#edit: ch 3 pt x —>

[dkniade]

Fanart of @blood-orange-juice’s early Fatui Ajax fic “Transcendere” that I did not long ago ^^

This part’s from chapter one.

It is, as the fic’s tags say, Fluff and Angst and Humour, Slice of Life, Hurt No Comfort

(Or, like snapshots of a boy with a toy knife becoming a weapon himself, with a vaguely fantastical lens over the story♦️…to put it nicely ^^”)

[icequeenbae]

Boy Next Door (m) Ch.1 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Neighbor AU, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

Warnings [whole story]: Baek being the neighbor we’re all dreaming of, harassment (nothing graphic), a bit of body image/ insecurity, MC sucks at relationships, explicit content, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~18.5k (total), 4.5k (pt.1)

Summary: Your neighbor Baekhyun has been a pleasant acquaintance since you moved into your current apartment almost a year ago. Could he also be… a perfect match?

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Chapter Masterlist: Pt. 1 > Pt. 2 > Pt. 3 > Pt. 4 (fin)

Author’s note: This has taken me so, SO long to write and edit that I cannot believe the time has come to post it lmao I just wanted to write something simple with the classic boy-next-door vibe but as usual, the story ended up being much longer than planned and I am going to post it as a mini-series. Please keep in mind that your feedback is what motivates me to write and post more <3 And biiig thanks to the lovely @beomcoups for taking on the beta duties on this whole story~

Network Tags: @bbh-net  @k-vanity  @ksmutsociety

PART 1

In the lobby or on your floor – those were the two locations where you’d been bumping into Baekhyun most often. Which wasn’t that strange, considering that you were neighbors. But it somehow always caught you off guard and left you flustered.

Just like the first time.

It happened almost a year ago when you were waiting for the elevator on the first floor of your building with your best friend Yuki, who came early to help you with preparations. A guy in a loose white dress shirt and jeans stepped into the elevator with you, politely greeting you before pressing his floor number.

‘Oh, you live on the 13th as well? So, you and our Y/N are neighbors!’ Yuki exclaimed.

‘Nice to meet you,’ you muttered and bowed, shy from the sudden introduction. He reciprocated, chocolate hair falling into his eyes charmingly.

‘You should come to her housewarming party! It’s in a couple hours,’ Yuki chimed in again. ‘You don’t need to bring anything, it’s just a small thing with a couple friends and neighbors. We’re making sure Y/N-ie settles in nicely here. So please come, we have tons of food!’

If anyone could ever say no to your friend… Well, you had never met such a person. You guessed that Baekhyun was simply too stunned by her enthusiasm, so he said he’d swing by for sure. In a way, you were thankful that she’d asked him – you’d have never had the guts to invite someone like that; especially not anyone as good-looking and cool as Baekhyun.

You regretted letting your bestie invite him the following evening when your party was in full swing for several hours. Most of the food was devoured, so now you were all drinking, crunching on snacks, and conversing; or trying to while jumping from one topic to another.

‘I wish we could gather more often. We all like to hang out with you, you know?’

As always, Yuki nagged at you for being too ‘stay-at-home’ of a friend.

‘I like to hang out too. But home is home. You know parties aren’t really my… favorite pastime.’

‘What is your favorite pastime, lying in bed cuddling your blanket?’ Chanyeol joked insensitively.

He should’ve known better since you were the most troubled in your group of friends regarding relationships. It was super tough for you to find a match, even when you made an effort to get out of the house and meet new people, mostly because of your history of failed relationships where your partners gained interest in someone else. It seemed like you were too plain to hold someone’s attention for long. So, you’d been ‘that single friend’ for several lonely years now. And at this time, you were actually in the very beginning of a new, promising relationship. You were still pretty insecure about it; thus, Yeol’s comment really did make you flinch. He was drunk, so that was understandable, but you still sulked at his words, mainly because they were true.

‘Hey, it doesn’t have to be a blanket.’ You frowned, pressing the straw to your lips in frustration.

‘I’m kinda sad that guy you’ve been talking to couldn’t come,’ Yuki interjected. ‘I wanted to find out what he’s like.’

‘Minho had work-related travel, so he’s resting up.’ You shrugged, sipping your drink timidly.

‘I’m sure the guy made this excuse just to avoid meeting your friends. How long have you known him for, like, two days?’ Chanyeol interjected.

‘It’s been a few weeks, actually,’ you corrected, and Hoseok, Yuki’s boyfriend, muttered a reproaching ‘hyung’ in his direction.

‘Gosh, you’re really this stupid while drunk,’ Yuki shook her head disapprovingly at your friend, who simply shrugged.

Baekhyun was pretty silent during the latest exchange, so when you briefly made eye contact, it reminded you that he could also hear all of that chatter. Which made you want to choke on your drink from humiliation. Thankfully, one of your friends still had some tact left that night, so they quickly changed the direction of the conversation. Still… you’d been mortified for weeks after the event, doing your best to avoid bumping into Baekhyun when leaving for work.

***

The next time you met, Baekhyun was also in the lobby of your apartment building. And once again, before a gathering at your place. Just days prior you had lost it and left your resignation letter at your boss's desk. Working such long hours under the constant pressure of absolutely unrealistic deadlines was taking its toll on you for sure. But when you found out they promoted a person, who was obviously less experienced and capable than you in working (but more capable in flirting with your manager), instead of you… It became the last straw.

Baekhyun appeared right on time as you struggled to push the elevator button with a whole case of beer in your hands.

‘Y/N,’ you heard his velvety voice call. ‘Nice to see you.’

‘Oh- Hi, Baekhyun.’ You greeted awkwardly, puffing from the weight you had to balance.

‘Let me help you with that?’ His suggestion sounded like a question, yet he instantly scooped the case from your hands.

‘You don’t need- thank you,’ you said, and he shook his head to indicate that it wasn’t a big deal.

‘So… having a party again?’ He asked as the elevator doors closed.

‘I wouldn’t call it a party,’ you hummed, looking at your feet. ‘I kinda had to quit my horrible job of 4 years, so my friends are making me celebrate it. Not that becoming unemployed calls for a celebration…’

You trailed off, not wanting to be a nuisance to your neighbor. He was just making small talk.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Are you taking a break now or looking for something else?’

‘I’ll start looking next week. It’s Friday, my friends are coming… So I’ll try to just clear my mind and rest for one full weekend before I start stressing about a new job. Hopefully, my friends wouldn’t talk my ear off about it – that’s what the beer’s for. My little trick,’ you chuckled sheepishly.

‘Aren’t your friends supposed to treat you in this situation?’ Baekhyun huffed, shaking his head to rearrange his hair and better see you.

‘They should… bring more alcohol with them, I think. I couldn’t have them over for nothing, though.’

The doors opened after a robotic voice announced your floor.

‘Well, anyhow. Thanks a lot for your help!’ You tried taking the beer from Baekhyun, but he didn’t let you.

‘Open the door first; you can’t do it while holding this.’

‘Right. Thanks,’ you fussed, pressing your password in.

Baekhyun quickly placed the case on the floor of your hallway.

‘You should come!’ You blurted out, instantly getting flustered. ‘If you want.’

‘I might drop by if I’m free,’ he smiled softly. ‘My family wanted to have a video call later. That may take long.’

‘Of course. Have fun!’ You nodded, beating yourself up in your mind for being so weird suddenly.

‘You have fun,’ he chuckled, stepping towards his apartment. ‘Oh, and Y/N?’

Looking up at him as he called your name, you were met with his warm yet serious eyes.

‘If you need anything… You know where to find me.’

That made you strangely sentimental.

‘T-thank you.’

He sent you a message later on and let you know he couldn’t make it to your party. But in a way, he was there – on your mind.

***

It was about three weeks after you’d broken things off with Minho. If you could even consider it one, the relationship wasn’t long, only a couple months. At first, you thought it could be something, realizing later that it was only wishful thinking. There was no way the two of you could make it work; you were just not compatible with each other. The more you got to know him, the more you were reassured of that. Your life goals were different, your outlook on relationships was different… even your ideas of quality time with a significant other didn’t match. This time, the initial infatuation wore off rather quickly – probably because you didn’t go out of your way to appease him. You knew it was probably for the better. Pretty much all of your relationships ended the same way, with your boyfriends telling you they found someone else. Someone… more exciting.

This was the case for your first relationship halfway in your first year of university.

‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I just don’t feel the spark, you know? You’re so… domestic,’ your then-boyfriend said in his breakup speech. ‘I’m young, I want to experience stuff, be bold, and have fun. And there are people that I can do this with, who’ll also enjoy it.’

It repeated less than two years later when you’d barely worked up the courage to try and start something with another person. When it happened the third time, you decided you weren’t really made for relationships. It was ironic since you always wanted to be in one. You were very affectionate and were keen on taking care of people. Yes, you weren’t that into big gatherings and parties, and maybe it was a little too difficult to drag you anywhere when you were stressing about the upcoming tests and stuff… But you weren’t completely closed off! Even with those limitations, you were very sociable and had many friends. Was it so bad that you didn’t say yes to every suggestion? Did your inclination to stay at home and have cozy dates instead of outdoorsy stuff make you a non-relationship material? It seemed like every time someone else appeared, your boyfriends easily decided to move on.

And even though you weren’t in love with Minho, this breakup still made you sour. What made this particular day suck was that you’d found out that he was already in a new relationship; happily broadcasting it everywhere.

You weren’t jealous of him for being with someone else. You envied him for being able to find another partner in mere days after you parted ways, while for you, it felt like you’d never find or be able to retain anyone. Ever. Never ever.

‘Earth to Y/N!’ You jumped from someone’s voice ringing in your ears.

Looking up, you saw that the elevator doors were held open by your dashing neighbor, who was staring directly at you.

‘Sorry, I spaced out,’ you quickly entered. ‘Hi.’

‘Hey,’ Baekhyun smiled, pressing the button for your floor. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Um, yeah. No. I mean-’ You sighed. ‘I’m just a bit out of sorts.’

‘Trouble at work?’

‘No, my new job is great. A huge improvement on the previous one. It’s just… everything else is not nearly as great?’

Yeah, because you pushed yourself to get back on the market to finally not be alone, and here you were. Back to square one.The sniffling you produced startled even your own self.

‘Oh god, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ he replied, his voice gentle. ‘Do you want to talk?’

‘Oh no, I wouldn’t dream about boring you with my stupid problems.’

‘I’m sure they aren’t stupid,’ he said. ‘And I have ice cream. Almost any flavor you could think of.’

You looked at him silently, and he smiled again reassuringly.

‘It’s not mandatory for you to tell me anything. But I can treat my favorite neighbor with some ice cream, can I not?’

‘Am I your favorite just because you don’t know anyone else?’ You snickered gawkily.

‘No. Not just-’

He was interrupted by the usual announcement of your floor.

‘So, what do you think? You can change first and then come, no hurry. I’m free tonight.’

You puckered your lips, genuinely intrigued by his offer. Ice cream sounded perfect right about now. Although agreeing just because of the promised treats was pretty childish, you couldn’t help but be seduced by his suggestion. So, you gave him a shy nod.

‘Okay. Throw on something comfy and come over.’

You entered your respective apartments, and only after the door behind you locked… you realized that your heart was racing.

‘Damn you, Y/N, why did you agree to do this??’ You whined, catching a glimpse of your scrunched-up face in the mirror.

Fishing your phone out of your handbag quickly, you messaged Yuki.

You | I fucked up, Yu!!

You | Idk what to do now…. ㅠㅠ

Ki-yaah | What happened?? Did you like a pic on Minho’s new gf’s SNS??

Ki-yaah | I’m so dumb for telling you about this… I’m so sorry Y/N ㅠㅠ

You | No, not that

You | Who cares about Minho and his girlfriend??

You | I mean, I was a bit salty about this… But I met Baekhyun again!

Ki-yaah | Baekhyun? Your cute as fuck neighbor Baekhyun??

You | No

You | Yes?

You | My neighbor Baekhyun. I blurted out that I wasn’t in the greatest mood, and he invited me to his place for ice cream!

Ki-yaah | WHAT

Ki-yaah | YAH

Ki-yaah | THAT SLEEK BASTARD

Ki-yaah | I hope you’re texting me from his couch

Ki-yaah | Or kitchen counter

Ki-yaah | Or wherever you kids decide to do it

A bunch of obscene emojis appeared on your screen, making you blush on the spot.

You | Do it?? We’re not doing anything. I’m home!

Ki-yaah | So, you’ve already done it?? HOW WAS IT??

Ki-yaah | Waaah, you’re quick these days, Y/N-ah! Finally, you’re learning your lessons

Ki-yaah | I hope you wrapped it up though

Ki-yaah | I wouldn’t blame you if you skipped it, though, I can imagine how starved you are on good sex.. Still, safety first!

Ki-yaah | Wait, so was he?? Any good??

Ki-yaah | You’re silent!

She typed so fast that you didn’t even have a second to write back, mostly from shock – your friend wasn’t always this shameless, actually.

Then she started calling.

‘Yah, why aren’t you spilling the beans?? Too worn out to type, bestie?’ She smirked on the phone, making you cringe.

‘Because there’s nothing to spill! I haven’t even gone over yet.’

There was a second of silence.

‘… What?!’

‘I have to change; I just came from work, you know? My makeup needs fixing too…’

Your phone instantly started vibrating as a video call request came in, which you begrudgingly accepted.

‘Damn, you can’t go like this. It’s not seductive at all!’ She exclaimed.

‘I’m not going over to seduce anyone! And he told me to wear something comfy…’

‘What?? Hm, actually…’ She tapped her index finger on her chin, deep in thought. ‘He does look like the type to be into that.’

‘I-into what?’

‘Cute girls! I told you already, he was probably crushing on you since the time he came to your housewarming party!’

‘Pfft, that’s ridiculous. And don’t bring up him allegedly glaring at Yeol for his stupid comments again, I beg of you!’

‘Alright. But he’s always so nice to you! Oh-Em-Gee, you’d look so cute together,’ she squealed.

‘I don’t have time for this. I can’t have him waiting for much longer, and I need to shower…’

‘Yes! And remove your makeup while you’re at it.’

‘Huh?? If I redo my makeup… isn’t it gonna look strange? Like I’m trying too hard?’

‘You won’t have to redo it. You’ll have only very basic nude makeup on. Looking all natural and cute.’

‘I swear, if you say ‘cute’ one more time-’

‘Can’t a girl dream?? I can already imagine how cute your children would be…’ Your friend kept musing.

‘I’m hanging up.’

‘Yah, take this seriously. Clean up nicely, and let your hair down. Also, shave your-’

‘Yuki!!’

‘You never know!! One second, he’s licking ice cream off his spoon; the other, he’s l-’

Quickly tapping on your phone screen, you canceled this embarrassing call. The vivid images didn’t leave your mind as fast, though, so you shivered, shaking your head to get rid of the obscenities.

‘She’s a bad influence, for sure,’ you muttered, still ashamed of yourself for imagining your neighbor in such a context.

The time was ticking, so you decided that Yuki was somewhat right and needed to clean up. You also needed to hurry the heck up; you didn’t want to make Baekhyun wait too long. Thirty minutes later, you were in front of his door.

‘Come in, come in,’ he ushered you inside, having you change your footwear for the pink house slippers.

Why did he have those again?

‘Cute, right? I ordered them for my niece and got the size completely wrong, but they fit you perfectly. I guess I wasn’t wrong after all.’

He looked at your feet for another second before blinking and clearing his throat.

‘Let’s not waste any more time, everything’s ready. Come on!’

Everything? Did he prepare a whole reception?

You took a good look at the back of his head as he walked you to his kitchen, noticing that his hair was slightly wet. Did he also shower? You swallowed at the thought. He probably didn’t invest as much time into the preparations as you did, though. You blamed your best friend for the inappropriate thought she planted in your head!

