanned the area, up and down, looking for any sign of you. But there was nothing. Just silence. The eerie kind that made his stomach twist with unease.

The booth was run-down, even worse up close. He stared at it, his thoughts flickering between panic and regret. Should he wait for you to come back, as you said you would? Or had something already gone terribly wrong? Every second that passed felt like a ticking clock, time slipping away, leaving him more uncertain than ever.

He leaned against the booth, raking a hand through his hair, trying to decide. You had been so determined—so sure you could handle this. You’d said you were going to check out this strange man’s house, get some rest, and then return. But the thought of you going there alone, to that man—whoever he was—made him sick.

I should’ve told you not to go with him.

The regret hit him hard, twisting deep in his chest. He should’ve been more forceful, should’ve stopped you. The second you’d mentioned this man, this stranger who had somehow convinced you to follow him, alarm bells had gone off in his head. He had sensed something wasn’t right. Why hadn’t he told you to stay away? Why hadn’t he made sure you didn’t go?

But you were strong, capable—you had always been stubborn, determined to handle things on your own. And he had trusted you to do that. But now…now you were missing. And he was standing in an empty lot with no idea where you were or who had taken you.

Xavier clenched his fists, staring at the phone booth as if willing it to give him answers. The last place you had been. He thought about turning around, driving through the N109 Zone, checking every corner, every building. But the reality of how vast and dangerous this area was made him hesitate. He didn’t even know who to look for. S. The mysterious man whose name had been cut off by the phone’s disconnect. That wasn’t enough.

Xavier’s stomach growled, pulling him from the fog of his frantic thoughts. He hadn’t eaten properly in hours, and the adrenaline that had been fueling him was finally wearing thin. He gritted his teeth, the pang of hunger a sharp reminder of just how long it had been since he’d stopped moving. He didn’t want to waste time, but he knew he needed to eat, to think straight.

Reluctantly, he climbed back into the car and started driving, scanning the streets of the N109 Zone for anything that looked remotely functional. This part of the city was basically wasteland—most of the buildings were crumbling, their windows broken, and the streets were nearly empty. He almost decided to give up before spotting a flicker of neon in the distance.

It was a convenience store—small, dingy, and barely lit—but it was open. The cracked neon sign buzzed weakly, casting a dull glow over the entrance. It didn’t look promising, but it was all he had. He pulled up, the car’s tires crunching over the broken pavement as he parked.

Xavier stepped out, his eyes narrowing as he approached the entrance. The store looked as worn out as the rest of the area, its windows covered in grime and dust, but the lights inside told him it was still in business. He pushed the door open, the warmth of the store enveloping him.

The place reeked of stale air and something faintly metallic. Shelves lined the narrow aisles, most of them half-stocked but there was variety. Xavier grabbed a few snacks—whatever looked edible—and made his way to the counter, where a grimy man with disheveled hair and yellowed teeth sat behind the register, staring at him with a disinterested scowl.

“Do you take gold?” Xavier asked, pulling out a small pouch from his pocket. It wasn’t unusual for places outside Linkon City to not take gold, as a lot of places were still living in the past. Couldn't hurt to ask though.

The man behind the counter laughed, a rough, guttural sound that made Xavier’s skin crawl. “Gold, huh? Figures. You Linkcunt folks just keep coming in here actin’ like it’s worth more than it is.” He leaned forward, eyeing Xavier with something between amusement and suspicion.

"No, we don't take it."

Xavier pocketed the small pouch, unsurprised by the man's harsh words, “You said Linkon folks? Who else from the city has been here?” His tone was casual, but his heart skipped a beat. Maybe someone else had seen you?

"Linkcunt," the man corrected with a sneer. The man’s eyes flicked up, narrowing slightly. “Why, you looking for someone?” He eyed Xavier and leaned back in his chair, his voice taking on an edge of curiosity.

Xavier pressed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Maybe. Just wondering who else might’ve been through here recently.”

The man scratched his stubbled chin, considering. “Well, there was this disheveled-looking girl who came through a little while ago. Had a lot of attitude, that one. Demanding help. Swiped some snacks and shit when I wasn’t looking. Took off before I could do anything about it.” He shrugged, clearly not too bothered by the theft. “But that’s basically all I know.”

Xavier’s heart stopped. A disheveled girl… Could it have been you?

His pulse quickened, the pieces clicking together. You must have come through here before disappearing. The man didn’t seem to know much more, but this was a sign. You had been close—you had been right here.

“What’d she look like?” Xavier asked, trying not to sound too eager.

The man waved a hand lazily. “Didn't look that closely to be honest. Bitch looked like hell, though. Clothes all messed up, like she’d been through something. But she was quick—didn’t stick around long enough for me to really notice much else. Don’t know where she went after that. Just up and vanished with my stock”

Xavier nodded, feeling a surge of both hope and frustration. You’d been here, that much was clear. But now you were gone again, slipping through his fingers like a ghost.

"You really shouldn't talk about women like that".

He paid for the snacks with some dollar bills he kept in his car for out of city trips, and turned to leave, leaving the disgruntled cashier. His mind already racing to figure out where you could’ve gone from here.

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped back outside, the cold night air hitting him like a wall. You’d been here. Not long ago, from the sound of it. He could almost picture it—your disheveled form rushing through the aisles, grabbing whatever you could before vanishing into the shadows again. You were close, too close to give up now. But where had you gone?

He clenched his jaw, glancing around the empty streets. There were too many directions, too many places you could have disappeared to. The N109 Zone was vast, a labyrinth of forgotten corners and abandoned buildings, and there was no telling where you might have run off to next.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of the little he knew. You had come here to get food, maybe out of desperation—running on fear and adrenaline. And then, like the man said, you were gone. No tracks, no sign of where you’d been taken.

Xavier pulled a crumpled pamphlet out of his jacket pocket, his fingers brushing over the faded image of a sleek pair of boots. It was the same pamphlet the shoe store clerk had given him earlier, and now, it seemed like his only other lead. A shoe store… It might seem like a stretch, but he had learned to follow even the smallest clues. If he couldn’t figure out where you had gone, maybe he could figure out more about the man who had taken you. And starting with something as small as his shoes might just be the break he needed.

He studied the pamphlet again, his eyes narrowing as he recalled his brief conversation with the clerk. The shoes had been expensive, high-end—definitely not something most people in the N109 Zone would be wearing.

But S wasn’t like most people, was he?

Xavier’s mind spun as he hurriedly typed the address from the pamphlet into his hunter’s watch, the holographic screen glowing softly as it processed the information. The watch pinged, highlighting the location of the store in the city. It wasn’t far, but it was a place he wouldn’t have expected someone from the N109 Zone to frequent.

If S was wearing those shoes, it meant he had money—or at least access to it. That was something Xavier could work with. People like that left trails, even in places where they thought they could stay hidden.

He started the car again, his pulse quickening as the watch projected the route onto the windshield. The shoe store was his next stop, and if he was lucky, he could get more information about who S really was. Maybe someone there had seen him, or better yet, could point him in the direction of where he lived or did business.

As the car sped toward the heart of the city, Xavier’s determination sharpened. He was getting closer to answers—closer to finding you. If he could learn more about this mysterious man, this “S,” then maybe, just maybe, he could figure out where you were being held.

As Xavier sped through the dark, crumbling streets of the N109 Zone, the world outside his car blurred into a mix of shadows and faint streetlights. His mind was focused on finding you, piecing together the next step in his search. Then, out of nowhere, a piercing scream shattered the stillness.