‘Here, take a look.’

He opened his freezer, and you gasped.

There was an entire collection of ice cream. Cones, popsicles, buckets… All different flavors and manufacturers.

‘I see you’re impressed,’ he smirked. ‘I have a niece and a nephew, you know? Kids aren’t easy to please these days.’

‘Can’t deny that I am. How many do you have here?’

‘No idea… I just keep buying them. Which one’s to your liking? You can try different ones. I’m in the mood for mint choco and lemon.’

‘Those are my favorites!’ You jumped up like a kid.

‘Really? Both?’

‘Yeah! I haven’t seen a lemon ice cream anywhere, only sorbets! Where did you find it?’ You closed the freezer as he got the two buckets out.

Baekhyun suddenly seemed pleased with himself.

‘You think I give away trade secrets just like that…’ He replied mysteriously.

‘I wanna buy some too,’ you pouted, circling around him while he took the lids off. ‘If you don’t tell me… I’ll eat all of yours!’

‘Ha, go ahead. There’s more where that came from,’ he teased right back, hovering slightly over you.

Lowering your gaze to avoid staring directly at him, you noticed something.

‘What’s this?’

Baekhyun turned back to the counter.

‘Ah, this old thing? You know how ice cream scoops are sold in paper cups or cones? This thing,’ he picked it up. ‘Is to make those. Watch.’

He dipped the instrument in water and shook it slightly, then scooped the mint ice cream, creating a smooth green ball with tiny pieces of chocolate adding to its hue.

‘Cool,’ you muttered, genuinely finding that fascinating.

‘Right? It’s awesome!’

‘Let me guess: the kids don’t appreciate it enough?’ You asked.

‘Those little- Here, you try with lemon.’ He pressed on a small lever and dropped the green globe into a bowl.

You shook your head.

‘I’ll mess it up; you do it.’

‘Come on, Y/N. You can’t mess it up; it’s just ice cream.’

‘Just ice cream? You don’t deserve to know the secret selling spots for this!’

He snorted, moving to the side to give you more space to try and repeat his previous actions.

You dipped it in water like he did and shook it before moving the lemon ice cream bucket closer. Spending about twenty seconds taking aim, you huffed.

‘I can’t do it! Yours is so round and pretty; I am not that professional.’

‘I’ll help,’ he chuckled at your meltdown, holding your wrist and softly pressing down on your hand to guide it. ‘Scoop it this way to make it full and round.’

You did as you were told, yet your mind was far away from the scooping technique. The entire focus of your being was now set on the unprecedented proximity you were in. He held your hand, his chest so close to your shoulder that you could feel the heat radiating off him. When you dropped a yellow ball of lemon ice cream into the bowl, you could only pray that he didn’t notice the goosebumps littering your arms.

‘See? Yours is even better-shaped than mine,’ he hummed close to your ear.

‘Y-yeah.’

As if sensing your perturbation, Baekhyun suddenly stepped back.

‘Trying just two flavors is a waste of an evening. Let’s get more.’

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in his living room at the small table in front of his couch. The bowl with at least a dozen different ice creams sat atop another one, which was filled with ice.

‘No one likes melted goo, right?’ Baekhyun chuckled while constructing this mobile freezer.

You tried all of them one by one, gushing about each flavor.

‘The grape one isn’t tickling my fancy,’ he said, nudging the oddly-colored glob away.

‘Really?’ You reached for it with your spoon.

‘Don’t even try it. That’s bad,’ he scrunched his nose. ‘I can taste every chemical they used to make this grape flavor.’

You laughed, trying it despite his protests.

‘It tastes like… very cheap jelly,’ you said.

‘Exactly! Such a strange texture. Hmm, I shall look for a better option then. My nephew Siwoo loves grapes.’

You smiled at his concern for his youngest family member’s preferences.

‘Your nephews must be the happiest kids in town with an uncle like that,’ you murmured, stealing a bite from the rest of the lemon ball that he subtly nudged your way earlier.

‘They’re pretty lucky, aren’t they?’ He agreed easily, earning a snicker from you.

As you savored the last of the lemon flavor on your tongue, he leaned in, eyes focused on your lips.

‘You eat just like Siwoo,’ he instinctively wiped your lower lip with his thumb.

Looking up at him, you caught the moment he realized what he was doing and retreated.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered awkwardly. ‘It’s a habit.’

Pressing your finger to your lower lip, which was now burning, you shook your head neutrally.

‘It’s okay. You must spend a lot of time with them,’ you scooped more in your spoon to somehow soothe the burn on your lips.

‘Not as much as I’d like. Most of the time, our schedules don’t match up, especially with them living in a different city. I try to have them over or visit them as much as possible.’

Baekhyun’s voice became warmer as he reminisced.

‘I get scolded by hyung a lot for spoiling them. But what can I do? At least they’ll have those pleasant memories and presents to remember me by while we’re apart.’

‘Are they close in age?’

‘About four years apart. Seoyul is pretty grown already; I can’t believe her little brother is going to school soon as well.’ He smiled, remembering something. ‘When she started her first grade, he was so upset. He cried every time she left the house.’

‘Aw, that’s so cute,’ you cooed. ‘So they’re getting along well?’

‘Yeah, apart from the occasional bickering. Siwoo is… a boy.’

‘A little daredevil?’

‘He’s driving his noona insane sometimes. To be honest, I was exactly the same at his age. We’re both lucky to have siblings several years older.’

‘Ah, so your hyung is much older than you?’

‘Seven years. He was almost like a father,’ Baekhyun chuckled. ‘But had he been even a couple of years younger… Pretty sure he would’ve given me a piece of his mind back then.’

‘I wouldn’t ever imagine that you were a maknae of your family.’

‘Why? I had so much aegyo as a child! Yes, my mom had to exercise lots of patience, but I was cute as hell.’

‘I’m sure that’s how it was,’ you hummed.

‘I’m still in the top-3 cutest of our family list. Might even be cuter than Seoyul at times; she’s way too serious these days.’

‘Wow, going over your nephews’ heads after the title… How mature of you.’

‘Hey, don’t blame me for being extremely cute.’

‘Show me some aegyo then,’ you challenged him with a smile.

‘Huh, you wish. You’re not ready for my aegyo, Y/N-ie.’ He responded sassily.

‘Is that so?’ You smirked, holding his gaze up until the chime of your phone provided an interruption.

Your bestie found a great time to pry into your business, which was evident from the message previews on the screen.

Ki-yaah | You’re not texting me back…

Ki-yaah | Which either means that you chickened out…

Ki-yaah | …or his stamina is REALLY freaking impressive

Ki-yaah | Which one is it??? I hope it’s the latter!

You inhaled sharply and started coughing, barely managing to swipe those messages off the screen before Baekhyun could see them.

‘Are you okay?’ He patted you on the back to help you overcome your coughing fit.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t realize it was so late… It was so rude of me to keep you up. Let me help you clean this up.’

‘Leave it,’ he shook his head, catching you by the wrist. ‘I’ll put this away later.’

‘I’ll… get going then,’ you stood so abruptly that your legs couldn’t keep up with you, completely numb from being in the same position for so long.

‘Y/N!’ Baekhyun rose to catch you by the arms. ‘Take a second, sit on the couch. Your legs must’ve fallen asleep.’

You swatted at your legs with your palms, urging the blood flow to restore quicker.

‘Sorry…’

‘Why are you sorry? I’m not in a hurry to get rid of you.’ He stated simply.

‘It’s just so late… and… you must have stuff to do.’

‘Nope. I actually had fun. I rarely get to sit around at home munching on ice cream and enjoying another grownup’s company.’

You bit your lip shyly at his words, and he suddenly tsked.

‘Although I feel like we were mostly talking about me. That’s a shame. I want to hear about you as well,’ Baekhyun mused, walking you to the door. ‘Well, let’s save it for next time.’

Next time, he said.

Next time??

You turned your back on him to conceal the shade of your cheeks and pretended to fidget with the doorknob.

‘Let me,’ he reached over you, pressing his warm chest to your back for a second to unlock the door.

But before you could step outside, his fingers wrapped around your forearm in a lax hold.

‘And Y/N… If you ever find yourself craving some lemon ice cream… I’m ready to provide it.’

With that, he pushed the door open and allowed you to leave his apartment.

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading! Another BBH mini-series started 💫 I hope you enjoyed part 1~ Pls let me know what you think via comments, asks and reblogs, my darlings 💜 Also, I am very curious if you are picturing anyone in particular as Hoseok hehe 🙃

[watsittoyah]

Watsittoyah Master List!

Here are some of my fan fics that have either made it to the internet and prospered or just got the axe for lack of interaction. (I will update this later but please don’t expect it soon I sometimes forget to charge my lap top and I’ll get to editing)

Marvel Roster (These guys are cooler than the other side of the pillow)

1. Namor- Sitting on the throne (one shot?) NSFW

2. Namor- Hate that I love you (Still typing?)NSFW

3. Moon Knight- Anchors (Still typing)NSFW

4. Miguel O’Hara, Spider-man 2099- Along came a spider 2099 (Completed)NSFW

ch.1- Don't I know you?

ch.2- Bites & Fangs

ch.3- Tinted Windows

ch.4- Just To Put My Mind At Ease

ch.5- The Skeletons In His Closet

ch.6- The Calm Before The Storm

ch.7- Everything Is Not What It Seems...

ch.8- In A Snap

ch.9- And The Puzzles Fall Into Place

ch.10- Arachnophobia Behavior…

ch.11- Perfection Can’t Be Obtained…

ch.12- Pumpkin Pie Is Best Served Cold (Pt1)

ch.13-And The Truth Comes To Light…

ch.14- Pumpkin Pie Is Best Served Cold Pt.2

5. Miles Morales Spider-Man- A Glitch In the universe (To be announced)

STRANGER THINGS (Don’t look at me like that…)

1. Eddie Munson x Blk Fem Reader X Steve Harrington- Heartbreaker (Still typing) NSFW

ch.1- Rule Number One

ch.2- Rule Number Two

ch.3- Rule Number Three

ch.4- Rule Number Four

ch.5- Rule Number Five

EUPHORIA (You knew this was coming)

1. Nate Jacobs x Blk Fem Reader -Mixtape (Still Typing) NSFW

Track 1

DC Comics (My Best boys, and all of their smutty glory!!)

Dick Grayson X Blk Fem Reader- Prayers Of A Sinner -(Currently typing) NSFW

Ch. 1- Thou Shall Not Kill...

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Blk Fem!reader -Before the Snow, Came the Flame.. (Nsfw/ Currently typing/posting)

Ch. 00-Just Say Yes

Ch. 01- A Rose With Thorns (Pt. 1)

An Obsessive!Qimir X Blk Fem!reader (oc, star wars smut fic) - The Devil's Playpen (nsfw currently typing)

CH. 01- When The Predator Becomes Prey...

CH. 02- Fear Is Only A Four Letter Word...

CH. 03- When He's Good, He's Great. But When He's Evil...

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Moonlight -x- Sunlight

ch.3 -- Demons' 101 (cw// banner has flashing txt!)

r.kyojuro/f.reader

genre: modern!au, teacher!kyojuro by day/demonslayer by night, izakayaworker!reader, slowburn?, romance, angst

warning(s): slight implications of anxiety, rengoku info-dumps about demons, Taco being Taco

w.count: 6.3k

synopsis: if someone told you that one night you’d find yourself walking down the street at three in the morning before you were running for your life away from a disjointed monster hot on your heels- you’d probably check for fever or intoxication. but, when that actually happens, all you think of is running and praying for a miracle as you stare death in the face. turns out, that miracle comes in the form of reassuring smiles and a red sword beneath a bridge and by the riverside.

-x-x-x-

a/n: hope y'all are ready bc shes back!! read the a/n pt.2 at the end for further instructions heheh (if there's still grammatical errors soz i edited this in chunks and couldn't be bothered to reread everything one more time)

-x-x-x-

You were slouched against your locker in the back room where your aprons and extra clothes are kept by the end of your shift. The izakaya had finally closed, and while it was closed earlier than usual since patrons seemed to have filed out pretty quick tonight, the way your throbbing ankle felt didn't make the early closing any better. You had willed away most of the pain, carrying on as if nothing was wrong, and kept yourself busy with micro-breaks here and there, but now that it was all said and done, well, you’ve felt better. 

You quickly took off your apron and tossed it in your locker and grabbed your purse, slinging it over your shoulder. Snatching your crutch, you placed it under your shoulder and sighed when you lifted your foot and relieved it of your weight. 

“Christ,” you mutter to yourself before you’re hobbling your way out of the locker room, through the main lobby all the way to the entrance. You shouted to whoever may be around still, be it lingering coworkers or your boss, before you slid open the door and left. With a small show of your balance, you pushed the door shut with your crutch as you stood on your one good leg before bringing the crutch back down where it needed to be. 

You sidle to the right away from the entrance, just out of reach for the hanging lamps to cast a shadow over you when you take a shaky breath. You found yourself paranoid in the early morning hours- but, you couldn’t blame yourself. The last time you were out this late after a shift, you almost died. You took a deep breath, then another… then another. You try calming yourself down, convincing yourself that what happened was a once-in-a-lifetime freak accident and there was no way you’d be unlucky enough to get caught up in something like that again. 

“It’s fine,” you tell yourself. “I’m fine,” you repeat. The palm you used to grab the handle of your crutch felt sweaty, so you took it off for a moment and furiously wiped it on your shirt before returning it.  “You’re going to be fine,” you hiss to yourself, looking down at your feet, one uninjured and the other replaced with a crutch foot. The same feet that still wouldn’t move despite your pep talk. 

Stuck in your mental battle on when you’re finally going to get your limbs to start taking you home, you completely miss the person walking up behind you until they call out to you. 

“Is your ankle in much pain?” 

You squawk, your crutch jumping out away from your leg and making your teeter before correcting yourself and using your other arm to reach across your body and grab onto the medical addition to your body in further stability. Whipping your head up, you once again come face to face with Rengoku. Still smiling, even if there’s a hint of concern in his wide eyes since he didn’t exactly mean to spook you. You also took notice of his arms that were outstretched and ready to catch you if you began careening down to the pavement.

You correct your posture and face him, feeling embarrassed for a number of reasons. 

“I’m slated to never have a normal greeting with you, am I?” You speak more to yourself than him since every time you’ve encountered him so far- not including when he was a paying customer not so long ago- has been riddled with embarrassment or fear. You’ve come face to face with him three times now, and you conducted yourself better in front of Kocho who you had met once and stripped down to your bones in front of. “What are you still doing out at this hour?” 

“I am doing a simple round of patrols for this sector of the city,” he tells you and your eyes finally drift down to see the white sheath on his hip supported by the harness he wore on his chest and over his shoulders- the same items he had when you first saw him. Seeing them again made a lump form in your throat that you tried to choke down. You felt a bit stupid for the question because what else would he be doing out this late when you’ve seen first hand what could happen. 

“Yeah, sorry,” you shake your head and scoff at yourself, “I could’ve guessed.” 

“No need to apologize!” That didn’t exactly reassure you. Rengoku was good at reading people, he spent a lot of time doing so among his years, so your unsteady and somewhat jittery presence did not fly over his head. “Are you heading home?” 

“Planning on it, yeah.” 

“It’s much earlier than last time, that is good!” 

“It was a slow night so we closed down earlier.” 

“Would you like an escort home?” 

“An escort?” Your words were short as you confirm what he’s just asked you. Part of you hates that he basically just told you that he can see your paranoia and anxiousness as clear as day. You glance away and gnaw at your lip, conflicted. You most certainly didn’t want to walk home alone, the nightmarish memories haunting you like a... well like a demon. But you also didn’t want to appear fragile because you couldn’t walk home like you had a thousand times before. 