His foot slammed on the brake, the car lurching to a stop as his heart raced. The sound of the scream echoed through the desolate streets, raw and desperate. He scanned the area frantically, searching for the source of the cry for help. Then he saw her—a woman stumbling into the dim light from a broken streetlamp, clutching her side, her face twisted in pain.

“Help! Please, help me!” she gasped, her voice cracking with panic as she looked directly at him, her body collapsing onto the cracked pavement.

Xavier’s hunter instincts kicked in immediately. He couldn’t just leave someone like that. He shoved the car door open and rushed toward her, his eyes darting around, looking for any potential danger. The streets of the N109 Zone were unpredictable, but he couldn't just ignore someone in need.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone urgent but calm as he knelt down beside her.

The woman’s breathing was shallow, her face pale and contorted with pain. She clutched her ribs, wincing with every breath. “I don’t know,” she whimpered, “I was attacked. I need help… please…” Her eyes were wild with fear, darting between Xavier and the shadows beyond, as if expecting someone—or something—to come after her at any moment.

Xavier’s heart pounded, his mind racing. “I’ll get you some help,” he assured her, reaching for his phone. But as he fumbled for it, he felt a shift—something wasn’t right.

The woman’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, her panic momentarily replaced by something colder, more calculating. Before he could react, a blur of movement rushed behind him.

A sharp clink. The keys.

Xavier’s blood ran cold as he spun around, just in time to see a man slip past him, keys glinting in his hand. The stranger, quick and agile, darted toward Xavier’s car, jumping into the driver’s seat. How did I not see this coming? The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—this was a setup.

“Hey!” Xavier yelled, lunging forward, his heart hammering in his chest. But it was too late.

The woman, now standing tall with no trace of pain or injury, smirked at him, her expression smug and mocking. “Thanks for the ride, city boy,” she sneered, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she ran toward the passenger side of the car. She moved easily now, as if the earlier fear and desperation had been nothing but an act. It had been.

Xavier’s mind raced as he sprinted toward the car, but the engine roared to life before he could even get close. The man in the driver’s seat gunned the accelerator, the tires screeching against the pavement as the car sped away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

His heart sank as he watched the taillights disappear into the darkness, the weight of the situation crashing down on him. His car. His keys. Everything—gone in an instant. And with it, any chance of quickly finding you.

He'd have to walk on foot.

The steam from the shower still clung to your skin as you stepped out, your mind swirling in a haze of exhaustion and hunger. Your stomach growled loudly, reminding you just how long it had been since you last ate. The hot water had done little to wash away the weight of everything pressing down on you—the memories, the fear—but it had, at least, cleaned the grime from your body. You were left feeling raw and exposed, unsure of what was coming next.

You opened the glass door of the shower and grabbed a towel laying on the counter, wrapping it around yourself quickly before exiting.

You saw Sylus had elected to lean against the doorframe when you stepped out, and he turned around to face you. His eyes, those sharp, red eyes, softened when they met yours. "The chef has prepared food for you," he said, his voice gentle. The tenderness in his tone felt unnerving, like everything else with him, but the thought of food was too tempting to resist.

But before you could respond, he gestured to a set of neatly prepared shopping bags laid on his bed outside the bathroom. “I want you to open these first. Consider them gifts I had planned for you… before you ran off.” The edge in his words lingered, but his expression remained neutral. You vaguely remembered him clipping your nails while you were in the bathtub, a pile of shopping bags at his feet.

Ah, you had forgotten all about those. You wrapped the towel around yourself tighter, a knot of discomfort forming in your stomach.

You hesitated for a moment, then slowly approached the bed, your hands trembling slightly as you began to take out the "gifts". The first bag contained delicate pieces of underwear—soft, lace, and undeniably expensive. You swallowed hard, feeling a wave of unease crawl up your spine.

“Gifts for me? Or for you to see on me?” you muttered, unable to hide the malice in your voice, the bitterness slipping out.

Sylus’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile, his red eyes flickering with that familiar, unsettling glint. "Why not both?," he replied softly, the weight of his gaze lingering on you as though he found your defiance amusing.

These weren’t just clothes; they were symbols of his control, of how he saw you. Like you were his little doll to dress up. Still, you nodded hesitantly, accepting the garments with quiet reluctance.

Beneath the underwear were more practical clothes—soft, comfortable tops, leggings, and dresses. Each piece was chosen carefully, and despite yourself, you appreciated the effort, if only because you were desperate for something to wear to avoid Sylus's lingering gaze on your damp body. You chose a simple, slightly loose white dress, letting it fall over your damp skin. Then slipped on one of the many underwear he had bought for you. Sylus watched you quietly, a small smile playing on his lips as he waited for you to finish.

“You might've lost a few pounds from stress, once you start eating more, it’ll fit better,” he said casually, his tone matter-of-fact as though he hadn’t just casually referenced your weakened state. The words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of how long you'll be trapped here. Then, with a surprising softness, he added, “You look beautiful nonetheless, honey.”

“Honey.” A new pet name.

Surprisingly, instead of making you grimace like his usual endearments, it sends an unwelcome heat crawling across your face. You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to react, but the flush is unmistakable. Against your will, your gaze drops, and you look away from him, the sudden surge of embarrassment catching you off guard.

Sylus notices, of course. His smile deepens slightly, a quiet satisfaction flickering in his eyes as if he can sense the effect his words have on you. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his gaze on you—steady, watchful—his presence filling the room in an unnerving way that makes it harder to breathe.

He extended his hand toward you, the gesture oddly tender and yet impossible to trust. You hesitated, unsure if taking it would solidify his power over you further or if refusing would draw out something worse. But you take it, residing to the fact that you didn't have much choice.

He moved toward the door, your hand held in his grip. “Come,” he said. “The food is waiting.”

Your stomach growled again, and despite the tension between you and him, you found yourself trailing after him, your body driven by the gnawing hunger you couldn’t ignore. As you stepped into the dining hall, the rich, mouth-watering aroma of freshly prepared food hit you like a wave.

The table was filled with an extravagant feast. Platters of roasted meats sat alongside bowls of vibrant vegetables, glistening under the kitchen lights. There were thick, tender cuts of lamb, still steaming from the oven, their edges crisp and golden. Roasted chicken, its skin perfectly browned and seasoned with herbs, sat atop a bed of caramelized onions and garlic. Beside them, a platter of seared duck breast, cooked to perfection, its fat rendered into a rich, savory glaze.

On another side of the table were bowls of creamy mashed potatoes, rich and buttery, their surface dusted with flecks of chives. A dish of roasted root vegetables—carrots, parsnips, and beets—was arranged in a beautiful display, their edges crisp and caramelized, drizzled with a balsamic glaze. There was a vibrant salad of mixed greens, tossed with fresh pomegranate seeds, crumbled goat cheese, and candied walnuts, the dressing a light, tangy vinaigrette that made your mouth water.

A basket of freshly baked bread sat in the center of the table, the rolls warm and soft, their golden crusts begging to be torn apart. Small bowls of whipped butter, infused with honey and herbs, accompanied them, the scent sweet and savory.

But it didn’t stop there. Desserts, too, were laid out, tempting you even further. A decadent chocolate tart with a glossy ganache topping, dusted with powdered sugar and fresh raspberries, sat next to a platter of delicate fruit tarts, their centers brimming with custard and topped with glistening berries. A tower of macarons in various pastel shades—lavender, pistachio, rose—completed the lavish display.

Sylus pulled out a chair for you, his smile widening as he watched your eyes dart from one dish to the next. "Well don't just stare, sit down".

The sight and smell overwhelmed you, and for a moment, you felt like a prisoner presented with a royal meal, knowing full well the chains still bound you. But hunger gnawed at your insides, and no matter how conflicted you were, your body screamed for sustenance as you sat.