You take a deep, shaky breath as Rengoku steps closer to you, his hair lighting up further as he gets closer to the hanging lanterns behind you. The colors and shades nearing the light resembling a warm campfire to keep woodland terrors at bay. A safe beacon.

“It is not wrong to be afraid.” 

“I'm not!” You instinctively argue back, but immediately bite your own tongue realizing that raising your voice at his kindness was most certainly rude. However, even a two year old could tell that your words were clearly a lie. You sigh again, apologizing for your outburst. “Yes, I am,” you admit more to yourself than to him.

Rengoku just smiles down at your averted eyes and moves to stand beside you before gently slipping your purse off your shoulder and slotting it up his arm to rest on his own. He outstretched his opposite arm as he caught your eyes again and gently signaled you to start moving at your own pace. 

“Allow me to walk you home then.” With him already having taken your purse and gestured his intent to not be swayed on his decision, you smirk teasing up at him and chuckle. 

“Arguing won’t get me anywhere, will it?” 

Not that you really wanted it to.

“It will not!” Well, at least he was honest. 

The walk back was relatively quiet, save for the nighttime crickets that chirped along with the toads hidden away in corners. The sounds of the cicadas had lessened from this afternoon to a dull buzz instead of mind-numbing shrills. You kept taking glances at Rengoku, your purse hanging off the shoulder closest to you as you hobbled along on your crutches. You could barely see the tip of his sword's hilt from around him without being too obvious you were even looking to begin with. He must’ve kept it as horizontal to his leg as possible to avoid catching whatever riff-raff attention could be mangling around. 

“Does something interest you?” Apparently, you weren’t as sneaky as you thought. You shoot your gaze forwards, nearly stumbling on your set of extra rubber feet and clearing your throat, the summer air suddenly way too dry for the humid season. 

“I just, well, I didn’t think you’d notice?” You tell him honestly. He chuckles at your words and you feel a little better since he doesn’t sound freaked out by your clearly awkward behavior. “I guess I was a little curious about your, what do you call it, second job? The whole,” you lift one of your crutches, stopping your movements momentarily as you whip it around and grunt (rather embarrassingly) before putting it back down, “sword job thing?” 

He laughs before letting out a small “Ah!” in recognition of your curiosity. Maybe it was because of the early hours, but part of you feared an apartment window flicking on in response to his boisterous laughter. Still, you easily admitting to yourself that it was a lovely sound. 

“Curiosity may not be the wisest decision when it is about what goes on after the sun sets. Sometimes, it’s best that people believe demon’s are nothing but fictional stories made up simply to spook children.” 

“Oh,” you were a little disappointed. You had already been attacked and injured, it’s not like you’d call him a liar if he told you. “I see.” You still wanted to know more, even if it was terrifying. With your crestfallen expression and new goal to just get home without creating an uncomfortable atmosphere, you missed the small look the flame-haired man gave you. 

“Regardless of my skills, being out so late at night can be dangerous for anyone,” he starts, eyes casting forwards once more as he continues to lead you home. “There are many kinds of demons under the moon, and some can be more ferocious than others. If one catches sight of myself or another of my…” he pauses to find a decent word. “... coworkers,” he decides on, “chances are split that they flee from us, or do the opposite and begin a confrontation if they’re feeling particularly omnipotent.” 

That small piece of information made you feel a little better about his choice to stay quiet about it all, his choice to disclose that even he wasn’t always 100% safe was bone chilling. Still, it did not soothe your curiousity completely. You decided to shake it off, you were acting like a child- it wasn’t your business and this man was nothing more than a stranger you’ve run into a couple times. The fact he literally saved your life had nothing to do with it- you had to let it go. 

It was rude to pry. 

“Perhaps when we get to your home I can answer your questions there.” You stop in your limping steps as you look at him. He was smiling at you, something warm and comforting and you seemed to light up. “That is if I would be allowed inside a young woman’s house at this hour.” 

“Of course!” Perhaps you were too loud because you immediately covered your mouth with one hand, nearly dropping one of your crutches. You look around, seeing no light flick on and no windows opening to yell for you to keep it down. You lower your hand, a small smile on your face as you clear your throat. “Of course,” you repeat, much more quietly this time. “As long as you don’t mind a temporarily handicapped host and one obnxiously sassy cat.” 

He laughs loudly again. “I happen to be fond of cats and your company as well!” 

“We’ve met twice, and one of those times I was covered in grass stains, dirt, and sweat.”

“I am a very good judge of character!” You roll your eyes, but somehow, you believe him. 

-x-x-x-

“Um, just take your shoes off at the door please.” You tell Rengoku as you sit yourself on the small stool you’ve set up by the front door so you can take your shoes off without much fuss. He easily complies, as he steps into your house only to turn and patiently wait for you to finish up. As you drop your shoes, he offers his arm as you gratefully take it and hoist yourself up with the use of the cane you keep at your door in exchange for your crutches. 

In the comfort of your own home that you could maneuver through blindfolded, you greatly preferred the short, ease of use of a cane. You kept it a secret from Kocho though, who knows if she’d scold you for the unprompted buy since she was probably the most professional and strict doctor you’ve been the patient of. 

Luckily, since Rengoku had been in your home this much before, he let you use his arm with your free hand all the way until you got into the living room. Much like how he carried you in before. You slip your palm off his forearm and step around him, much less clunky without your crutches. 

“Have a seat. I don’t have much to offer, but I do have cold bottled water I can promise hasn't been opened,” you joke as he laughs. 

“I appreciate the hospitality, however you do not need to-” 

“Ah-tata,” you cut him off, “just because my foot isn’t at peak recovery doesn’t mean I can’t get you a small bottle of water. The kitchen isn’t far anyways.” Rengoku relented. Just as it was impossible to argue with him, it seemed to go both ways. He smiled. 

He liked that. 

As you disappeared into the kitchen, a small meow and curious tap against his shin caught his attention as he stood by the couch. He smiled down at the black cat as he slid his sword out of the harness he wore and set it gently against the couch so as to not startle your pet. He knelt, offering his hand out as Taco’s little nose bumped against it, sniffing before rubbing his head against the warm knuckles of Rengoku. 

“Aren’t you cute,” he mumbles to himself. 

“Only around guests,” you add, coming back into the living room to see Rengoku loving on your cat. “He’s cute now, but he’s a big pain in my butt when he wants to be.” You offer him a cold bottle of some random brand of water you bought on sale.

“Aren’t many animals that way?” He graciously takes the plastic bottle from you, the chill of it is a welcome change in his warm palm. 

“I think it’s because I spoil him too much. He was a very unprompted rescue, so I went a little overboard raising him.” 

“There is nothing wrong with raising an animal with so much care! He seems very happy!” 

You plop yourself on the couch and Taco was quick to abandon Rengoku’s side in favor of yourself as he jumped on the cushions and stepped onto your lap where he folded his legs and lay himself down. You scratch at his back, making him stretch and roll before he’s trying to play and swipe at your hand and fingers. 

The small little tag that read ‘TACO’ in engraved letters caught Rengoku’s eye and he chuckled at the name. Indeed, that was a very happy and loved cat, he had no doubt. 

“You’re welcome to sit on the couch,” you lightly joke at his still kneeling form on your livingroom floor. He does as you suggest, thanking you before sitting a cushion away from you as to not push personal boundaries or opposingly seem too standoff-ish. It was quiet for a bit as you fiddle with your own waterbottle in your hand. “I hope I’m not causing any trouble,” you announce bashfully. 

“Pardon?” 

“Well,” you breathe, untwisting, then retwisting, just to untwist your bottle cap again to try and focus on something other than your sudden anxiety. “I just sort of dragged you here. I dunno, I feel like I’m pulling you away from your job? I know how important it is.” 

“Worry not,” he quells. “There are many others like myself who also patrol the streets when the sun sets! I am not the only one, so my company here is no trouble at all!” 

“Oh, right, you mentioned other coworkers. Are there a lot of you?” 

“There is! We’re an organization of many people, but since we’re unrecognized by the government and since people do not believe in demon’s unless they survive an encounter with one, we are very scarcely known.” You nod at him. You feel a little sad at the fact he, and others like him, were risking their safety and no one even knew. “In fact, there are even a few of my students who work along side me as well!” 

“Students?” You whip your full attention to him at mention of children. “You’re a teacher?” 

“I am!” 

“And you all just, what? Let children into your little demon-slaying job?” 

“Well, not exactly, no.” Rengoku worried he wold break into a sweat at your accusatory tone of getting children involved in clearly dangerous work. “Although it is dangerous, younger slayers are put through rigirous training and must past a very specific qualification test before they can even take to the field like I do. We of higher ranking always make sure to watch out for our young underlings. They are our future after all!” 

The idea of kids fighting those… things still didn’t sit quite right with you, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. And if Rengoku says that they’re well taken care of, and skillful above that, then surely they weren’t in too much danger. You wanted to trust his words so you shut your eyes and willed yourself to do so.

“Plus, we are not so reckless as to just assign anything to anyone. No demon is slain by a slayer who is weaker than the task at hand. We’re very meticulous about such things.” 

“I understand.” You open your eyes and glance over at your cane for a moment then speak up again. “So, what are demons exactly?” 

“Demons are former humans who have either been killed and revived by demon blood, or made a deal with another demon for power.” 

“Former humans?” Your mind flashed back to the spindly, disfigured, skeletal demon that attacked you. “So, that thing that attacked me? That was once a person?” Rengoku nodded and a chill ran violently down your spine. 

“At some point, yes it was. However, based on its appearance, it must’ve been a demon for a very long time to change that much.” That didn’t exactly make you feel better about it. “You must understand that demons are dangerous creatures regardless of what they used to be. They will not hesitate to attack and slaughter humans. We do not kill demons for sport, it is necessary to protect future victims.” 

“I believe you and I understand- I do, it’s just… a lot to process, I guess?” You blow a harsh breath out of your lips. “So, how do you kill them? I mean with your sword I guess, but is there any other way?” 

Rengoku nodded, grabbing his sword’s scabbard and hilt before drawing it. The red blade you had gotten a glimpse of the night of the attack shone brilliantly in your well-lit living room. It was truly a beautiful blade to look at and the sword guard in the shape of flames was very fitting to its wielder. 

“To kill a demon it must be done with a very specific sword with a blade made out of a specific mineral that’s been bathed in sunlight for many years. This is a nichirin sword, a sword that has a color changing blade.” 

“So, a regular sword wouldn’t work?” 

“Correct!” He offers his sword over for you to hold and inspect it. You gently take it from him after you move Taco out of the way so that he wouldn’t start playing with it like it was a toy. “You can hack a demon into pieces with a regular blade, but it will always regenerate. A demon must be decapitated with a nichirin sword or it will continue to wreck havoc.” You hand the sword back to him and he easily sheaths it with practiced ease. “However, there are ways to defend yourself from demons, if you’d like to hear?” 

You nod, intrigued by the entirely new concept of the world you had been so oblivious to for so many years of your life. You wanted to know more, to understand more. It was captivating and if he was willing to tell, you were willing to listen. 

“There are special guns forged in our line of work that have crafted bullets that cause great harm to demons! Among other ways to deter them, demons are unable to stand wisteria.” 

“Wistera? Like the flower?” 

“Yes! Clusters of Wisteria trees are always a safe place to run to in the event one is close by. Even wisteria-scented charms and poisons are toxic and painful to their kind, they actively avoid anything to do with it. In fact, Kocho is a demon slayer, the same as I!” 

“Really?!” Rengoku laughs loudly at your shock, but after a moment it did make sense. She was specifically referred by him and knew everything about what you experienced and believed it easily. If you had stopped to think about it, it was pretty easy to assume she was involved somehow, but a fighter? That was a bit of a shock considering her stature.

“Though she does not have the strength to cut a demon’s head off its shoulders, she’s developed a technique that incorporates poisons in her duty that are lethal upon injection.”

“Wow,” you awe. She was more impressive by the day. 

“Of course, it helps that she’s also a very skilled doctor!” 

“That’s true,” you lightly giggle. There’s silence in your living room once more as you glance over at the blond haired man. “So,” you start and gain his attention, “you’re a teacher?” You already knew the answer, he answered you earlier but it was the best ice breaker you could think of.  

“That is correct.” 

“I feel like I could’ve guessed if you didn’t already tell me. You explain things well. Your students must like you.” 

“I cannot say how well I am at teaching in particular, but my student’s grades never drop to failing marks! You must keep the children interested in the lesson if you wish for them to grow. I do my best to achieve nothing less!” 

“What do you teach?” 

“History! I find it very fascinating- the past that is.” You nod. “Not to mention, I have been teaching my younger brother many things since we were young and I always enjoyed doing so. So, the profession grew on me. I very quickly knew what I wanted to do with my life during the time the sun is in the sky.” 

“A younger brother? How old is he?” 

“He’s currently in high school. Despite our age gap, we get along very well!” 

“That’s great that you both get along. I’m an only child myself, but I do have a younger cousin. He feels more like a kid brother though, so I can sort of understand. The school’s he’s attending right now has dorm buildings for it’s students, so we don’t visit much,” you reminisce as you comfortably cross your arms. 

“I’m sure you miss him.” 

“Sometimes,” you chuckle. “Then there are times I’m glad he’s not actually my brother, as horrible as that sounds.” 

“Regardless, I’m sure he feels the same!” 

Thankfully, before the conversation took a turn for the mushy, Taco started to meow at you. He had jumped onto the floor earlier after being taken off your lap and roamed before coming back to paw at your leg. You leaned down and scratched under his chin as you felt him purr. 

“I know, you need to be fed,” you tell him as you start coddling him. You excuse yourself as Rengoku got off the couch to help you to your feet before you were off to the kitchen again, Taco trotting eagerly behind you. 

In the silence of your living room alone again, Kyojuro Rengoku looked around the room at all the decorations. Some frames on the wall here, some dry plants there, a couple cat toys scattered around the floor that was no doubt Taco’s doing, and a grey cat tower was close to the main window in the room where the dark curtains were drawn for the night. Despite all that he was visually taking in, he was stuck in his thoughts.  

Kyojuro was always a people person, he enjoyed chatting and making connections, it was another reason he loved teaching so much.  Something about tonight felt different to him though. Like this one experience with this one person- you- was something out of the ordinary. LIke it was something special. 

When you came back from feeding Taco, you carried random conversation topics before an ill-timed alarm went off on his phone that had been stuffed in his pocket this whole time. The sudden sound startled you and Rengoku was quick to apologize before realizing how late it was. If he didn’t get home and get at least some sleep, tomorrow’s lesson would surely be a lackadaisical one. 

You saw him out, despite how much he insisted you not be on your feet, and before you knew it he was outside your door and then gone. 

“He’s fast,” you muttered to the air he used to occupy before shutting your door and double-checking to make sure you did in fact lock it. You looked at both sides of your front door devoid of any decorations. “Maybe I should get some tables or something to put some flowers on so the front entrance isn’t so boring.” 

With that last thought, you called for Taco because you needed to get to bed yourself. Sleep found you easily as opposed to the last few nights, and with it brought nothing but calm darkness. You were grateful for a night of sleep without nightmares.

-x-x-x-

Another week had passed and a small part of you was disappointed that you hadn’t heard or seen heads or tails of Rengoku again. He hadn’t been by the izakaya with his friend or anyone else for that matter, and you haven’t had the pleasure of running into him in the streets. Of course, the moment the feeling of disappointment nagged at you, you immediately tried to squash it down.

Despite the fact that he was A) someone who saved your life and B) a man you allowed into your home a grand total of two times didn’t erase the fact that he was still practically a stranger. A stranger who spilled his guts about his profession and gave a brief history lesson about demons in your living room, but a stranger nonetheless. 

Your foot had improved drastically since a week ago and you could now walk without dragging a crutch or cane around with you. The pain would still sometimes ebb at the joint, but you’d always try and find a place for a pitstop to rest and take any on-hand pain medication before it got too bad. 

Your current pitstop? Your local library. 

You didn’t really have any explanation why you decided to come here on your spare time, furthermore why you were nosing around in the historical section. Granted, the books you picked up weren’t full of information you didn’t already know- but you still flipped through the pages standing in the empty isle regardless completely engrossed in the material.

After your skip around history, you made sure to replace all the books from where you got them (or the best you could remember) and moved to make your way out into the open space between sections. The library attendant's desk with a single employee sitting behind it with their nose in a book to pass by the shift was within sight of the wide open space. 

The day was slowly starting to wane and you sat yourself at an unoccupied table close to a window that showed the streets that were starting the transformation of throngs of people to freckles of bodies. You push your chin into your palm as you watch out the window mindlessly. You didn’t have a shift tonight that demanded your attendance and you felt restless. It was strange, normally you’d have no issues just spending a lazy day inside on the time you didn’t have plans or work. 

Now? Now you felt like any free moment you spent inside was wasted. You felt bad about it since you were leaving Taco alone, but you promised that you’d take your beloved cat out on more walks if this new behavior keeps up. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a harness and leash for walking, it was purely because finding the right time to take him out never worked in your favor. 

You blew air out your lips as you lay your head down on the table. Maybe it was the fact that you experienced a near-death experience and were recovering from it that made you not want to take time for granted. You cringed at your cliche thinking. 

You didn’t sit at the table long, grabbing your purse and making sure you didn’t leave anything behind before you left the library entirely- it was getting close to closing hours anyways. The last thing you needed was a staff member chasing you out. 

The sky bathed the concrete jungle that was the thinning streets a warm orange as you felt the simmering of heat stick uncomfortably to your skin and under yout clothes. The walk back home felt shorter than it was and when Taco didn’t come running to the sound of the opening and closing door, you felt confusion morph your face. Was he sleeping? Normally, he would be rushing to the door before you managed to slam it shut and lock it while he cried at his once again failure to bolt out the door. 

His escape artistry isn’t as honed as other alley cats and he had a hard time accepting that if it wasn’t obvious by the fits he throws. 

Toeing your shoes off, you stepped inside and as you got closer to your living room you could hear rattling. Rattling? You speed up your steps thinking your nosey cat had gotten into or broken something and was foolishly playing with the pieces, but when you come into the living room with the waning sunlight forcing your to turn on the house lights, you gasp at what you see. 

It was Taco, your beloved cat, yes, but he hadn’t knocked anything down or broken anything that your eye could see. Instead, he was sitting on his cat tower that sat by the large window of your living room you would normally decorate for holidays pawing at the glass as a large black bird sat opposite of him behind the pane. 

The bird, you couldn’t tell what kind from your shock and slight panic-blinded eyes, was sat perfectly still on the outside of the window, knocking its beak lightly against the glass every time Taco mewled or pawed. Its head turned and cocked when it noticed the light flick on and you swore you saw its dark eyes zero in on you before its wings spread out wide spooking Taco off of his tower and onto the floor where he made a less than gracious landing. 

Its wings flapped and then folded back in before tapping two more times on the window. You swallowed the lump in your throat before you slowly treaded up to the window. The bird's beak and eyes followed you, lifting higher to keep its sight on your face the closer you got before you were standing next to Taco’s tower. The black cat himself had seemingly forgotten about the mysterious bird and instead took purchase weaving between your ankles and rubbing his fur over you, soaking in your scent of outside. 

“Are you stuck,” you lightly ask the bird as if he could answer you. Maybe he had flown into your window by mistake- that happens sometimes in tall buildings right? Birds not telling the difference between open space and glass? But, when you looked at his taloned feet there was nothing constriction him and his body was free of anything binding him too, the evidence was in the way his wings would still occasional expand then fold again. It was like he was inviting you to do something. 

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t speak bird. 

You jumped when its beak opened and a sharp, quick nose came out. A muffled caw! catching you by surprise as you nearly tripped over Taco’s still-weaving body. Then, the bird’s beak came to tap at the metal frame where the lock was. 

Did it want inside? Could you really do that? Let some random bird inside your house after it’s been sitting outside your livingroom window for god knows how long just entertaining your cat while you were gone? 

All probability flew out the proverbial window when you, without thinking, unlatched the window and slid it open allowing the big blackbird to fly right in. You screamed, not in terror, but in more shock as it flew inside and the flap of its wings was louder than you were expecting. 

The bird flew a lap around your living room before coming around to you and landing on Taco’s tower beside your shoulder. It was staring at you at eye level now and you could finally identify the bird as a crow. You knew that crows were intelligent birds, but this was clearly a trained bird, not just some random bird who decided to make a nest in your home for no good reason. 

You flinched for the umptheeth time when the crow’s left wing expanded and exposed half of it’s body. You were fully expecting it to folded up again, but it didn’t. Then you noticed it, a small crimson thread tied around it’s leg with a small dark capsule attached to it. 

You relaxed your shoulders and chuckled. 

“What are you, a messenger pigeon?” You wondered if crows could get offended by the way they can remember faces and whatnot. “That was a joke,” you followed yourself just in case. “Is that for me?” You ask hesitantly and when the crow did not move or make any indication of disagreement, you slowly and as carefully as possible unscrewed the bottom of the capsule and a small rolled-up piece of paper slid out of it. The crow softly folded its wing back up once you screwed the bottom piece back on. 

The paper was thin and rolled expertly like a scroll. You walked over to the coffee table and knelt to unfold it to read. 

My apologies for sending word to you this way! It must have been quite the shock to find a crow hanging around your home, however, I have neglected to ask of any other means of connection to you in our few encounters! If appropriate, how many I contact you from here on out? -K.Rengoku

You re-read the well-written note- scroll? -about three times before you broke down into a fit of laughter, kicking your still-healing foot into the table leg and wincing as the dull throb brought you back to your mind. 

You looked over your shoulder at the crow still perched on the tower and used your hand to pat an empty space on your table. 

“Come down here,” you invite and the crow listened well. Fluttering down easily and its talons clacking satisfyingly on your wooden table. You curled your finger, letting the back of your knuckles run over the bird's feathers careful not to accidentally pluck one. “So, you’re Rengoku’s bir-er-crow?” You corrected yourself midword thinking that just calling the crow ‘bird’ would be a bit demeaning. A soft caw was your answer. 

You looked around your coffee table but found nothing close enough to resemble a piece of paper small enough like his to send on the crows return back. Flipping the tiny-scroll over you decided to just use the back side and the nearest pen you had laying around. 

I knew you were into history, but a messenger crow? Now that’s old school. Does he have a name? 

Beside your short messaged reply, you scribbled your number down in the best handwriting you could muster so there was no way the numbers could be confused with another number. You then tried rolling it back up as expecrtly as it was put in- and failed- before you ended up folding the paper into small enough rectangles it fit inside the capsule just as well as when it was rolled up. You then pet the crow one more time before you walked back toyour window and called for it to sit on the sill. 

“You fly back home safely, okay?” The sun had declared the last lights of dusk before the sky covered your section of the world in a dark blanket and the crow’s dark eyes shimmered in earnest before it cawed once more and took off like a friendly goodbye! to its newfound friend. 

You were practically giddy the rest of the night, skipping around and giving Taco an extra treat or two in your good mood. You couldn’t remember the last time you had this feeling in your stomach, butterflies. As you lay in bed you wonder why it was you were feeling those butterflies that took you back to your high school days with flings and crushes and unrealistic romantic daydreams that would make even the most Christmas-y Hallmark movie plot to shame. 

Followed by the intriguing thought of it was all because of the still semi-stranger man named Rengoku who taught history and also happened to kill demons, the feeling of being on some pranked tv show with hidden cameras felt less and less likely the more time passed. But still- it all sounded so unreal when you thought about it all. 

The next morning, after not remembering when you even fell asleep, you checked your phone to see you had an unread text from an unknown number. You smiled at it, not even bothering to shut off the alarm clock that had woken you up as you quickly saved the number into your contacts. 

(Rengoku) His name is Kaname!

-x-x-x-

a/n pt2) DID YOU MISS ME? I know after such a long wait it's a pretty slow boring chapter, but I think the soft pacing was a good ease back into things.

I dunno where the inspo to finish this chapter even came from, but you won't see me complaining. Lemme know what you guys thought, I know it's been a while since I updated much of anything really, so the feedback is critical!!! and ofc im always up for any ideas y'all could have for the future since we all know how touch and go I am with inspiration lol

if you dont tell me anything, you're fired

[jazlynriddle]

Welcome to your life - Pt 3:

It's My Own Design Ch 4:

Summary:

Ominis fought to control his expression, to keep his hands from trembling. Five years. Five years since he'd seen his parents, and this. This was the reason they'd given him the honour of their time? This was the reason they'd sought him out at Hogwarts?

The bitterness welling up within him was thick enough to gag on.

New year, new allies, new responsibilities, new avenues of revenue, and new aspects of their own Ancient Magic to explore. As the Keeper and their partners enter their last year at Hogwarts, it remains to be seen if the new school year will bring with it new problems or adversaries, but they are confident in the strength of their relationship with Sebastian and Ominis. The three of them would endure, no matter what befell them.

And if they were wrong?

What a joke, they would suffer no alternative.

Warnings: This chapter contains smut! BDSM-y smut! x3

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Explicit Consent! Very enthusiastic consent, and BDSM etiquette, spanking. Smut, blowjob, handjob and finger fellatio…ing.

Sadly, these kids don't have Internet access to a BDSM guidebook or any real idea what they're doing, so it'll take some clumsy fumbling, but they'll get there xD

Also, I've had a terrible 40hr long day, and an exhausting month so I'm going to take some painkillers and knock myself out for a day. Which means no last min edits for any mistakes that only reveal themselves after I hit the Post button. JOOOOY! So, have fun and enjoy the porn!

Oh and also, consent is sexy and stay safe peeps!

“Now, shall we find out if the two of you have been doing your meditation practices since our lesson last week?” Ominis flashed a teasing smile as the three settled comfortably on their cottage bed.

“Well, I have. And you, Sebastian?” The Keeper smirked as they turned to him.

Raising an eyebrow, Sebastian eyed them suspiciously. “I've done my homework, though I'm not sure I'm ready for whatever you've got planned.”

“I haven't the foggiest idea what you speak of.” The Keeper shook their head with an innocent smile, placing their elbow on their knee and resting their chin on their knuckles casually.

“Yeah, sure you don't.” Sebastian rolled his eyes before turning to Ominis. “So, what's the next step?”

“After meditating daily on the segregation of those memories, your subconscious mind should already be well into the process of placing memories in their allocated locations.” Ominis explained. “The next step is to keep your memories behind their defences without the visualisation of your mindscape.”

“Will they stay together?” The Keeper asked thoughtfully.

“Yes, the visualisation is just to train your subconscious to separate and categorise the memories.” Ominis nodded reassuringly. “After that, any visualisation only serves to aid intruders in finding the rooms.”

“So, we discard the visuals, so that the intruder doesn't find memories in the place they expect to, and then if they happen to venture into the correct location, they'll get ejected by pain.” Sebastian dropped his fist into his open palm with a gentle tap, his eyes wide with understanding. “Brilliant.”

“Exactly.” Ominis’ smile had a touch of pride to its upturn. “You'll need to fill the space, in the front of your mind, with memories and thoughts that distract the intruder, like before. The difficult part will be staying focused on that memory rather than letting the intruder realise that you've caught on that they're in your mind.”

“To give a false impression that there aren't Occlumency shields in place?” The Keeper chuckled, how very Ominis to teach them a method of making enemies underestimate them.

“Precisely. Which means that you'll need to practice shrouding your thoughts with a memory the very instant that you feel someone penetrate your mind.” Ominis nodded, his smile turning wry. “Sadly, I won't be able to help much with that, you and Sebastian will simply have to practice with each other.”

“That's alright, it's thanks to your guidance that we've even gotten this far.” The Keeper shook their head, it was a boon to have such a heavily regulated skill in their arsenal in the first place.

Ominis shook his head with a fond smile. “The two of you are easy to teach, it certainly helps.”

“Well, we can't be letting you down then, can we?” Sebastian grinned and turned to the Keeper. “Shall we?”

“Certainly, would you like me to cast first again?” The Keeper asked, a sly curl to their lips.

“And give you more time to prepare? I think not, I shall go first this time.” Sebastian proclaimed and drew his wand, rising to the challenge in their voice without hesitation.

Ominis sighed, how was Sebastian simultaneously the most intelligent and most stupid person he'd ever met?

“Ready?” Sebastian waited for their answering nod, before flicking his wand and diving into the Keeper's mind. “Legilimens.”

Unlike before, for a brief moment, he found himself in something more akin to a nebulous void, vague impressions of his lover's feelings wrapped around him, anticipation, excitement and curiosity. Before the space around him warped into the familiar path that led into the Undercroft.

He hummed, trying to extract himself from the memory, but it only sharpened with more persistence, hitting him with feelings of exhaustion, exasperation and a lingering disbelief that bled into him as he was dragged through the memory.

It was a rather bizarre feeling, when the Undercroft gates rose and he found himself staring at... himself, though he was flattered by the surge of affection that rippled through him in this moment, along with God, he's so hot, mine mine mine min-.

Which made him at once both amused and curious, so he scrutinised himself a little harder. Did his hair really look that soft? Were his shoulders really that broad and his stance that powerful? Somehow Sebastian felt like the person the Keeper was looking at wasn't quite the same person he saw in the mirror, or at least, that they were focusing on the more attractive aspects of himself and seemingly blind to the parts of his appearance that he didn't think were attractive.

He distantly noted the smell of smoke hanging in the air and he heard the Keeper's voice echo strangely in his body, before the memory of himself looked up.

Oh.

Sebastian was struck by a wave of apprehension, this time entirely his own, when he recognised the moment that this memory took place.

As he watched himself storm over, a strong sense of shock and confusion pulsed around him when the memory of Sebastian grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him against the wall, feeling fingers tighten around his throat. Oh Merlin, of all memories to show him, was his lover trying to get back at him for his shameful behaviour? Surely, they knew how much he regrets it already...

Though, he certainly didn't have time to speculate, as the sheer discomfort and just- weirdness of kissing himself promptly occupied his thoughts thoroughly. Well, at least he wasn't a bad kisser. Apparently. That was something, at least.

Well, never can deny my boys anything. Especially when he clearly needs it.

Sebastian found himself both bemused and flattered as the thought drifted through him. Now that he thought about it, they had indeed never refused a request, from him or Ominis at least. He would have been worried that they didn't know how to say no, if they weren't already flipping other people off on a regular basis.

Then he felt teeth sink into his lip, the sensation of his own body pressed against him, his airways closing and...

Pleasure.

It hit him like a lungful of smoke, so unbelievably strong. The Keeper's desire and ecstasy, a fire burning deliciously on his lips, his heart pounding in his ears. It was overwhelming, the elation and mind-numbing euphoria rippling through them, almost searing him with its intensity.

So powerfully, in fact, that Sebastian quickly found himself losing focus and tumbling from their mind. His breathing was heavy as he struggled to reorient himself. Fuck- When they'd insisted that they had actually enjoyed the experience, he could barely believe it, could hardly wrap his mind around the idea, but now... Merlin's beard, they actually had.

The vestiges of arousal that weren't his own, were quickly becoming so at the thought. And he'd thought he was horny. Lifting his head, Sebastian saw that heated arousal reflected in his lover's eyes, now understanding why they'd shown him this memory, not to shame him, but to reassure him.

To assure him that they'd truly, genuinely liked it, loved it in fact, that they wanted it to not be a one-time experienc- fuuuuck.

Sebastian couldn’t stop himself- didn't need to stop himself, an almost hysteric laugh bubbled in his chest- from diving across the large bed to push the Keeper onto their back, burying his face in their collar.

Burning, he was burning with desire.