"Eat," Sylus urged, taking a seat across from you. His eyes never left yours, watching, waiting for your reaction.

Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for a piece of bread, the warmth of it soothing in your palm. You tore it open, the soft dough yielding beneath your fingers, and dipped it into the whipped honey butter, taking a small bite. The flavors burst in your mouth, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief.

The food was perfect—too perfect. And as you took another bite, you couldn’t help but wonder: was this all part of the game too? Or was it simply nourishment after the storm?

Sylus leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you as you ate, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak, just watched you in that unsettling, familiar way—like he was always studying you, always thinking, always planning. His silence, for once, was almost a relief, allowing you to focus on the food and ignore his presence as much as possible.

You couldn’t help it. The hunger gnawed at you, and the feast before you was impossible to resist. The flavors were rich, the textures comforting, and before you realized it, you had cleared almost four plates. Each bite had momentarily dulled the chaos in your mind, letting you push aside the fear, the memories, and the discomfort that still lingered in your chest.

Sylus didn’t comment as you reached for more, nor did he interrupt. He seemed content to let you eat in peace, his eyes never leaving you but his lips remaining closed. It wasn’t until you finally pushed the last plate away, feeling the fullness settle in your stomach, that the silence between you felt heavier.

The weight of exhaustion began to settle over you. The warmth from the food and the sheer relief of being full left you feeling heavy, your eyelids growing heavier by the minute. You hadn’t realized just how tired you were until that moment. Your body felt like it had finally reached its limit.

Sylus stood up, breaking the silence. His movements were smooth and deliberate as he pushed his chair back, his gaze never leaving you. “You must be tired,” he said softly, the same unnerving tenderness in his voice as before. “It’s time for bed.”

You tensed slightly at his words, but your body, worn down by hunger and stress, didn’t have the strength to protest. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid of what might come out if you did. There was no point in resisting, not tonight.

Sylus moved toward you, his hand extending again as if offering comfort. You hesitated, looking at his outstretched hand, but you didn’t have the energy to reject him. You let him guide you, his touch gentle yet firm as he led you toward the bedroom you were dreading your return to.

You don’t remember when exactly you slipped into unconsciousness, but the world had faded into nothing after Sylus lifted you into the bed. His arms were unexpectedly gentle, cradling you with a kind of care that felt entirely out of place. You were vaguely aware of him pulling the blankets up around you, tucking you in, but then everything went dark. The exhaustion you had been fighting all day finally consumed you, and you sank into the deepest sleep you’d felt in what seemed like forever.

There was comfort in the darkness, the kind of peace that only comes with complete surrender to sleep. No fear, no panic, just the void. You floated there, cradled in warmth. But soon, the darkness gave way to a dream, vivid and consuming.

Xavier appeared first, stepping out of the shadows of your mind. His familiar figure brought an immediate sense of relief. His ashy blonde hair fell into his face, and his striking blue eyes bore into you with the same warmth and intensity that always made your heart flutter. There he was, just as you remembered—strong, dependable, and safe. He reached out, his hand extending toward you, and without hesitation, you moved toward him.

The moment your hand met his, your heart melted, the overwhelming sense of security flooding through you. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt safe. You felt home.

But something changed.

Xavier’s gaze, once filled with affection and care, shifted. His eyes darkened, turning cold, distant. The warmth you’d found in his presence quickly evaporated, replaced by something harsh and unfamiliar. His lips curled downward, a shadow crossing his face, and his grip on your hand tightened. The shift was sudden, the dream warping around you like a twisted reflection of reality.

"Why did you want him dead?" His voice cut through the dream, sharp and cold, the softness you’d expected from him nowhere to be found.

You blinked, confusion gripping you as his words sank in. “Huh?” Your face faltered, your heart pounding in your chest. His cold stare drilled into you, and you could feel something inside you cracking under its weight. What was happening?

"You're the reason Reese is dead," Xavier said, his words landing like a punch to the gut. His voice, usually so steady, so comforting, was now filled with anger, with accusation. His grip on your hand turned painful, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost crushing force.

“No...” Your voice wavered, barely able to push the word out as your mind reeled. “That wasn’t my fault, it was Sy—” You tried to explain, to say anything to stop the blame from settling on your shoulders. But the words caught in your throat, and you couldn’t finish. You couldn’t get them out.

His face twisted, contorting with anger and something that looked like disappointment. His blue eyes, once a source of warmth, were now filled with icy judgment, the coldness sinking into your skin like knives. His grip tightened further, pain shooting through your hand, but no matter how hard you tried to pull away, you couldn’t escape.

The dream around you blurred, the edges of reality warping and distorting. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, unsteady, while Xavier's figure loomed larger, his presence suffocating. The weight of his blame pressed down on your chest like a stone, suffocating you, filling your lungs with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

You tried to explain again, your voice strangled by the intensity of the moment, but Xavier wasn’t listening. His hand was like a vice, his fingers digging into your skin as his gaze pinned you in place. His words repeated in your mind, echoing louder and louder—“You're the reason he’s dead.”

Xavier's face began to twist, distorting into something grotesque, something no longer human. His once gentle features morphed and stretched unnaturally, his blue eyes darkening into hollow, accusing pits. His grip on your hand became unbearable, crushing the bones in your fingers as his form continued to change, shifting from the man you loved into a nightmare. The warmth that had briefly comforted you was gone, replaced by a deep, bone-chilling cold.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to pull away, but the force holding you was relentless. You stared in horror as Xavier’s form became unrecognizable, his skin taking on a gray, cracked texture, his mouth elongating into a grimace filled with sharp teeth. His eyes, now nothing more than deep, empty voids, bore into you with a hatred that sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re a murderer,” the figure spat, its voice now a low, guttural growl that echoed in your ears, far louder than it should have been. “Murderer.” The word hit you like a physical blow, making your entire body tense as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“No…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you desperately tried to defend yourself. “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t—”

“You have blood on your hands!” the figure roared, its voice shaking the world around you. Xavier’s face continued to twist and contort, veins bulging from his neck, his body looming over you like a towering monster. “You told him to die!”

The words echoed again and again, crashing into you with the force of a tidal wave. The weight of guilt slammed into your chest, almost knocking the wind out of you as the grotesque version of Xavier leaned in closer. His voice became more vicious, more unforgiving. “You let him die, and now the blood is on your hands!”

You looked down, and your breath caught in your throat. Blood. It was everywhere—on your hands, dripping from your fingers, pooling at your feet. Panic surged through you, your heart racing as you tried to wipe it away, but no matter how hard you scrubbed, the blood only seemed to multiply, staining your skin, your clothes, everything around you.

“You’ll never wash it off!” the figure screamed, its voice shaking with rage. “Never!” It grabbed your shoulders, shaking you violently as it continued to scream. “You’re a murderer!

You struggled, trying to pull free, but the figure’s grip was unbreakable. The dream spiraled into chaos, the world around you collapsing into darkness as the screams filled the air, overwhelming your senses. The blood seemed to rise like a tide, crawling up your arms, soaking through your skin. You gasped for air, but it was suffocating, the guilt swallowing you whole.

“Murderer!” the figure roared again, louder this time, shaking you until your vision blurred. “Murderer! Murderer!"

Tears streamed down your face as you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but the accusations wouldn’t stop. The guilt, the blood, the rage—it was all around you, suffocating you, crushing you.

And then, just as quickly as it began, the figure stopped. It stood over you, silent now, but its eyes—those hollow, accusing voids—were locked onto you. “You can never escape what you’ve done,” it whispered, the venom in its voice chilling you to the core.