“S- Sebastian!?” Ominis exclaimed in surprise at the sudden movement.

Sebastian groaned, nipping with his teeth against the Keeper's exposed neck, barely able to think enough to speak, his voice muffled around their skin. “Fuck, Omi, you won't believe how much they liked it-”

“Liked what!?” Ominis was starting to feel rather alarmed, especially at the sounds he was hearing. What in Merlin's name had they shown Sebastian!?

“...pain...” Sebastian breathed reverently, lifting himself just enough to see the Keeper's lust filled eyes, pressing his hardness against their thigh.

“Oh, for the love of-”

Sebastian abruptly found himself yanked backwards by his collar, tumbling off the bed onto the floor with a pained yelp. “Gah! What the hell-”

“Sebastian Sallow! You will not be inflicting any pain on our beloved until we have discussed it and set up boundaries! What if you go too far and cause permanent damage!? Or actually hurt them!?” Ominis scolded, towering over the two on his knees.

“What about hurting me-” Sebastian grumbled as he rubbed his bum where he'd landed.

“Alright there Sebastian?” The Keeper asked, sounding incredibly amused as they sat up to peer at him.

“And you!” Ominis spun around to face said beloved. “You shouldn't be riling him up like that before we've established rules!”

“In my defence, I didn't think he'd get that excited, and neither of you were bringing it up, so I saw an opportunity to make myself clear rather than try endlessly with mere words.” The Keeper shrugged. “Besides, I've survived far worse than anything either of you could do to me.”

Ominis brow twitched in irritation and his eyes narrowed, his hand shooting forward, with surprising speed and accuracy, to grip the Keeper's chin tightly between his thumb and forefinger. “I wouldn't be so sure of that.”

He paused, before adding. “And wipe that smile off your face.”

The Keeper struggled to suppress their wide grin as instructed, shivering at his dangerous tone.

“It's important that we know exactly what you want and like. Even if you can't imagine it, accidents can happen if we're not careful.” Ominis insisted, loosening his grip, and cupping their jaw gently, his brows creasing imploringly. “Imagine how we'd feel if we accidentally hurt you.”

The Keeper grimaced, hard to argue with that.

“Fine, I still think you're worrying too much, but very well.” They sat up properly, crossing their legs again with a sigh. “How's that going to go anyway? It's not like I know exactly what I like and can just give you a write-up.”

“By talking until we figure it out.” Ominis sat down as well, folding his arms stubbornly.

Sebastian carefully crawled back onto the bed, eyeing Ominis warily as he did. “Somehow, I wouldn’t wager that'd go very far, not like we're all that experienced with this. Maybe we could test different stuff slowly, one at a time?”

“Great idea.” The Keeper beamed at the suggestion. They'd been looking forward to the summer break, for a chance to explore further intimacy, for far too long to just sit around talking.

“Not right now. If Sebastian's this aroused, he might not be able to control himself.” Ominis shook his head disapprovingly, tilting his head towards Sebastian. “We should wait for you to settle down first.”

“Er, I hate to inform you, Ominis, but there's no way I could be anything but horny in this type of situation.” Sebastian snorted as he sat back down.

“Really.” Ominis deadpanned.

“I could take a look, if you're sceptical.” The Keeper chuckled as they drew their wand, not waiting for Ominis to reply before casting the spell on Sebastian. “Legilimens.”

Inside his mind was a storm of arousal, adoration, need, excitement, and eagerness to please, to perform well, tempered by a wave of grudging agreement with Ominis, and frustration. The sexual kind. The Keeper left his mind quickly after ascertaining the intensity and the nature of his desire for them, to a very reassuring extent.

There was perhaps a small, secret fear that they'd held, that Sebastian, or even Ominis, might see them as simply a powerful object of desire, as convenient. It wouldn't have changed their love for the boys, but they would have been... sad. And disappointed.

It was... comforting to know that that wasn't the case, for Sebastian at least, that they'd truly moved past a relationship of mutual exploitation and convenience. He seemed to genuinely want to please them, to make them feel good, purely for the sake of it.

The Keeper cleared their throat, as they returned to themselves, before quipping. “Yeap, that's not going away any time soon.”

Ominis sighed. “Fine, I suppose I can understand that, but we'll have to be very careful, and I expect you to try to control yourself, Sebastian.”

“Come on, Ominis, you could stand to have a little more faith in me.” Sebastian smiled wryly.

“Oh, don't worry, I have about as much faith in you as I do them.” Ominis made his statement with such a flat tone that no one could possibly mistake that for a compliment.

“Really?” Sebastian beamed, sounding so pleased that the Keeper almost snorted.

Ominis closed his eyes with another sigh. “I do think, however, that we'll need a fair amount of faith for this. Faith that you'll tell us if anything is too uncomfortable.”

He levelled an imperious gaze in the Keeper's general direction, and they smiled, it really was sweet how stubborn he was about this. “Of course.”

“Bit hard to do that, isn't it?” Sebastian hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should use some consistent means of evaluating each action?”

“We could use Legili-” The Keeper cut themselves off with a grimace. “No, that's stupid, please forget I spoke.”

“No, that's probably the safest option, at least with Sebastian.” Ominis smiled tightly. “I'm not so fragile as to require us to discard the best option when it's at least available to one of us.”

“We could use a number system then.” Sebastian suggested. “For Ominis.”

“Hm, not a bad idea, perhaps I might be able to gauge the intensity from your reactions as well, if you were to...” Ominis took the Keeper's hand and tugged them over to straddle his legs as he lowered himself to lie on his back. His cheeks were warm as he guided their hands to rest on his shoulders while pulling their head down to press their chin against his chest, so that their behind was raised in the air. “...hold me, like so.”

Sebastian swallowed as the Keeper's knees spread on either side of Ominis’ hips, forcing down the part of his brain that was sizzling as the Keeper's position presented him with a tantalising view of their pert bum.

“And we can start with something less dangerous.” Ominis continued, and the unexpectedly husky timbre of his voice by the Keeper's ear made them shiver, they wondered how hard he was. If he was, and they really wanted to check. “I imagine a spanking would be fairly safe.”

“Hm, no arguments here, and I think this feels pretty comfortable, though perhaps I should...” The Keeper lifted their head to press their lips against Ominis’ jaw, smirking when he shivered at the teasing touch, and murmured. “Remove some... obstructions.”

“I can help with that.” Sebastian blurted out before wincing at the eagerness of his own tone, rolling his eyes when his partners laughed quietly, smothering his embarrassment as he helped the Keeper remove their garments.

Setting the clothes aside, while they returned to their previous position, Sebastian tentatively ran his hand over the Keeper’s lower back, feeling the heat radiating from their body.

“I guess, I'll start light and you can tell me how painful it is?” Sebastian suggested. “One to ten is probably wide enough a range, right?”

The Keeper shrugged. “Sure, that works. We can go over the memory later, so you have an idea of where my pain scales compared with your own.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sebastian nodded. “I think I'll count down, so that it isn't too shocking.”

“Yeah, we can go with that, for now.” The Keeper purred, resting their forehead against Ominis’ collar, and gripping his shoulders loosely while he held their waist, perhaps to feel their muscles’ reactions.

Sebastian flashed a bemused smile at their response as he kneeled beside his lovers. “Ready?”

“Yes.” The Keeper answered, feeling a mix of anticipation and some embarrassment, perhaps at how excited they were.

“Five.”

Honestly, it felt so strange, even to themselves, knowing that pain was coming but not avoiding it.

“Four.”

Not fearing it.

“Three.”

Not fighting it.

“Two.”

Not wanting to fight it.

“One.”

The slap was...

Underwhelming.

The Keeper snorted lightly at the- honestly, the word ‘tap’ would be a more appropriate descriptor.

“That's definitely a zero.” The Keeper turned around to raise an eyebrow at Sebastian.

“Hey, I'm just starting low alright?” He shrugged, waving a hand flippantly. “Safety and all that.”

“And that's good.” Ominis lifted a hand to press against the back of the Keeper's neck, pulling their head back down to rest against his chest again.

The Keeper rolled their eyes but didn't struggle against the firm grip around the base of their skull, it was pretty... nice. Oddly reassuring?

Filling their lungs with the pleasantly minty scent of Ominis’ bathing oils, the Keeper sighed and muttered exasperatedly. “Carry on then.”

Sebastian gave an amused huff at their demanding tone and began counting once more.

The next hit made a bit louder of a sound and had the accompanying impact of applause, but still didn't result in much pain.

“Two.”

The one after had a little bit more bite to it, but the Keeper was starting to get a tad impatient at the slight increment, shooting Sebastian a challenging glare. “Two and a half maybe. Come on, Sebastian, I barely felt anything. Surely you can do better.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything in reply, Ominis’ hand left the Keeper's waist and came down on their thigh with a sharp smack.

At the unexpected jolt of pain and loud sound, a startled squeak caught in their throat. Their hands clenched around Ominis’ shoulders as he glared sharply in reprimand. “No riling Sebastian up.”

The Keeper shuddered, a heated breath slipping through their parted lips at his firm tone and the lingering sting on their thigh.

“And that was?” Sebastian asked as he leaned to the side, peering at the Keeper’s flushed face with an amused grin.

“Fi- four.” The Keeper murmured, trying to savour the little shot of adrenaline they’d just gotten from the quickly fading sensation. Though they weren't quite sure if they were more aroused by the pain or the shock or Ominis’ tone or words. Or perhaps it was all of them in combination? A question to ponder upon, they supposed.

“Damn, Omi. I'm impressed.” Sebastian snickered. “And someone said I have no self-control."

Ominis promptly smacked him on the thigh too.

“Hey! Wrong target!” Sebastian complained, pressing a hand against his stinging thigh sourly.

Ominis rubbed his forehead tiredly, a breath hissing through his clenched teeth.

“Not fair, I want another one too.” The Keeper purred, parting their lips to drag their tongue up along the tempting pale skin of his neck, feeling his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Maybe later... if you behave.” Ominis replied, his voice deep and with a dry rasp, as well as a slightly hesitant tremble to it that belied his attempt to sound confident and authoritative.

A sharp grin spread across the Keeper's face, he was getting there. They lowered their forehead back down to Ominis’ collarbone, peering up at Sebastian from the corner of their eye teasingly. “Well, think you can match that, Seb?”

Sebastian snorted and without warning, he brought his palm down on their bum once more.

That got another small, startled sound, but not quite as strong of an adrenaline jolt, the Keeper noticed curiously, despite the pain being about the same intensity. Would it happen again if the pain increased further?

“Was that the same?” Sebastian asked, rubbing his palm against the warming skin.

“Yeah, four as well.” The Keeper nodded, their anticipation returning with a vengeance. “Keep going, I can take more.”

“I'll take it that no counting is better?” Sebastian checked.

“Yeah, I think so.” The Keeper closed their eye and nuzzled their nose against the soft fabric of Ominis’ sleeping wear.

“Alright.” Sebastian grinned, quite eager to see if he could one-up Ominis’ results.

Taking a breath, Sebastian drew his hand back further for another slap. This one landed with more sound than impact and he hummed curiously. “How much was that one?”

“Still four.” The Keeper replied.

So, distance increased the sound but not the impact. Sebastian nodded to himself. “Alright, I'll try this instead then.”

This time, Sebastian positioned himself at a slight angle, raising his hand to the same height but using more strength. When his slap connected, the Keeper felt themselves pushed forward slightly by the impact, a soft but high sound squeezing from their throat at the biting sensation.

“How was that?” Sebastian asked, admiring the palm shaped flush blooming on the round curve of their bottom.

“Fi...ve, probably.” The Keeper breathed, shifting their knees, feeling the itch to rub themselves against Ominis but settling for pressing their face against his throat again. Yeap, the adrenaline was back.

“Still want it higher?” Sebastian adjusted his position again, deciding to give the other cheek some attention.

“Of course.” The Keeper scoffed, trembling slightly from the anticipation, the sting was lingering longer this time, and it was exhilarating somehow. Knowing that an even sharper pain was coming and not knowing when it would be, when they should be braced for-

The slap on the yet untouched side of their arse caught the Keeper off guard and a surprised moan left their lips. “Fuc-”

The burn was spreading up their back and down their legs like a splash of hot water, stinging as it did, and making their muscles spasm. For a split second, they were back in that dark, dirty, disgusting room, trembling in fear on the cold, rancid floor, their skin caked with a mixture of ash and drying blood, their lungs filled with tobacco smoke, their ears ringing with scathing voices and the sound of crying. Waiting, waiting for Matron's next blow, when a gentle voice cut through their disorientation.

“Love, was that too much?” Ominis’ warm hand was cupping their cheek and brushing away a tear with his thumb.

Ah. The Keeper felt a strange feeling overtake them, the contrast between the painful memories and the softness and love in his tone, the feeling of Sebastian's hand soothing the inflamed and stinging skin he'd struck. New associations mingling with old ones in a slurry that was scrambling their insides. It was heady, not unlike the satisfaction they'd get when grinding a shrunken spider under their heel. When slamming an Ashwinder into the ground and hearing the crunch of their bones breaking.

That rush of power, the assurance that they were no longer that weak vulnerable child, that they now had the upper hand, had the strength to overpower others. And now... the knowledge that this was for them, the pain they were feeling was theirs, theirs to control. That they had power over Sebastian and Ominis right now, that if they said they were done, the boys would stop.

Again. They wanted more, the disorienting high was already beginning to fade, and they wanted more of it.

“Maybe we should sto-” Ominis began worriedly.

“No, more.” The Keeper shook their head drunkenly, tilting their face to the side to take Ominis’ fingers into their mouth without much thought. Curling their tongue around his index and middle fingers, pulling them into their mouth and suckling on them.

Ominis choked on his next breath, the wet sound of their saliva and that moist heat around his sensitive digits made his brain grind to a halt and immediately begin melting. Struggling to think through the sheer arousal throbbing through his body as he felt the soft muscle slide into the space between his fingers to lap at the sensitive webbing of his palm.

“Num- number.” Shivering at the sensation, Ominis cleared his dry throat. “What number was that?”

The Keeper groaned around the slender, elegant fingers that they were worshipping, revelling in the tremble in his voice, they'd put that there. Lost in their victory, it took them a moment before they could process the question and they slurped the excess saliva before relinquishing those long fingers momentarily to answer.

“S- six. Maybe, or... or seven.” The Keeper murmured in a daze, before following that up with the more important message they needed to convey. “More, Seb.”

Sebastian, who had frozen up completely for fear that he'd gone too far, the word ‘no’ terrifying him for a split second, before he'd quickly sagged in relief when he realised it was a plea for more. He chuckled wryly. They really were a lot hornier than he'd given them credit for.

Not that he was complaining. Though, while he was tempted to just give them what they were asking for, the shock of fear that’d hit him seemed to have cleared his mind somewhat, and there was a small voice in his head, that sounded suspiciously like Ominis, telling him that they should probably figure out some better way of doing this to prevent himself, or Ominis, from going overboard with the Keeper. Some sort of quick and clear signal or something like that.

He looked at Ominis, whose fingers were back in the Keeper's mouth and being enthusiastically felatioed once more. Quickly, he determined from the blond's flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, that his brain had likely taken a hike too. Which meant that Sebastian was currently the most responsible person in the room.

That was probably not a good sign.

“Um, I think we probably shouldn't-” Sebastian began, flinching slightly at the glare the Keeper shot him from the corner of their eye. He took a breath, no no no, this was too important, he wasn't going to fuck up again, he had to stand his ground here. “I think we should probably... talk before going any further.”

His words seemed to snap Ominis out of it some, and the blond shook his head. “Yes, he- Sebastian's correct. We shouldn't-”

The Keeper growled, letting the fingers slip from their mouth again. “It's fine, I can take it. Just-”

“No. None of us are in the condition to continue nor discuss-” Ominis shook his head stubbornly, trying to sit up and the Keeper groaned in frustration. They just wanted- bloody worrywarts, arrrrrgh, fine.

“Fine.” The Keeper grumbled, shoving Ominis back down onto the bed and shimmying down to straddle his calves.

Before either boy could do more than make confused sounds, the Keeper's left hand had shot out to grab the loose hem of Sebastian's pyjama pants and pulled it down, along with his undergarments. Proceeding then to swiftly do the same to Ominis’, and in less than a minute, the Keeper was taking Ominis’ length into their mouth while wrapping their fingers around Sebastian's as well.

“Wai-” Ominis gasped, clenching his fists in the blanket, as his neglected hardness was abruptly engulfed in the delicious warmth that his still tingling fingers had been in a moment ago. A choked moan left his lips, bloody hell this little- “You-”

“If we need clear heads, let's get there so we can get back to the spanking.” The Keeper lifted their head to explain, before taking Ominis into their mouth again, dragging their tongue along his glans to ensure that he lost his words once more and couldn’t protest.

Sebastian’s laugh was cut off by a deep groan when they thumbed at his tip, yeah, that did make sense. Merlin's balls, he'd forgotten how good their lover was at sex. How in Salazar's name were they even able to pay attention to the two boys at the same time so wel- Sebastian caught the thought before it finished, the answer wasn't exactly a mystery, and he didn't want to think about that right now. That was a sure-fire way to go soft real quick.

Fortunately, the light scratch of their nail along the sensitive flesh of his crown was doing an excellent job of catching his attention, though Sebastian wasn't entirely sure what to do with his hands now. At least for a split second, until Ominis let out a shaky moan when the Keeper tongued his slit, and Sebastian looked over at him.

Ah. Sebastian shivered at the sight of Ominis lying on the blanket, his blond hair splayed over the cloth like a halo, his nightshirt rumpled, with his midriff peeking out under the fabric, a fist clenched in the bedding and the other arm draped over his eyes, as though to hide his expression. Oh no you don't.

Placing a hand on the Keeper's, so they wouldn't accidentally pull on his dick painfully at the movement, Sebastian shuffled over to kneel beside Ominis, bracing a hand on the bed and pulling the blond's arm aside.

“Seb-” Ominis murmured, taking a trembling breath through his parted lips and Sebastian needed no further invitation.

Dipping his head, Sebastian captured those plush lips, feeling Ominis’ clever tongue curl around his own as the Keeper adjusted their grip on Sebastian and continued their ministrations, each stroke making his breath catch as pleasure danced along his spine.

Compelled by the need to touch, Sebastian slipped his hand under Ominis’ shirt, his heart pounding at the silky and soft skin against his calloused fingers. While the blond's elegant fingers threaded into his brown locks and tightened in his hair, dragging a deep groan from Sebastian's throat as the ache on his scalp slithered down his spine.

A small huff of amusement escaped Sebastian when he felt Ominis’ other hand slide up under his shirt as well, leaving a trail of fire along his abdomen, naturally, the sneaky twerp immediately went for his weak spot. Rubbing the warm pad of his thumb against Sebastian’s nipple and sending pulses of heat throbbing through his chest and down past his heart to tighten the coil of lust between his hips.

Slipping a groan between Ominis’ lips, Sebastian slid his palm down the blond's chest, retaliating by squeezing the soft flesh lightly on his way, before dipping his middle finger into the indentation of Ominis’ navel, delighted when Ominis’ fingers faltered in their assault. Circling the dip with his finger curiously, Sebastian scratched lightly at the sensitive epicentre where Ominis’ skin folded inwards into his body.

To his surprise, Ominis made a muffled moan against his mouth, clutching at Sebastian's arms, inhaling sharply, and tensing up, before sagging against the bed and parting his lips from Sebastian's to pant and gasp for air.

Ah, he's so beautiful. Sebastian felt himself throb with desire at the dishevelled state of his blind lover, he'd never tire of the sight of those half-lidded glassy eyes and that fair skin of his flushed red with ecstasy as he basked in the afterglow.

“Your turn.” The Keeper's voice drew his attention and Sebastian felt his throat go dry when he met their heated gaze, watching as they dragged their tongue along the softening flesh slipping from their lips, making Ominis’ breath catch from overstimulation.

Sebastian grinned when the Keeper straightened, before wrapping their freed hand in his shirt and pulling him towards them, while he tilted his head to the side willingly and parted his lips in invitation. Their lips met and Sebastian groaned into their mouth when the Keeper's tongue slipped into his, tasting Ominis’ seed as they danced with him while his hand cupped their jaw and the other wandered over their thigh.

The feverish heat of their skin, the firm muscles flexing under his palm and the sensation of their fingers slipping under his shirt to torment his reddened nipples again. He couldn’t begin to tell where his love began, and lust ended.

He distantly heard Ominis sitting up, and gasped when the Keeper's grip on his erection tightened. Opening his eyes slightly to see what had garnered that reaction, Sebastian felt his arousal spike at the sight of Ominis lapping at the Keeper’s nipple, while his fingers stroked the arousal between their spread knees, before closing his lips around the soft bud and suckling.

The Keeper released an absolutely delicious sound, as their head fell back, separating their lips, and Sebastian felt his hunger intensify. Unable to resist the opening, he leaned forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to their bared throat, sucking the flesh into his mouth and lightly gnawing on soft skin.

Under assault from both sides, the Keeper's movements along his length faltered, and Sebastian moved his hand from their thigh to cover their hand with his own. Holding their hand in place, he began thrusting with his hips into their grip instead, allowing them to freely enjoy the attention they were receiving from the two boys.

A groan of relief escaped his lips as Sebastian rutted eagerly into the soft heat around him, his ears throbbing with the wet sounds of Ominis’ suckling, the feeling of the Keeper's body trembling, desperate gasps squeezing past their throat, fluttering against his lips, their heartbeat against his tongue. The slick fluid oozing from his tip smeared along the Keeper's palm, creating a tantalising and sticky warmth for him to thrust into.

With how aroused Sebastian had been this whole time, he wasn't surprised when his climax began to peak aggressively. His breath caught as a muffled moan escaped around the bite of flesh that his teeth were clamped over as he came in their grip, spurting his spend against the Keeper's thigh. Pumping his hips a few more times to savour that sweet release, he finally released his mouthful to take a large gulp of air as he softened in their hand.

Almost on instinct, he lifted the Keeper’s hand to his lips and began to lap at the seed that had soiled it, cleaning their fingers with his tongue. He felt them shudder as he took their fingers into his mouth, before the Keeper pressed two of their fingers down on his tongue, pushing them past and deeper, wandering into his throat. Brain too fogged over to question it, Sebastian simply relaxed his jaw and tried not to gag, allowing them to do whatever they wished.

He had no idea how that looked or felt to the Keeper, but whatever it was, it was apparently good. Good enough for them to cum against Ominis’ hand with a moan and Sebastian sucked on their fingers as they withdrew from his mouth.

Releasing the Keeper's swollen nipple from his lips with a wet pop, Ominis gave a sigh, wrapping his arms around their waist and resting his cheek against their chest. “You'll be the death of me.”

“You're the one insisting on having a clear head.” The Keeper chuckled breathlessly, and Sebastian distantly noticed a series of bite marks on their chest as he dropped backwards to lie on his back with a contented sigh. Merlin, how'd he miss Ominis leaving those?

“Right, like you weren't equally as eager.” Ominis gave an exasperated huff. “I'm starting to think you just like having my... well, in your mouth.”

“And if I do?” The Keeper purred teasingly, trailing a damp finger along Ominis’ jaw.

“Then we can talk about that another time.” Ominis shook his head exasperatedly, otherwise they might end up in a round two instead of talking. Picking his wand up from where he'd dropped it on the bed, he gave it a swish to vanish any fluids away before they dirtied the bed. Salazar save him, his partners were so horny.

Rolling their eyes, the Keeper stretched lightly before easing themselves onto the bed to lie down beside Sebastian, on their front, curiously aware of the skin of their bum stretching as they did so. They were admittedly feeling a little tired, perhaps their exertion with Macnair this afternoon was catching up to them.

The Keeper hummed contentedly as Ominis followed them, lying on his side and pressing a kiss to their shoulder, tentatively rubbing at their tender bottom, his warm hand soothing against their skin as they asked. “So, what did we need to talk about?”

“Er.” Sebastian began, his brain still sluggishly trying to start up again while still swimming in the afterglow of orgasm. “Right.”

Propping themselves up on their elbows, the Keeper gazed at his dazed expression with affection. Cute.

Skin prickling under their attention and palpable bemusement, Sebastian mentally backtracked for a moment. “Ah, that's right. You said, ‘no more’.”

The Keeper frowned. “I what!? When?”

“When I suggested that we should stop.” Ominis answered instead, eyes narrowing in concern.

“Oh, come on, I meant ‘no, I want more’.” The Keeper groaned, planting their face into the blanket.

“Yeah, no, I did get that, it just took a moment.” Sebastian shook his head, rushing to clarify. “So, I kind of felt like it might be good to have- well, some sort of signal? I don't know, a quick and easy way to check each other's, okay...ness.”

“That's... actually quite brilliant.” Ominis smiled, admiration plain in his voice, and Sebastian felt his chest swell with pride.

“A signal... code words in essence, I suppose.” The Keeper’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “One for ‘stop’, and one for ‘continue’?”

Sebastian nodded while Ominis added. “And one more for ‘slow down’ would probably be good too. In case one of us needs a moment or has something to say.”

The Keeper nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that'd be good. So, we have three signals that we need words for.”

“It should probably be something easy to remember, but unlikely for us to randomly need to use...” Ominis murmured distantly.

A few moments of silence passed, before Sebastian suggested. “How about colours?”

“That could work. We're not likely to speak of colours, I should think.” Ominis smiled wryly. “Unless either of you are describing this one's arse.”

The Keeper squeaked in surprise when he pinched the skin of their bum, their face going red when Sebastian burst into laughter, barely getting the words out between his gasps for air. “Great, red for ‘stop’ then.”

“Ugh, then I vote green for ‘continue’, since all we'd need is a wiggenweld to get rid of any red.” The Keeper grumbled, grabbing Ominis by the nape and wiping the smirk from his lips with their own.

“Guess that just leaves ‘slow down’.” Sebastian grinned as the Keeper conquered the blond's mouth, drawing sounds from Ominis that made Sebastian's softened length perk up again in interest.

Ominis’ breath was heated as the Keeper withdrew their assault ever so slightly to speak, while he gasped for oxygen. “What does red and green make when mixed?”

“Yellow?” Sebastian frowned.

“It's brown.” Ominis huffed against the Keeper's lips, swallowing thickly before continuing in a dry tone. “Why is my colour theory the best here? I'm blind.”

“I think I prefer yellow.” The Keeper purred, bumping noses affectionately with Ominis. “Yellow... like a fading bruise. You'll leave some on my skin, won't you love?”

Shivering at their words, Ominis’ brain flooded with heat at the thought of leaving bruises on the Keeper, the idea of them desiring it, desiring him, getting off on placing themselves at his mercy, on trusting their body to him, utterly. “You unbelievable minx...”

Sebastian lay on his side, his head propped up on a hand, leisurely watching as Ominis grabbed the Keeper by the wrists, pinning them on the bed and leaning down to nip at their jaw as he loomed over them, his hair completely dishevelled and not seeming to care much on this occasion.

Scoffing at the Keeper’s gloating giggles, Sebastian shook his head. “And you guys say I'm the horny one.”

Notes:

Hopefully, I've illustrated how easy misunderstandings can occur and the importance of safe words xD

I would say that the three of them should have discussed more details and done some research, still their excuse is; flying blind without the Internet in a time where you can't exactly find a BDSM book in the library, BUT unlike them, we in the real world have no excuse for being under-researched or ignorant of BDSM guidelines and etiquette!

So, do your research! Fanfics are not a BDSM rulebook, but if you're interested in BDSM and are unsure where to start, feel free to ask in the comments and I'll direct you to good places to begin research! (Also, I'm realising now, that the Keeper totally has an oral fixation-)

Since everyone's voice sounds different to themselves compared to how they sound to others due to the reverb in our bones, it would stand to reason that the Keeper's voice would sound strange to Sebastian in their memory, coming from the inside of their own body. In all honesty I don't remember how memories were written in Harry Potter and can't be bothered to reread, so here's my interpretation and I don't know how accurate it is, but it made sense in my brain.

There's also a thing, in my opinion, that when you love someone, they become more beautiful than the most objectively or societally ‘beautiful’ person on the planet. Everything that makes them ‘them’ becomes beautiful or adorable. My partner is fucking gorgeous, fight me. Sebastian, I think, is the type who would agree, people worthy of respect are hot. Big demisexual pansexual energy there, same for the Keeper.

I feel like I'm writing Sebastian as a bit of a service... person, not necessarily dom or sub, maybe service sub? In all honesty human beings are a little more complex than top or bottom, you know? Especially since subs actually have a lot more power in BDSM than doms so. Us doms just get the illusion of being in control x') I just see Sebastian as the kind of guy who likes to please when he's very attached to someone, likes praise, very competitive (maybe a little from having a twin?) and all that. Neglected kid etc.

The Keeper's also very much a brat with Ominis xP I think it's because they trust their boys more and so the Keeper has been more relaxed, more willing to prod and get playful. Very much a powerplay kink there. Ominis, on the other hand, strikes me as both a controlling dom and a bit of a princess sub.

Also, a small, teeny, tiny detail that might have been missed, Sebastian has reached a point of emotional recovery where he's actually able to engage in sexual activities in the Feldcroft cottage, unlike before, where the traumatic memories were too overwhelming.

Admittedly it's a little on the fast side. In reality overcoming mental-emotional associations with locations could take anywhere from a year to a lifetime, but it's fiction and fiction tends to be extreme or exaggerated, so sue me xP

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC F/AotW - Feb 25 - Mar 3, 2023

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨 = Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA |🔹Submitted by creator

BLADES OF LIGHT & SHADOW

The Best Crew 🎨| Multiple Characters by @artoile (C: @storyofmychoices)

Best Crew in the Whole Damn Realm🎨| Multiple Characters by @garlickk

Nia Ellarious x MC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈 by @gaiuskamilah

Orc Meets Girl ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| F!Orc!MC & F!Human!MC - @noesapphic

Pancake Mornings 🎨🔹| Mal Volari x F!elf!MC - @/artbyainna (IG) (C: @dutifullynuttywitch)

Until the Stars Fall From the Sky ✒️🔹| Tyril Starfury x F!human!MC - @thosehallowedhalls

BLOODBOUND

Hide Me In Thy Wounds ✒️| Gauis Augustine x F!MC - @gaiuskamilah

Kamilah Sayeed x F!MC Fanart 🎨🏳️‍🌈🔹by @vampirkit

CRIMES OF PASSION

An Interlude of Grief ✒️🔹| m!Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @thosehallowedhalls

THE CURSED HEART

Leaf Fanart 🎨by @artbyalz

DESIRE AND DECORUM

Threads of Gold ✒️🎨🔹| Ernest Sinclaire x F!MC - art by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd fic by @noesapphic

DISTANT SHORES

Distant Shores: An Alternate Path - Part 3 ✒️🔹| Charlie Smith x M!MC - @korgbelmont

THE ELEMENTALISTS

Surprise Selfie! 🎨🏳️‍🌈| Beckett Harrington x MC - @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

ENDLESS SUMMER

Grandchildren: Beatriz ✒️🎨🏳️‍🌈| Estela Montoya x F!MC - @marmolady

HIGH SCHOOL STORY

Count the Red Roses ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| Michael Harrison x NB!MC - @aallotarenunelma

IMMORTAL DESIRES

Cas Harlow x OC Fanart 🎨by @sadxlee

IT LIVES WITHIN

Rowan Burke 🎨| ILW MC by @bunmellos (C: @abelflints)

LAWS OF ATTRACTION

Watcha Doing Down There?🎨🏳️‍🌈 | NB!MC, OC - @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

Wind: Goldenrod (NB!MC)🎨🏳️‍🌈by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

Windverse Art 🎨🏳️‍🌈 | NB!MC, OCs by @cammarada (C: @oh-so-youre-a-nerd)

MOTHER OF THE YEAR

Eiko Matsunaga Fanart 🎨by @artbyalz

NIGHTBOUND

Fantastic Beasts ✒️🔹| Nik Rycer x F!MC - @ladylamrian

OPEN HEART

Open Heart F/AotW List - Week ending March 2, 2024

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

Fruit of Her Loins ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys - @littleredroseonthevalley

Midnights Like This (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔥🔹| Leo Rys x F!OC, Liam Rys x F!MC - @queenrileyrose Part 15: Hold Me Tight

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch1: Once Upon a Time (Pt. 1) ✒️ | Multiple Characters - @fadingreveries

Secrets Behind Their Eyes Ch. 1 & 2✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys, Drake Walker, Maxwell Beaumont - @fancy--marshmallow

Secrets Behind Their Eyes Ch. 3 ✒️| Liam Rys, Drake Walker, Maxwell Beaumont - @fancy--marshmallow

[bamdelune]

In Hindsight 📹 Ch. 04: "the day i died once pt. 1"

notes. please do me a favor and pretend the first slide is actually edited to be posted as a twitter circle tweet 🙏

A familiar pattern of knocks echoed throughout the room. Your head turned to the door in confusion, Baizhu wasn't supposed to be coming in here today. He only came by on weekends.