You shot up in bed, heart hammering in your chest, a scream tearing through your throat before you even knew what was happening. The sheets clung to your sweat-soaked skin as you gasped for breath, the nightmare still gripping you in its suffocating hold. Your hands shook violently, fingers instinctively rubbing at your palms, expecting to see the blood, the thick, crimson stain that had haunted you moments before.

But there was no blood.

The room was dark, dimly lit by a lamp settled on the nightstand. Sylus sat beside you, awake, casually reading a book. His red eyes glanced up from the pages, calm and steady, showing no sign of surprise at your sudden outburst.

“You’re okay,” Sylus said softly, his voice low but steady. He closed the book, setting it aside as he reached out, pulling you closer, into his arms with a gentle grip. The warmth of his body on yours was meant to be comforting, but the lingering terror from the dream made his touch feel heavier, suffocating.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, the echoes of the nightmare still gripping you. The blood, the screams, the weight of guilt—it all felt so real, too real to shake off. Your hands trembled in your lap, still trying to rub away the invisible stain that wouldn’t leave.

“Shhh,” Sylus soothed, his voice soft as he stroked your back with deliberate calmness. “It was just a nightmare, kitten.”

But his words barely penetrated the thick fog of panic swirling in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breathing, but the image of Xavier’s cold, accusing gaze still lingered in the corners of your thoughts, leaving an ache in your chest that refused to fade.

Sylus’s gaze never wavered from you. He was patient, his grip around you getting stronger as you fought to regain control, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern, though it was impossible to tell how much of it was real. He watched you wordlessly, waiting patiently for your breathing to slow as he rubbed your back in soothing motions.

And you did, eventually. Slowly, your heartbeat began to slow, the cold sweat drying on your skin as the nightmare finally started to loosen its grip. You were still shaken, but reality was settling back in.

Sylus smiled, his eyes softening slightly. “Good girl,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You feel better?"

"It's not my fault..." you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as tears began streaming down your face, hot and unstoppable. The weight of the nightmare still pressed against your chest, the guilt wrapping itself around your heart. "Reese... I told him to die, kinda. But you killed him!"

Your words trembled in the air, and for a moment, the room felt suffocatingly silent. Sylus’s arm stilled on your back, his red eyes watching you closely. His face remained calm, unreadable, but something flickered behind his gaze—curiosity, perhaps, or even amusement. He began rubbing your back again.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and steady as he spoke. “I killed him because he took what was mine,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You didn’t pull the trigger, I did. Don’t fool yourself, sweetie.” His fingers gently wiped away the tears falling down your cheeks, lingering on your skin a second longer than necessary.

“His fate was sealed the moment he touched you. You’re not responsible for his death.”

Your heart ached, the confusion and guilt twisting inside you. The memory of Reese's lifeless body, the sound of the gunshot, played over and over in your mind. You knew that Sylus had been the one to end it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that your words, your anger, had driven the final nail in the coffin.

"But I—" you started, your voice cracking, but Sylus shushed you gently, pressing a finger to your lips.

“Don’t burden yourself,” he whispered, his voice soothing but firm. “Reese was a pest, and pests are dealt with. It wasn’t your fault. You said what you needed to say in the moment” His eyes softened, his gaze almost affectionate. “And now, you’re here—with me. Safe.”

"Am I?" you sobbed, the weight of your emotions crashing down on you all at once. The tears came faster, and with them, the memory of that night—the night Sylus had taken everything into his own hands, literally. The sharp pain, the feeling of your skin being sliced open as he calmly removed your birth control implant, resurfaced in vivid detail. The raw fear that had gripped you then returned now, surging like a wave you couldn't hold back.

"At least Reese never hurt me," you choked out between sobs, your voice trembling, barely holding together. "You, on the other hand..."

Your hand instinctively went to your arm, tracing the faint scar left behind from when Sylus had decided, without a second thought, that he would control every part of you—inside and out. The scar was still there, but it wasn’t just on your skin. The memory of that violation ran deeper than any wound that could heal.

Sylus’s expression didn’t shift at your words. His calm gaze remained fixed on you, though there was a slight narrowing of his eyes. His hand paused in its comforting motions, hovering just inches from you, as if calculating how to respond.

“I did what was necessary,” he said, his voice calm, controlled, almost dismissive. "Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. Why are you crying over a man that handed you and countless others over for crack?"

The flood of emotions broke through all at once at his words.

"Because-because he wasn't supposed to die. Hunters aren't the reason people die, we save people...he could've went to jail he wasn't supposed to-"

You crumpled, sobs wracking your body as the weight of everything—of all you had endured—became too much to bear. Memories you had tried to suppress, to bury deep within you, rose to the surface like dark waves crashing against fragile walls.

The man from the basement. His hands grabbing you, the smell of his breath, the sheer terror that had paralyzed you as he tried to force himself on you. You had fought, screamed, but the memory was still there, etched into your mind like a brand that would never fade. The nightmare you had just woken from had only served to rip open the scars you had so desperately tried to heal.

Your words came out in broken fragments, incoherent between sobs. "That other man…he tried… I couldn’t— I couldn’t stop him…" Your voice cracked, your chest heaving as you babbled through the memories, the trauma wrapping itself around you like a suffocating shroud. "He—he wouldn’t stop… I couldn’t breathe, I was so scared…"

You weren’t even sure Sylus was listening. You couldn’t look at him. Everything blurred together, your mind overwhelmed by the pain, the helplessness, the feeling of being trapped again in that moment. You curled in on yourself, trembling as the sobs became uncontrollable, the terror of that night suffocating you all over again.

Then you felt it—Sylus’s hand, soft and deliberate, gently cradling your cheek. He leaned in, his voice softening into something almost unbearably tender, a tone you never thought he was capable of.

"Poor thing, you're such a mess," he murmured.

His eyes lingered on you with a mix of pity and affection, as though you were something fragile, something cherished. It was as if watching you unravel before him caused his heart to ache.

“I can help you forget,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away your tears with slow, careful strokes. “Let me take the pain away, kitten. You don’t have to carry it anymore.”

His words were soothing, like a lullaby coaxing you away from the edge of your breakdown. His touch was uncharacteristically soft, his presence surrounding you like a cocoon, making it harder to pull yourself out of the depths of your despair. For a brief moment, the way he looked at you—like he truly cared—made you falter.

"I'll make it all disappear," Sylus murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, penetrating the darkest recesses of your fractured psyche. It was as if he possessed the power to reach inside your mind and vaporize the painful memories that clung to you like shackles. "You want to feel so good you won't think about him again?"

You hesitate at his words. The rational part of your mind urged you to turn away, not to respond. To pull yourself from his embrace and fight him. But the other part, muddled by trauma, drove you to stay. To seek comfort, any comfort, even in his arms.

From your captor of all people.

“Yes…” you whimpered, blinking away tears. You didn’t know why you answered that way—your mind screamed at you to stop—but you found yourself reaching out, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.

Anything. Anything to make this pain stop.

His lips crashed against yours before you could even register what was happening, consuming you in a kiss so passionate it bordered on painful. All rational thought evaporated as his tongue plundered the recesses of your mouth, stroking along your palate and tangling with your own tongue in a sensual dance as old as time itself.

You were consumed, caught in the storm of his touch, unable to think beyond the overwhelming need to escape the agony of your memories—even if only for a moment.

Your hands flew to his face of their own accord, fingers threading through his hair as you clung to him like a drowning woman gasping for air. You kissed him back with a fervor born of desperation, pouring all your pent-up anguish and trauma into the hungry clash of lips and teeth. The two of you panted against each other, like animals ready to tear each other to shreds.

Some distant part of you screamed that this was mistake, that doing this with him willingly was certainly wrong. He had kidnapped you after all. Stolen you. But it was drowned out by the pounding of your heart, the ache of need pulsing between your thighs. His hands slid under your dress, calloused palms skimming over hypersensitive flesh, and you arched into his touch with a whimper.

"Sylus..." you whined, already feeling the desperate ache reach your core.

"I know, kitten. Patience, we just started" he said, amusement adorning his face.

His lips found yours again, hot and demanding, silencing any lingering protests. You melted into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and danger that left you craving more. His fingers find the hem of your underwear, wasting no time to remove the obstacle from your wet depths.

Your whole body trembled as Sylus's lips blazed a path down your body, trailing molten kisses along the column of your throat. Each brush of his mouth against your sensitive skin sent electricity singing through your veins, igniting another fiery ache between your thighs. When he nudged aside the fabric of your dress to nuzzle the slick flesh of your cunt, you let out a strangled moan, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you.

The tip of his nose grazed your swollen bud, and your back arched off the bed, every nerve ending sparking with raw pleasure. "Nnnngh…" you whimpered, hips bucking instinctively toward his teasing touch.

Sylus's deep, resonant chuckle rumbled through you, vibrating against your core in a way that made your toes curl. "So responsive," he murmured, his warm breath ghosting over your dripping folds. "Tell me, kitten-were you this wet for him? Did he make you shiver and moan like this when he touched you?"

He grips your thighs almost possessively, waiting for your answer.

His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head, plunging you back into reality. Shame crashed over you in nauseating waves, your arousal doused by the realization of how easily Sylus manipulated your body. Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut, fists clenching in the bedding.

"No," you choked out, voice brittle. "Never. He never touched me like this…Sylus, please…" The plea was torn from your throat, part desperation, part disgust. You felt filthy, tainted by your own traitorous reactions to Sylus's sensual assault on your most intimate parts.

But despite the revulsion roiling in your gut, your body still yearned for more.

"Its hard to say no when you beg me like that," he said, seemingly satisfied with your answer, began trailing a hot, wet streak against your folds. A gasp punches through your throat, eyes fluttering as you try not to lose all control. The mere feeling of his tongue was sending your brain into frenzies. But it wasn't enough. Wasn't enough to block the pain.

"Sylus, ple-mmph!”

You grip the bedsheets even tighter when he tenderly cuts off your plea with a moan against your clit, his tongue beginning to spread the entrance of your lips apart feverishly. Your breathing gets rapid when you feel something hot breaking past the entrance, deeper and deeper into your walls. Sylus's tongue delved deeper, stroking along your inner walls with devastating skill.

"You don't have to hold the bedsheets." he says, withdrawing momentarily from your depths. He wordlessly guides your hands to the top of his head, and before you can say anything, he's back licking up and down your folds, eventually making his way back in completely. The immediate shockwaves of pleasure make you grip his hair basically against your will, and you tearfully hold his hair as you neared an orgasm.

The pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo as Sylus's tongue relentlessly stroked your inner walls, each slick thrust driving you higher toward the brink of climax. Broken moans spilled from your lips, intermingling with his hungry growls of appreciation. Tears streamed down your face as your hips rocked shamelessly against his mouth, silently begging for the oblivion that hovered just out of reach.

Sylus's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he feasted upon your aching cunt. He seemed enraptured, almost worshipful in his attentions, lavishing your most intimate places with devoted licks and sucks. He ate you out like a starved man. Like he craved you.

Like he missed you.

Occasionally his nose would rub against your clit again and again, a delicious friction that made you sob with the intensity of it all.

When his lips finally closed around your swollen clit and sucked hard, you nearly vaulted off the bed, a strangled scream tearing from your throat.

"Mhgn! Sylus! Please, I can't…it's too much!"

But he didn't let up, his talented tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with ruthless precision. Your vision whited out as you finally reached heaven, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing over you until you thought you might drown in it. Your walls clamped down on his invading tongue, pulsing with the force of your release, unwittingly calling out Sylus's name as you did so.

Finally, blessedly, Sylus withdrew. You melted in the sheets, finally letting go of his hair, boneless and shuddering in the aftermath. Tears streaked your face, but for once, they weren't because Sylus had hurt you. He had done quite the opposite actually.

Taking in the sight of you sprawled before him, flushed and panting, your body trembling. With a wicked smirk, he trailed a hand along your trembling thigh, drawing a shuddering moan from your throat. Evidence of your orgasm coated his mouth, and you watch as he licks the remaining from his lips.

"Tired already?" he teased, quite enjoying the way your body tensed under his touch. "For a hunter I expected you to have more stamina."

The haze of post-orgasmic bliss dissipated as quickly as it had descended, harsh reality crashing back in with brutal clarity. Tears pricked your eyes as the weight of your shame threatened to crush you. You had begged him for it, eagerly spread your legs for your kidnapper as if y'all were lovers. What was wrong with you?

"I..." you trail off, vision blurring with tears once more. What were you going to say? What could you say?

Sylus trailed lazy kisses along your jaw, seeming to sense your internal turmoil within your head. His lips rubbed against your sensitive skin, sending unwanted sparks of pleasure skittering through your nerves.

"If you're still able to think," he murmured against your throat, "then I clearly haven't kept my promise of helping you forget." His nimble fingers worked at his belt buckle.

The leather strap slid free of the loops with a hiss, dropping forgotten to the floor. Soon after, you felt the straps of your dress slip past your shoulders, past your waist, and eventually off your body completely. Sylus's gaze raked over you, lovingly and hungry, devouring the flush on your skin, the swell of your heaving breasts. You felt bare under his scrutiny, stripped of all defenses.

"And here I thought I was doing such a good job of distracting you," he purred, palming himself through his jeans. The rigid line of his erection strained against the faded denim, an obscene bulge that made your mouth go dry. You watched as he began taking his shirt off from over his head, his chiseled stomach and chest coming into view.

"Please..." you whimpered, the word torn from your throat as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. Your body trembled, caught between the whirlwind of conflicting emotions roiling within you. Revulsion. Lust. Desperation. Self-loathing. You don't even know what you're asking for.

Sylus's expression softened as he gazed down at you, his thumb brushing away the moisture collecting on your lashes. It was uncharacteristic of you to beg for anything other than freedom. It was pulling at his heart and making him feel weak. "Shhh, it's alright sweetie," he soothed, his voice a low murmur. "I'm keeping my promise. Don't think, just focus on me."

Slowly, reverently, he lowered his mouth to yours in a kiss that stole your breath and shattered your reservations. His lips moved over yours with aching tenderness, sipping at your parted lips as if savoring the sweetest nectar. The press of his body against yours was solid, reassuring, anchoring you in the whirlwind of sensation.

His tongue slipped past your defenses to stroke the sensitive flesh within, each languid thrust a silent promise of the ecstasy to come. One large hand cradled your face, angling your head to deepen the kiss, while the other smoothed soothing circles on the small of your back.

When he pulls back, eyes staring down at you, it feels like he's staring into the depths of your soul. His eye begins to glow dangerously, and you begin to feel your mind start to spin and the room start to grow hazy. Voices begin pouring into your ears.

Devour him.

He's right there.

Grab him!

But just as quickly as they started, they stopped. You lay there shocked, unable to process what just happened.

"Your mind says a lot more than your mouth does, kitten" he chuckles, and you can only blink confusingly at him as he begins unzipping his pants. He stands up momentarily to remove his pants and you watch as his cock finally spring free. You feel a gush of arousal as you watch it throb, precum slightly leaking at the tip.

"W-what?" you ask, one half of your brain focusing on his raging erection and the other half wondering why the hell your mind felt like it was splitting in half just a second ago.