The door slides open with the rolling sound of the gear to reveal the doctor and what looked like to be Kunikuzushi behind him. The general aura of the mood Baizhu entered the room with was eerily heavy as if someone just died.

"Good afternoon, Y/N." He greets, his tone slightly awkward. You return his greeting and say your hello to Kunikuzushi as well, to which he nods at in acknowledgement.

"Doctor Baizhu, is something the matter? You don't usually come in here on a weekday like this." You ask, nervously fiddling with your fingers. A sense of dread was pushing against your stomach and spread throughout your body.

Baizhu clears his throat, "I'm afraid there's something that needs to be discussed that prompted my visit."

Kunikuzushi has now also turned his attention towards the physician, eyes curious as well. Baizhu takes a deep breath, "I don't wish to scare you but it's inevitable. I fear that your condition has worsened. Ergo, you don't have much left, dear."

Silence fills the room, save for the whirring of the air conditioner. Other than that, you might as well have heard a pin drop. The tension was far too thick for your liking, anyone could cut through it with a knife.

"What?"

That's why Baizhu looked mournful when he came in. He was mourning a dead man walking.

"How much do I have left." Your tone comes out more strained that intended, as if your voice was about to crack.

"11 months. Even then, you're pushing it."

That wasn't so bad, right? You just wouldn't be there to see your album, the one that you've waited so long to start on, in all its glory after the production process. You wouldn't be alive to celebrate it with Xinyan, Aether, and Lumine.

notes. and we're finally at turning point #1 of this au! things will get easier to lay out from here and i hope everyone enjoys what's to come <;3

synopsis. You are a singer-songwriter. Music has always been a part of you, it's a part of your identity that no one can ever take away. However, there's always a catch: you are diagnosed with a chronic illness that puts your life on a timer. Those who have heard your countless melodies have grown to notice that the notes on the sheet played a gloomier tune. Would the snarky and capable medical student you've met be able to bring life back into these melodies? Even as life begins to seep out of your own body? (scaramouche x gn!reader)

tags. gender-neutral reader, angst, fluff, crack, heavy contexts of death and illnesses, friends to lovers, slowburn, profanities, drinking (characters are in college), suggestive themes but no nsfw.

taglist. (open, reply or send an ask to be added) — @beriiov @alatusorrow @br0oke96 @ohmyfinggod @itzblazekun @featuredtofu @sketcheeee

masterpost ★ masterlist © bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, January 12th - Monday, January 13th

BUFFY: Well, I may not sleep in the nude and rassle alligators... FAITH: Maybe it's time you started, 'cause obviously *something* in your bottle needs uncorking.

~~Faith, Hope & Trick~~

The Sunnydale Herald is looking for a new editor. Contributing to the Herald is a great way to get your Buffy on! Find out more.

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Blood and Stone by AirSteps (Buffy/Faith, not rated)

You Are In Love by Cumultus9 (Buffy/Faith, G)

A night to remember by Fanlifemiracle (Xander/Oz, Explicit)

[Chaptered Fiction]

From Out of the Darkness 2/9 by forsaken2003 (Xander/Spike, R)

The Christabel Chronicles - parts 2-6 by Nymue (Buffy/Spike/Angelus, Scoobies, not rated)

The Nexus Saga - parts 2-5 by TrentMckay (Buffy, Spike, M)

Fine Wines and High Steaks - Chapter 1 by QuillBard (Buffy/Faith, M)

A Sense of Self Preservation - Chapter 1-2 by whoser88 (Buffy/Giles, G)

Dim the Glow - Chapter 1 by arcanedreamer (Devil May Cry crossover, Xander, T)

Restructuring Reality [Series Part 3] Ch. 1 by Ragini (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

How to Be a Heartbreaker, Ch. 1-3 by Maxine Eden (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Drawings: "Real love isn’t brains, children. It’s blood..." by bertolts (Spike, worksafe)

Drawing: feral for them being feral for each other 🔥⛓️‍💥 by chelseabeecreates (Buffy/Faith, NSFW)

Gifset: Spuffy + TV Love Tropes (pt. II) by clarkgriffon (Buffy/Spike, possibly NSFW)

Vidlet: a Fuffy edit to Hozier’s cover of Do I Wanna Know by strangewerewolf (Buffy/Faith)

A 3D painted backdrop for a trio of BtVS figures based on 3.09 "The Wish" by thegothicalice (worksafe)

Digital artwork: Once More With Feeling by augustbrown18 (Buffy/Spike, worksafe)

Artwork by flyora based on elysianholly's fic Seven (Buffy/Spike, worksafe)

Vid: Until I found her by White Phoenix (Angel/Cordelia)

[Reviews & Recaps]

Just rewatched What’s My Line part 2 by targaryenvampireslayer

Re: Is the Fray comic worth reading? by multiple people

One of the show's strengths was that it could add great supporting characters later on... by Virtual-Signature789

The Trio (S6) were the best villains on the show. by Virtual-Signature789

Ranking the Seasons (For funsies) by PelvicSorcery2113

ANGEL 1.14 - I've Got You Under My Skin by Buffy the Vampire Straya

ANGEL 1.15 - The Prodigal by Buffy the Vampire Straya

Salvage (Buffy and the Art of Story Podcast) - Lisa Lilly

[Recs & In Search Of]

Elysian Fields Spuffy Fanworks Archive — Check out our new Featured Works!

[Community Announcements]

Spotlight Saturday: Angel/Darla (announcement, meta and rec list) by februaryfangfest

Spotlight Saturday: Spike/Drusilla (announcement, meta and rec list) by februaryfangfest

There are BtVS podfic requests on Purimgifts

Welcome to the Buffyverse Rarefemslash Bracket!

In Every Generation... | Buffy the Vampire Slayer Watch Party every Sunday morning on Twitch

[Fandom Discussions]

Fannish 50 — #2: Favorite Friendships (Joyce Summers & Spike) by veronyxk84

Re: what if... episode with random demon shenanigans that make buffy a vampire for a day and spike human for a day by lesbianmarrow

Re: seeing red is awful... by lesbianmarrow

hello, it is me, the problematic 2000

Can't stop thinking about how in Helpless... by acorpsecalledcorva

VA & BtVS [Vampire Academy parallels] by earlgreyandanime

the way i've been writing angel/spike in my shippier fics by fangs-light-forgiveness-au

The way Spike’s character arc in Buffy the Vampire Slayer is shown through the ‘you’re beneath me’ plot point by pearlofthewoods

What pairings would make the prettiest babies? by FallenAngel00 and others

Why did Jasmine want Angelus? by VanityInk

Light Wesley >>> Dark Wesley by Zombie_Giles

The weight of the world. by Syn_33

Spike...the man, the monster, the mystery. by Virtual-Signature789

I’ve watched Buffy 3 x through and each time have had a different take away about what it means to be Buffy by rielluv

Most new programs are now only 6 to 10 episodes per season. Can you put together a list of about that many, to make a season of Buffy still work? by V48runner and others

What do you think is the most iconic shot for each character? hosted by nefariousbluebird

Did Willow lose her computer skills over time? by Walton246

Big Bad Battle Royale - Round 2 by DapperDunedain and others

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Contents: Top 0–9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

# 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

A Aa Ab Ac Ad Ae Af Ag Ah Ai Aj Ak Al Am An Ao Ap Aq Ar As At Au Av Aw Ax Ay Az

B Ba Bb Bc Bd Be Bf Bg Bh Bi Bj Bk Bl Bm Bn Bo Bp Bq Br Bs Bt Bu Bv Bw Bx By Bz

C Ca Cb Cc Cd Ce Cf Cg Ch Ci Cj Ck Cl Cm Cn Co Cp Cq Cr Cs Ct Cu Cv Cw Cx Cy Cz

D Da Db Dc Dd De Df Dg Dh Di Dj Dk Dl Dm Dn Do Dp Dq Dr Ds Dt Du Dv Dw Dx Dy Dz

E Ea Eb Ec Ed Ee Ef Eg Eh Ei Ej Ek El Em En Eo Ep Eq Er Es Et Eu Ev Ew Ex Ey Ez

F Fa Fb Fc Fd Fe Ff Fg Fh Fi Fj Fk Fl Fm Fn Fo Fp Fq Fr Fs Ft Fu Fv Fw Fx Fy Fz

G Ga Gb Gc Gd Ge Gf Gg Gh Gi Gj Gk Gl Gm Gn Go Gp Gq Gr Gs Gt Gu Gv Gw Gx Gy Gz

H Ha Hb Hc Hd He Hf Hg Hh Hi Hj Hk Hl Hm Hn Ho Hp Hq Hr Hs Ht Hu Hv Hw Hx Hy Hz

I Ia Ib Ic Id Ie If Ig Ih Ii Ij Ik Il Im In Io Ip Iq Ir Is It Iu Iv Iw Ix Iy Iz

J Ja Jb Jc Jd Je Jf Jg Jh Ji Jj Jk Jl Jm Jn Jo Jp Jq Jr Js Jt Ju Jv Jw Jx Jy Jz

K Ka Kb Kc Kd Ke Kf Kg Kh Ki Kj Kk Kl Km Kn Ko Kp Kq Kr Ks Kt Ku Kv Kw Kx Ky Kz

L La Lb Lc Ld Le Lf Lg Lh Li Lj Lk Ll Lm Ln Lo Lp Lq Lr Ls Lt Lu Lv Lw Lx Ly Lz

M Ma Mb Mc Md Me Mf Mg Mh Mi Mj Mk Ml Mm Mn Mo Mp Mq Mr Ms Mt Mu Mv Mw Mx My Mz

N Na Nb Nc Nd Ne Nf Ng Nh Ni Nj Nk Nl Nm Nn No Np Nq Nr Ns Nt Nu Nv Nw Nx Ny Nz

O Oa Ob Oc Od Oe Of Og Oh Oi Oj Ok Ol Om On Oo Op Oq Or Os Ot Ou Ov Ow Ox Oy Oz

P Pa Pb Pc Pd Pe Pf Pg Ph Pi Pj Pk Pl Pm Pn Po Pp Pq Pr Ps Pt Pu Pv Pw Px Py Pz

Q Qa Qb Qc Qd Qe Qf Qg Qh Qi Qj Qk Ql Qm Qn Qo Qp Qq Qr Qs Qt Qu Qv Qw Qx Qy Qz

R Ra Rb Rc Rd Re Rf Rg Rh Ri Rj Rk Rl Rm Rn Ro Rp Rq Rr Rs Rt Ru Rv Rw Rx Ry Rz

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[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt.10

Word Count: 22.3k

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

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

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

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

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.11

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

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

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

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

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

What would you look like fully pregnant?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It hurt. It fucking hurt.

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

Xavier.

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

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

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

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

Our child.

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

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

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

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

Next week, everything would change.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it sweetie?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, to his surprise, you reached out.

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

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

But the moment was fleeting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is bad.

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

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

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

What can I do?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The arcade.

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

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

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

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

He blinked again, and it was gone.

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Okay, well...uh...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything to pull you out of the darkness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The words hit Sylus like a physical blow.

Xavier. Always Xavier.

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

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

He couldn’t listen anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when you saw it.

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

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

And then you realized you weren’t alone.

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

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

But it was Sylus who truly terrified you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he too, smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ultrasound day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The heartbeat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the darkness was all that remained.

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

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

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

Sylus noticed, of course. He always noticed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some things could never be made right.

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

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

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

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

You snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you weren’t done. Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You took that away from me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It fit perfectly. Of course it did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t joking.

Sylus was serious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was your move.

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

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

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

“How cute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that made your next move all the more dangerous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because now? Now you were the one in control.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you weren’t there.

And without you, nothing mattered.

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

He wasn’t mourning your absence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hated it. Every single second of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The nightmares. They wouldn’t stop.

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

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

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

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

Finally, the nurse called his name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there was none.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was going to find you.

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

[tllgrrl]

April Showers Bring Foolery and Shenanigans:

The Vacation Edition - Chapter 1 - “The Foolery continues…”

Rating: G - This time.

Mischievous!Prankster Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson

Summary: Bucky takes every opportunity to get Sarah wet. Whether at home or away on vacation.

****

Prologue: While she was wrapping up her Zoom Staff Meeting, he quietly slid into the pool, completely immersed himself, and climbed out…

****

Being able to check in once a week was the only way Sam and Bucky got Sarah to take some real time off, as in an actual vacation. Alone, just the two of them.

They were staying at one of the beautiful homes that Tony Stark inherited from his late father, Howard Stark. (Howard met Hedy Lamar and decided he wanted to get in the moviemaking business, so he bought a mansion…or two…in Los Angeles.)

Pepper offered the keys to them so they could have more privacy than they would even at the most elite hotel in the area.

They were given a phone number they could call 24 hrs a day for anything they needed. The PIN was j-@-r-v-1-5 .

They also had a refrigerator and pantry stocked, per their personal requests, so they could cook.

Sarah was poolside at a table in the shade. Her laptop was open, and she had an iPad. Bucky was nearby, reading one of the books he brought along. (She gave up trying to talk him into getting a tablet with apps that would give him access to whatever he wanted to read. He preferred conventional books.)

While she was listening to a report from the restaurant’s kitchen manager, Bucky indicated that he was going to get refills on their coffees and she nodded at his wink.

A few minutes later the team saw her eyes tracking…something…as she was talking the final bullet point about the upcoming menu changes.

Then she completely stopped talking. They couldn’t see what she was looking at:

Bucky, soaked to the skin, slowly sauntering toward her, clothes plastered to his body, chiseled abs clearly defined under the dripping wet t-shirt.

They saw her slowly shaking her head, then her picture snapped out, and the last thing they heard was:

“Hey, Sarah.”

“James. Don’t…You…Even…Think—“

“Come’ere you…”

“NononoNO!! James! You’re soaking—!! Put me down!! Boy!! Stop playin—“

SPLAASSH!!!

The meeting was adjourned when they heard Bucky laughing…then Sarah.

They’d heard that laugh once before when Bucky brought her lunch from home. She had closed her office door…and locked it.

To be continued…

**********

Inspired by the photograph from the Sebastian Stan cover story in L’Officiel magazine and the fic that started this nonsense: April Showers Bring Shenanigans and Foolery over on AO3.