But you have no time to ponder such questions as Sylus begins to tower above you once more, grabbing your legs and spreading them apart. You squeal at the sudden touch and shiver when his tip rubs against the slit of your opening. His face is twisted with pleasure and his lips are parted, as if he's restraining every part of himself not to push everything into you at once.

"Slow...please" you beg, your hips involuntarily pushing down on the head of his tip when it greets your opening.

"You want me to go slow, yet your hips are lifting off the bed like you can't wait to have me buried inside you," Sylus teased, his voice a low, wicked murmur. He enjoys the way your face twists in annoyance.

 "So greedy, aren't you kitten?"

"I'm not trying t-mmph!"

You words lodge into your throat as you feel the head of his tip pierce your hole. You gasped, back arching as you stretched impossibly around him. A painful stretch causes you to groan and try to pull away, but Sylus puts a hand on your stomach, holding you down and ceasing all resistance.

"Be still, hah, it wont hurt for long". Sylus lips are parted as he lets out his own breathless groan, his senses being overwhelmed with you as he sinks deeper and deeper.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Sylus groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought for control. He eased forward slowly, inch by excruciating inch, letting you adjust to his substantial size. Your velvety walls resisted initially, clamping down around him like a vice.

Sylus paused, buried to the hilt inside you, his pelvis flush against yours. "Breathe, kitten," he instructed, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. "Try to relax okay?."

You tried to relax, to focus on the pleasant pressure building deep in your core instead of the dull ache in your stretched flesh. Gradually, you yielded, your muscles unclenching as Sylus began to move.

"Good girl," he managed through clenched teeth, withdrawing until just the tip remained before sliding back in with agonizing deliberateness. Over and over, he set a torturously slow rhythm, savoring every drag of your fluttering walls along his rigid cock.

 Soon, the sting gave way to blossoming pleasure, radiating outward from where you were joined. You found yourself meeting his measured thrusts, your hips rocking up to take him deeper, chasing that euphoric friction. Sylus's pace quickened marginally, his self-control fraying at the edges. The slap of flesh against flesh echoed obscenely in the room, a filthy symphony that drowned out your labored breaths and muffled whimpers.

Each deliberate thrust carried you further from the pit of anguish threatening to swallow you whole. The exquisite drag of Sylus's thick cock along your sensitive walls obliterated every coherent thought, leaving only the raw, visceral pleasure of the moment. Higher and higher you climbed, chasing the blissful oblivion he promised, until the first warnings of an impending climax rippled through your trembling form.

Sylus shifted his angle slightly, and stars exploded behind your eyelids as he grazed a spot deep inside that made your toes curl. A strangled moan tore from your throat, lost in the slick slide of bodies and the heady musk of arousal perfuming the air.

"That's it, sweetie," Sylus coo'd, his voice low and rough with lust. "Let go. Think about the one making you feel good right now. Think about me. Only me."

His words shivered through you, igniting something primal and needy. Your hips bucked up to meet his thrusts, desperate for more, harder, faster. Your mind snapped and went blank. You were drowning in sensation, drowning in him, and you never wanted to surface. Never wanted to think about reality ever again.

"You're so cute like this," Sylus purred, punctuating each word with a savage grind of his pelvis against yours. "Brain empty and filled with too much cock to think. Should just keep you like this..."

His filthy praise melted your reservations, stoking the desperate frenzy consuming your body and mind. Nothing else mattered beyond the slick slide of flesh and the heady perfume of sex saturating the air. In this moment, Sylus owned you wholly, a willing slave to his lust. All you could do was surrender, drowning in the exquisite agony of your impending release.

The coil of tension in your core tightened with each passing second, your impending climax hovering just out of reach. Sylus sensed your mounting desperation, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

"You're so close," he growled, his rhythm growing erratic as he chased his own completion. "I can feel you tightening up, greedy little thing."

"Go ahead, cum. Let me hear your pretty sounds."

The lewd demand shattered your composure, catapulting you into heaven and you practically screamed his name. Pleasure crashed through you like a tsunami, obliterating every coherent thought. All you knew was the pulsing ache in your core, the rhythmic throb of Sylus's cock buried deep, prolonging your climax until you couldn't take the sensations anymore and almost begged him to stop thrusting.

“Sylus…” you whimper weakly.

Your vision grew blurry as you teetered into overstimulation, your walls clamping down on Sylus's pistoning length like a vise. Thankfully, he was at his own end. You hear a guttural groan of your name in your ear, and then felt the hot splash of his seed painting your insides soon after. His thrusting completely stopped, and the both of you lay there, panting and unmoving.

It was only when you felt his warm seed spilling out onto the bed that you snapped back into reality.

"Did you-"

“Yes, I did it inside,” Sylus murmured, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Where else would it go?”

Before you could even process his words and sit up, he was on you, pinning your arms down to the bed with a swift, ruthless precision, as if anticipating your next move. The weight of him was suffocating, leaving you no room to escape. Panic surged through you, your body instinctively twisting and writhing beneath him, but it was useless. You were trapped.

“After your little escape," he continued, voice laced with playful amusement, "I’ve realized I need to put in more effort. Taming you isn’t as easy as I thought...a baby should be a nice, heavy, leash for you"

“Sylus… please,” you stammer, your heart pounding in your chest. Desperation claws at you as the gravity of his words sinks in. “We don’t need to do this. Not like this. Please, let’s solve this without a child?—I’ll do anything you want. I won’t try to run again, I swear.”

Tears blurred your vision as you begged, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush, your voice cracking with the weight of your fear. But Sylus just smiled, that soft, chilling smile that made your stomach drop. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned closer, his hand disappearing beneath the bed.

“I know you won’t be running away again. In fact…”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him, terror coiling tighter with every passing second. What was he doing? What was he reaching for? You searched your mind desperately, trying to think of anything, anything at all that might change his mind, but you knew better. Sylus was relentless. He hadn’t forgotten your attempts to resist, and now he was only more determined.

And then you felt it—the cold, unforgiving touch of metal snapping around your ankle.

Your eyes flew wide open, your pulse spiking as you looked down in horror. An ankle chain. You were shackled.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling. "No...is this..?"

“Anything I want, you say?” Sylus's voice oozed with satisfaction, a smile creeping across his lips as he leaned in closer. The warmth of his breath contrasted sharply with the cold metal now binding you in place.

“Then make us a baby, sweetie,” he purred, his fingers tracing lightly down your arm. “That’s what I want most right now.”

The weight of his words settled like ice in your chest. A shiver coursed through your body, your mind racing, searching for some way out, but the chain around your ankle clinked softly with every tiny movement, a reminder of how trapped you really were.

“It’s long enough to reach everything in here, including the toilet and shower,” Sylus said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he leaned down to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek.

You shuddered beneath him, your tears finally spilling over as the full weight of your situation crashed down on you. “Is this… my punishment for running?” you whispered, your voice fragile and trembling, as if the question itself might break you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “No, it’s not a punishment,” he said, his tone soft but resolute. “It’s a necessity, honey.”

His words hung heavy in the air, sealing your fate as surely as the chain around your ankle.

Tears broke free, pouring down your face in uncontrollable waves as the reality of it all crushed you. You sobbed openly, your body shaking under the weight of it, and yet there was nothing you could do. Sylus leaned down, his presence overwhelming, his hand softly brushing the side of your tear-streaked face. His voice was low, almost soothing, as if he believed he was offering comfort instead of twisting the knife deeper.

“The faster you accept this,” he whispered, stroking your hair gently, “the easier it’ll be for you. Accept your place by my side and have my baby.”

"I'll take care of both of you, I promise."

His words only made the knot in your throat tighten further. You hated him. You hated him with every fiber of your being, but worst of all, you hated yourself. Hated the fact that you had once given yourself to him willingly, that you had let the devil himself have your body in a moment of weakness, as if you hadn’t known exactly what he was capable of.

The shame of it burned through you, deeper than any chain ever could. How had you fallen so far? How had you ever let him touch you, let him inside your body, your mind—your soul? The answer twisted cruelly in your gut.

But even despite all the burning hatred you had for him in this moment, another unknown feeling sprouted. One that ached and felt almost unbearable to think about. A longing. Festering within the walls of your strained heart and mind. You refused to acknowledge it though, choosing to drown in the sorrow of your new situation.

Sylus shifted beside you, wrapping his arms around you as if you were lovers instead of captor and captive. His warmth pressed against your skin, a twisted parody of intimacy, and you lay there, eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling. You felt his breathing slow beside you, felt his presence still as he settled in comfortably at your side. But you were miles away, staring into the abyss above, where there was no escape, no solace.

Only the cold, bitter truth. You had let the devil in, and now, there was no way out.

[zero-insignificance]

DND Recap: The Last Noise Complaint

Cast includes: Rose the DM, Alfie (yours truly), Rayna, Patrick, Truk, and Bob (spilt custody between yours truly and Rose)

At the beginning of the session, Patrick's player makes this:

So, the session opens up with Truk waking up in his room, chained to his bed. He can hear the clattering of armor hitting the floor cuz Alfie has the zoomies from a realization. Patrick has a regular sized whoopee cushion marked "Extra Strength" He leaves it on the throne.

We were all given one objective: Be as loud as possible.

Truk tries to wrap the chains tight around his wrist and break them. Rose: Roll a strength check. Truk's player: *rolls* Fuck. 8? Rose: ... Patrick's player: Say goodbye to your wrist. Rose: You do break free of the chain. Truk's player: Really? Rose: Because your wrist is broken, and it just slinks out of it. Truk: *lets of a 100-decibel scream* Patrick: *slides a foot into Truk's room and slingshots his body into it* Somewhere in the castle you just hear the clattering of a bunch of armor. Patrick: Sup. Truk just snaps the bone back into place. Rose: You hear a loud grumble. Truk: OH FUCK- Help me get the chains off! Patrick: Don't worry *pulls out an eraser* I HAVE AN ERASER. Patrick's player: He starts erasing the chains Me: Like doodle bob. Truk: *panics in Russian* NO DON'T ERASE MY HAND-

There's something about Alfonse that nobody in the party knows. Not even Mark knows. Alfie is a trans man. Alfie has realized that he doesn't need hormone therapy. He doesn't need bottom surgery. He already got top surgery. He can shapeshift on a full biological level.

He is tracking down Bob cuz Bob is a he/they femboy and would probably be the only one who understands.

Alfie finds Bob in the dining hall and climbs up his chest, gripping onto his shoulders and is vibrating from excitement.

Bob: Hello, my fine feathered friend! What has you all like this? Alfie: You don't understand, Bob. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! Bob: What? What is it? Alfie: I don't need to take testosterone shots anymore! Bob: Testosterone shots? Alfie: I'M TRANS. I'M A TRANS MAN. Bob: *mouth drops open* You're trans? What are you gonna do? Alfie: Shapeshift on a full biological level~

And Alfie snaps his fingers and lets himself fall down to the ground and lets out a loud squeal of happiness.

Rose: Is this squeal high enough to break glass? Me: Definitely. Rose: Every single one of the wine glasses in the dining hall shatters. Bob: *british* OH FUCK- Truk and Patrick hear a loud squeal. Rose: You hear a loud growl. Alfie sits up and says "We should probably free Truk." And Bob and Alfie head off to free Truk

Rose: Can Alfie get rid of his top surgery scars? Me: Yes, but he thinks they're pretty. They manifest as black through his feathers, and they look like black lightening. Rose: Oooo!

Back with Truk and Patrick:

Truk: OH NO- *rips through the chains on his legs* Alfie walks in looking very chipper. Alfie: Oh. You're already free. Truk: WE HAVE TO GO! Alfie: What? Why? Rose you hear a loud annoyed but distant voice. Voice: How... many times. Do I have to tell you. TO KEEP THE NOISE DOWN? Zariel: Oh no, which one of you woke up Terry? Alfie: Who? Zariel: Terry. The dragon.

Truk runs outside and shouts to the mountain. Truk: I'm sorry! Alfie: I would also like to apologize but in my defense, I only just now realized that I don't need to seek out gender affirming care! Terry: I've had enough of you bipeds being so annoying. Truk: Your fight is with us! Terry basically goes: I DON'T FUCKIN CARE. Truk: Maybe you shouldn't be living next to a CAPITOL CITY. Alfie: How long have you lived here? You could move. Terry: I was here before the kingdom was here. Why should I leave? Truk: Oh. That makes sense. Patrick: Did you not make your presence known? Terry: .... I'm torching this kingdom.

The top of that mountain rumbles and a massive fucking dragon reveals itself as the snow covering it shifts.

It's bigger than the Cologne Cathedral. "I am going to kill you all."

Patrick has a look of terror spreading over his face. This is an Ancient Death Bringer Dragon. Patrick is allowed to tell us each one thing about the dragon. It can frighten and you need an immunity to cold damage to not take cold damage. A resistance won't cut it.

Bob skips towards us with his staff in hand. "Wait for me! I don't want you guys to get killed!" For the session I am playing Bob and Alfie in this fight.

Truk summons Brick. Truk: Dad. I'm going to ask you something. It's going to be a big ask. Brick: Yes? Truk: Can you teleport the dragon somewhere else? Brick: I can't use it on creatures of the void. Alfie: Interesting. Truk: Can you teleport us to the dragon? Brick: *yoinks and plops us under the dragon*

We are under the dragon who is currently on route to the Capitol of Russia. Alfie: OVER HERE! Truk: DOWN HERE YOU DUSTY BITCH! Terry: *evil laugh*

And Terry opens his mouth and what looks like a super nova comes out.

Everyone makes a dex save. Bob succeeds, Truk did terribly. Patrick and Alfie failed. Alfie uses shield as a reaction. Truk was going to use shield of faith but Patrick steps in front of him and uses shield to protect him and for a brief moment he looks like the Goliath we saw in his flashback.

The damage is halved for everyone.

Rene pops out of the nap sack and goes; "WHAT THE FUCK?"

Then the dragon lands before us.

"Roll Initiative."

Ancient Death Bringer Dragon 25 Patrick 23 Rene 21 Bob 15 Alfie 14 Truk 6

The way our campaign works is that we are allowed to go in whatever order we want to strategize the best.

Patrick: Can I talk with my compatriots? Terry: Sure. I'm going to kill you so might as well let you say your farewells. Alfie: *pulls out Hank the orb* Hank? Hank: What is it? Alfie: What's the weakness of this dragon? Hank: It's undead. Alfie: So... Radiant damage? Hank: Radiant damage. See you around! Rose: The blue color of the orb fades. Hank has dipped. Alfie: You better come back when I survive this. Bob: Hank is a coward, but he'll be back.

The dragon makes an attack on Truk, nipping him with his maw.

Patrick sends of a guiding bolt giving Truk advantage on his next attack. Truk cast a divine spell I forgot about. Rene: Does a double attack with her axes. Alfonse sends of a mind spike and fires two angelic steel feathers. Bob fires a witch bolt.

We did 715 damage on our first turns.

This pisses off the dragon who pulls out a massive sword saying that it's time to go full Dark souls on us.

Alfie: That's a cool sword! Who made it?

The Dragon doesn't answer us. Just points the sword at his chest and drives it into his chest.

And Patrick just shouts "RUN." and Alfie tries to grab on to everyone and teleport us away, but it doesn't work. There is a dispel magic field.

We might be #screwed.

Truk tries to call on Brick to teleport his friends out of here but there is no response.

Patrick's Player: Can I parry the nuke? Rose: You need to get 3 nat 20s in a row. Patrick: *rolls* Fuck. Me: Can Alfie try parrying the nuke? Rose: Sure. Me: *sound of rolling dice* Guys... Everyone: *Assumes we're screwed* Me: Guys. Truk's player: What is it? Me: I will never be this lucky again. Rose: What? Me: *still shocked* I got triple 20s. Rose: *shook* I need proof.

Rose: You've parried the nuke. But only for yourself. I need all other characters to roll Constitution, Wisdom, and Dexterity saving throws. Rayna is the only one who succeeds all the saves.

Alfie and Rayna are the only ones left standing.

218 points of damage for those who failed.

Truk drops to zero, but pops back up to one through resilience.

Patrick is dead.

Bob had exactly 219 hit points left so he is down to 1 hp.

Truk gets up, uses revivify and a bunch of lay on hands to bring Patrick back. Truk uses one lay on hands on himself.

Bob is in rough shape. He needs a healing potion. Rayna tosses Alfie one and Patrick uses spell I can't remember to make it more effective healing 36 points of damage.

Everyone is alive, somehow.

We see the dragon's body disintegrate into dust and be blown away by the wind revealing a single egg.

Alfie goes full brood mode brushing off the fact that he just experienced something that would resurface a bunch of traumas.

This egg is the size of a minivan, and Alfonse, who is 5'7" is on top of it, wrapping his wings around it in bird mode and Rayna has wrapped her tail around it. They are keeping it warm

Truk is like "We're not keeping it" and Alfie is like "Yes we are. I am father now." and Rayna gets out this massive blanket/robe made of animal furs and tosses it over Alfie and the egg covering them and Truk is like "it's a dragon egg!" and Alfie is like "I want to give it a chance to live. I am dad. It's done nothing wrong." cuz Alfie is the dad friend. He was meant to be a father. And Truk is like "You won't be able to keep it warm enough!" and Azathoth is like "Actually dude, that egg is close to hatching." and Alfie is like "Azathoth, you're going to be a great great grandpa." And Azathoth is just casually looking through time and is like "But I already am." cuz he's seeing into the future and can see Alfie's future kids and Alfie's like "Azathoth that hasn't happened yet."

Bob: *runs up to Alfie beaming* Alfie! Alfie! I helped! Alfie: *patting him on the head* That you did! I'm proud of you!

Bob has a smile that lights up a room.

Truk is trying to get into contact with Brick, but Brick isn't responding. So, he projects his mind and looks through Brick's eyes and he sees a face that looks like his own. But cruel. The room is covered in symbols meant to trap and contain a God. "Someone has kidnapped the God of Gods."

And Brick lets out a loud howl of rage.

It shakes what is left of the mountain (there isn't much of a mountain now, it got fockin' leveled by the nuke).

They start the travel back the Capitol city of Russia which is 5 miles away.

We FINALLY leveled up to 14. This campaign started in January. We've been level 13 since February. Rene Evolved to this

Lu had a gay panic cuz she taller now. Her mouth dropped open and she was like "That's my wife"

Alfonse is floating on his back with the dragon egg.

Alfie: Truk I can heal you a bit? Truk: *at 15 hit points* I'm fine. Alfie: Bullshit. I'm going to heal you *goes to do a medicine check* Truk: NO *starts booking it* Rayna: *has dash speed of 80* Nope *tackles him* Truk: Ow.... Alfie: *floats on over and gives Truk a double boop healing 16 damage* Bob: Can I have a boop? Alfie: Of course! *boops healing 8 damage*

At some point Alfonse mentions that he doesn't like women. Only men and enbies and it starts raining. Truk: The gods of gods like you. Alfie: I'd hope so. Truk: I mean like like. Alfie: *goes pale* You mean... like like? In that way? Truk: *nods* Alfie: *goes over to a bush and hurls in taken demiromantic asexual* Somewhere in the pantheon of pantheons there is a Goddess that really wanted a chance with Alfie.

Zariel shows up and is probably concussed cuz she's very out of it. Alfie: Zariel, are you concussed? Zariel: ... yes ... Alfie: Why are you out and about with a concussion? Zariel: I answer to no boy. Sea Biscuit: *concerned in British horse bf* There you are! I was so worried! *Helps Zariel onto his back* Truk: Zariel. Someone has kidnapped my father. He looks like me. Zariel: That would be Thorzal. He's the banished prince. He did the spell that brought Betty White Truk: WHAT? I have another half sibling??? Zariel: On your mom's side. He was banished. Truk: He kidnapped Brick. Zariel: what?

They make it back to the castle and Alfie is like "I need all the pillows and blankets." cuz he's in nesting mode. He gets so many pillows and blankets and makes a nest which Rene helps with.

Truk heads to bed. Truk has a package from Thorzal “See you soon, brother.” and there are crumbles of orange brick in the box.

[kens-thoughts-blog]

I kinda like, how our firts time seeing crystal gems is when they fight

Each of crystal gems has her own room in a temple, Steven, for now, can't access a room, so he lives in a house build in to a temple, which Pearl refirs to as alse a room, not a house or a building, which is cute, cuz it makes Steven feel more included and at the same level as the adults

can you snap a neck of any gem in a same maner?

And that sound, jez

"The whole thing was my idea"

"It was everyone's idea"

"Not really"

So Garnet is the one who's individualistic(she knows she is cool, she likes being seen as cool), wouldn't expect for Amethist to be "we did it together" kind of person

Like idea of small rivary between them, for being the coolest in Stevens eyes

Wonder how many times Rose had performed songs like that

They love Steven, but how much of them enjoying his company is just them liking the feeling, as if they are with Rose again

Good they like it and are not sad or creeped out, like it is with real Roses

Steven doesn't need that kind of trauma at that age(or any age)

Garnet's "aww", she thinks he is cute

So nice seeing a child bringing so much happiness to adults, that have him in their life, which is the only surface reading you will have, if you don't know the lore yet

"I'm gonna save this forever"

And Pearl, not being fully able to understand a child's mind, immediately goes to think how weird and impossible it is

I wonder if Pearl's empathy level is not that high, seeing how bad she is at explaining weapon summoning to Steven. Dumbing it down, should be first thing that comes to your mind

Or probably she is just to exided to teach

"Again?!"

And how often does this exacly happen?

She doesn't even teach him. she just shows off

It do be like that sometimes

"You fun to have around, even if your gem is useless"

Can't tell if she is just saying like it is, or if she likes and knows how jerky she sounds

Pearl saying "Steven it's a shield" meaning it as "that one particular, that Rose had, that they didn't know if they'll see againg", and Steven thinking it's as in "wow I didn't know what kind of weapon you'll have and now we know"

earth's savours

Pearl and Amethist doing most talking and reacting and Garnet is just...

No thoughts head empty

I feel her

"what's in this things?"

Men, gem curruption is such a metal concept. Them beng out of their mand, losing their memories, turning into agressive, scared animals. Being held is a bubble is mercy

reminds me of Attack on Titan

Why is there a random hand just sticking out of the ground, I don't think it's from temple

0o0

She fights without even looking

He is fired up from the fridge being broken, but not from his friends being in danger

why are they like this(lovingly)

she adores him so much