**********

Note: April Showers…The Vacation Edition is also at AO3: CH 1 / CH 2 / CH 3, Pt 1 / CH 3, Pt 2 / CH 3, Pt 3 / Epilogue

As they aren’t blessed with these lovely photos, instead they are a little more descriptive and are a bit more expanded. Chapter 3 is in 2 parts. Part 1 is Rated G/T. Part 2 is Rated: E as in Exclusively for Grown Folks.

[youmarin]

Ch. 00 Pt. II :

Talk About Nothing | JJ Maybank x fem! reader

[Edited: March 3, 2023]

a/n: Hi everyone, it's me again back with another piece! It comes after the previous one, To-Not-Do-But-Actually-Do-List that you can find and read right here. I feel it's more like a filler rather than an official second part tbh. Wanted to thank everyone for the likes on TNDBAD List. And special thank you to those 2 anons for their words. Feedback's always appreciated.

I'm okay with readers telling me if I made any grammar mistakes. English is my second language. If you want to know something about the story or make a comment don't hesitate to do so. 😁 Also if you would like a Spanish translation lmk and I'll work on it.

tw: swearing (like one Spanish swear word probably). Other than that I don't think there's much more.

•There's a brief mention of stereotypes (tattoos, piercings, etc.)

•Also I used the word 'gringo' once (which ain't a bad word but there's always someone who says otherwise. Respect but don't agree with their opinion.) Mentioning it just in case.

*Reader's hispanic/latino as you might've noticed. So there's a larger dialogue in this part that's in Spanish. (I'll translate the convo between [] in parts where's necessary ).

Just sweet reader and JJ moments with a bittersweet ending.

Word count: 2.6K+ approx.

After a tiring day of school, a rather hot one - signaling that the beginning of Summer break was approaching-, you finally were about to head home. Gathering your things in your bookbag, you stood up and headed for the door after wishing a good day to your teacher and friends. Not only but a few steps out of the school gates, JJ - who you didn’t know was waiting for you today too. His class being dismissed a few minutes before yours -  spotted you and quickly said goodbye to his friends. He sprinted towards you, reaching you and giving a small jump after taking impulse from your shoulders, effectively startling you. “‘Sup!”

 “Carajo, JJ, you scared me.” you said, a hand to your chest. “I could’ve hit you.”

“You should be used to it by now.” He shrugged. 

“I thought you had already left.” you mentioned, glancing at him starting to walk by your side. 

“And that's exactly what I wanted you to think by not meeting you inside.” He mentioned, proud that his little plan worked out. You two were falling into a rhythm, trying to meet each other by your locker for him to walk you home when you both didn't have your own things to do. It started not so long after you two ditched the party and spent the night together. His friends had told him that he could invite you to hang out with all of them too, but he hadn’t done so. At least not yet. He wouldn’t say, or wouldn’t even know himself, but he enjoyed having all your attention for himself. He had yet another reason to look forward for the end of school day, unconsciously walking slower to prolong the moment, and see how you went from being quiet to get more loose as the minutes passed.

Today, things went a little different. Since the first time he walked you home, he hadn’t once met your family. He knew that the first time you had stopped a few houses ahead because you weren’t in a good place with your family and didn’t want to make the matter worse. But after that, after all his big talk about not minding meeting them, he actually got a little insecure about it and made sure to not get too close. 

The walk seemed a lot shorter or maybe he got too distracted by you, so he didn’t notice you had stopped in front of a small establishment, which was in fact, the front of your house. There were a few people sitting on the tables at the open space in front, enjoying their meals and company. He could hear the faint music from a radio in the background, salsa music specifically -most likely your brother's doing-. It gave a homely atmosphere, warm and inviting. You loved that about it because it was like a piece of your home had come along with you all those years ago to the Outer Banks. 

He finally got out of his own little world he had wrapped you both in when he heard someone, a woman, saying your name. He froze in place.

“¿Mira niña, te piensas quedar ahí afuera? ¿Qué pasa que no avisas que llegaste?”  [Are you planning on standing outside? Why didn't you say you were home?] Your mom spoke directed to you from behind the counter when she noticed you had arrived. Her gaze then shifted between you and JJ, who was just staring back at her, then back to you and back to JJ again. She finally fixed her gaze on you, and you knew what she wanted to know already. 

Nervously, you started, “Mom, this is JJ.” , forgetting to switch back to Spanish. She totally understood what you said (she understood a good deal of things, the difficulty was when it came to speaking), but she didn't like for you to not speak in your native tongue when it was between your family.

The boy in question perked up at the mention of his name, lifting his hand awkwardly in greeting, hesitating. Well, it was too late to run off now.

Apparently, your mom found more interesting the fact that you had company, forgetting to scold you about your slip up earlier. ¿Este es el JJ del que te pasas hablando?” 

“¡Mami!” you complained, getting flustered. Dying to understand what the hell had caused that reaction out of you, JJ looked around as if the explanation was lying around somewhere, frowning. And apparently it was.

“Mom asked if you were that JJ boy my sister always talks about. She’s always talking about you.” Your brother proceeded to wink at you and walk away, arms occupied with something from the store he was carrying while he did an imitation of your voice and whatever you might’ve said about JJ that he happened to overhear, but that part he didn’t say in English. Not even him could turn against you like that. You noticed his backpack was still on his back so that meant he had just gotten home moments before you. 

You opened your mouth to protest but settled on covering your face with your hands, then glanced over at JJ from behind them, seeing the smirk on his face while he looked at you.

Your mom, saying it was about time you come in and eat, asked if JJ was coming. 

“Would you like to come in?” You invited, calming down.

“Yes ma’am.” He accepted, feeling a little more confident now, due to the new information that your family had heard about him. You grabbed his arm, guiding him around and heading all the way back to your house. He kept looking around curiously, admiring the place. He once stopped walking making you almost fall back when he noticed some pictures of when you were little placed around the small living room, “Is that you?” “No”, you lied moving to grab his face, making him look away from the pictures then grabbing his arm again to make him continue walking. He chuckled behind you. 

Your mom motioned for JJ to take a seat at the dinner table, almost making him sit herself. “Muchachito, tú estás flaco, ¿tú quieres comer algo?” [Young boy, you really are thin. Would you like to eat something?] She asked him, her hands placed on his shoulders. At that point you just laughed while you shook your head, wishing you could just vanish right then and there, while you take a seat across from him. 

“Um…” He smiled nervously, while he looked between you and her for help. 

“She’s asking if you would like to eat something.” You answer him. You see how his face lights up finally understanding. 

“Oh yeah, sure.” your mom smiles and nods, pats his shoulder seeing his eagerness and lack of shame, being the greedy growing boy he was. He really would like to have something to eat. And who’s him to decline a free food offer? And a warm homemade meal? That's even better. But that doesn’t stop his eyes from widening when he sees the amount of food that contained the plate placed in front of him.

“I’m sorry if this is too much.” You apologize, thinking he might feel a little uncomfortable. But you see as he digs in, and you chuckle. “Buen provecho.”

He lets out a content sound, “Oh this tastes so good.”  you manage to make out what he says as he speaks with his mouth full, which makes you laugh. He swallows his food, and settles on giving a thumbs up to your mom, who’s about to take a seat at the head of the table. She stares at him, amused and failing to hide the pride she feels when she gets complimented for her cooking.

“Dice que la comida está buena.” You explain to her anyways even though she probably got that part, still laughing at JJ.

He nods. "That. Bueno. Muy bueno."

He smiles, seeing you smile, both of you starting to feel more relaxed. You three sat there, your mom asking questions from time to time, you translating for JJ and your mom. It was impressive how he managed to be so calm besides happening to meet almost all your family so suddenly. He only seemed to tense up at the mention of his family, which you had noticed he never really talked about. Actually, you had never walked to his place. And you knew he hung out at John B’s a lot. You hid your curiosity, not wanting to make him feel pressured to talk much about it and giving a look to your mom, who after a while excused herself and left you two alone, having made enough questions for the time being.

“Oh God, I’m stuffed.” JJ whined dramatically. Still, after a moment, he started to help you clean the table and you both made your way to the kitchen. He thanked your mom for everything and attempted to wash his plate, just for your mom to start scolding him, taking the plate from him and doing it herself while he just laughed and took the earful, giving up. You witness the interaction fondly, catching yourself when JJ looks back at you, and you shrugged at him, giving him a smile. 

JJ excused himself as he went to the bathroom, you indicating him where it was. That left you alone with your mom. “Un rubio de ojos azules.” [A blue-eyed blondie.] she laughed while shaking her head, finishing in the kitchen and heading out to the dining room once again. 

“A Y/N le gusta el gringo.” [*he's saying that you like JJ*] Your brother said in a singsong voice, butting in again, making his way in after being in charge of the store for a while. It was getting late, and the clientele was dying down, which gave him room to come and bother every few minutes. “¿Cómo es que se llama?” [What was his name again?]

“¡Dude shut up!” You wanted to say it in a more angry tone but your laughter was betraying you. “Dejen de molestar. Es mi amigo. Y se llama JJ.”  [Stop being annoying. He's a friend. And his name's JJ.]

“Por ahí se empieza.” [That's how it starts.]

“Ya está bueno.” [That's enough.] Your mom warned your brother. You smiled triumphantly as your brother flipped you off and left once again as he heard a customer come in. “No creas que no te habíamos visto llegar a casa con él antes.” [Don't be thinking we hadn't seen you walk home with him before.] Your mom told you, and you tensed but said nothing, not knowing how she expected you to answer that. “Y no tiene nada de malo. Tiene cara de buenagente pero parece buena persona.” [And there's nothing wrong with it.][ *she's saying he look like a buena gente* . Literally, that just means 1. "good people", but it also can be used to describe someone 2.mischievous or troublesome. Also 3. someone who can do a little more shady stuff. In here, she's using it with meaning #2] [Still, he looks like a good person.] She finished, and you smiled a little at how she chose to describe him. It was a little contradictory but you knew she had liked him. Still she seemed a little worried, like she wasn't saying all she wanted to say.

“¿Y por qué no me dijiste nada si ya sabías quién era? Estás hablando como si algo no te agradara del todo.” [Then why didn't you tell me you already knew who he was? You're talking like there's something you don't like very much.]

“Porque no te quiero decir con quién debes andar y con quién no. Confío en que tú sabes con quién te juntas. Yo sé que tú no coges confianza rápido con las personas y que te toma tiempo. Algo bueno debe tener para que te juntes con él. Pero tú sabes cómo es tu papá. Que no te quiere por ahí con muchachitos buscando problemas o “malandros” como él les dice.” [Because I don't want to tell you who you should and shouldn't be around with. I know you don't trust people easily and that it takes you time. You've had to have seen something good in him to be around him. But you know how your father is, that he doesn't want you around kids looking for problems or *malandros=like, ppl who do shady stuff. Not a synonym of buena gente tho.* as he calls them.]

“¿Y ahora JJ es un malandro?” [And now JJ is *?] you scoffed at the idea. “Mami, ¿de dónde siquiera se sacaron eso? Él ni siquiera cae en la descripción de papi: “Ah, tatuajes, piercings, mira la cara que tiene.” You imitated your dad’s voice, mockingly. “Esos estereotipos de ustedes.” [Where do you got that from? He doesn't even fit dad's profile: "Oh, tattoos, piercings, look at his expression." You and your stereotypes] You shook your head. 

“No es que lo sea. Es que tengas cuidado.” [ It's not that he is. Just be careful] She tried to explain. “Tu papá y yo nos preocupamos porque hemos escuchado cosas por ahí.”  [Your dad and I worry because we've heard stuff around.]

That information piqued your interest, but refrained from asking about it. At least not for now, not while you had other options. “Lo acabas de conocer, ma’. Y pa’ todavía ni lo ha conocido en persona. Lo que sea que hayas escuchado no debería importar. Lo que importa es lo que él te deje ver. Yo voy a seguir conociéndolo por lo que él me deje ver, no por lo que otros anden diciendo de él.” [You just met him, mom. Dad hasn't even met him in person yet. Whatever you have heard shouldn't matter. What matters is what he lets you see. I'm gonna keep getting to know him for what he shows me, not for what other people go around saying about him.] You stared at her and gave her a small smile “Okay?” 

Grabbing your hand from on top of the table, she gave it a light squeeze. She closed her eyes for a moment, then mimicked your smile. “Okay.” 

JJ had been listening to you two speak for a while. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, he just didn’t want to interrupt. Also he liked to hear you speak and see you where you could be your most comfortable self. If only he knew they’ve been talking about him all the time.

“Oh hey you. You’re back.” You smiled at him when you saw him finally walk in. Your mom, seeing the way you both smiled at each other, concluded she wouldn’t bring up that topic again unless it was strictly necessary. 

----------------- 

You walked JJ outside, both of you standing in front of the store, the last sunrays casting a light orange glow around. JJ now had a bag with more food your mother had packed for him to take home, even though he told her she really didn’t have to bother doing that. She also let him pick whatever he wanted from the store, and with no other choice, he settled in grabbing a couple of snacks. 

“So,” he started, as he turned to look at you, “Your mom's nice.”  

“Yeah, she’s quite the character.”  you chuckled, looking down at your fidgeting fingers. You shook your head. “I’m sorry if something bothered you. It all happened so fast I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” 

“Hey.” He called your attention. “It 's okay. I had fun today, as always.” he reassured you. “Quite the opposite. It made me feel comfortable knowing that you were comfortable enough to let me meet your family.", he made a brief pause, "Also, you need to stop apologizing.”  

“Sorry, comes out of habit.”, you catched yourself, “ I mean. Okay."

He wanted to ask what was that about but chose not to, instead saying something else before heading out. “So, I assume that if your mom’s cooking is that good, yours is as well, right?” he grinned, and you rolled your eyes, amused.

“ I do sometimes prepare a mean meal." you said jokingly. "No but seriously now, I most of the time choose to help mom out. She says I’m very good at it but I actually hate cooking. I prefer doing the dishes honestly.”, you state. He nods, before coming up with a proposition. 

“Say, if I volunteer to do the dishes, would you be the cook next time you have me over?” He gave you another grin. He was mostly joking, so he didn’t expect a real answer.

“I’ll consider it.” was your response, crossing your arms and giving him a close-lipped smile, happy about the implication of a next time. The thought of how cute you looked right now crossed his mind. 

“I should get going now.” He reached over for his cap with his free hand, suddenly getting kind of nervous, stalling a bit.

“Right.” you hid how him having to leave lowered your spirits a little. “See ya at school tomorrow.”, you hesitated as he said goodbye and started walking out. “Um…” 

He turned to look at you almost immediately again, getting his attention. He then felt your lips on his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his lips. You had tripped over your feet, holding on to him to reach up for a kiss, since he was much taller than you. His eyes widened, suddenly forgetting how to move. Meanwhile, you stepped back, still holding his arm, eyes mirroring his at the fact that you almost kissed him. You came out of your freaked out state first, and let go of his arm when you noticed you were still holding onto him. “Um, bye.” you smiled nervously, slowly starting walking back backwards, a bad idea as you nearly tripped again. You recovered, giving the same smile and short wave, disappearing into your home.

He watched the way where you had went, a hand reaching for the spot on his cheek you had kissed him while a smile slowly took form on his face. He didn’t know what made you do that, but he liked it. 

---------------- 

JJ took a detour on his way to John B’s and made a stop at his place first. His dad wasn’t around, the only thing left behind were the traces of his presence, the house a mess. He decided to fix everything around a little, make the place more decent even though he knew it wouldn’t take long for the place to get trashed again. He finished by leaving his dad a note letting him know there was some food in the fridge, having decided to leave it for him. He hoped he at least noticed the note. He grabbed a couple things from his room, putting them inside his backpack, looked around for the last time, before heading out. 

[jazlynriddle]

Welcome to your life - Pt 3:

It's My Own Design Ch 19:

Summary:

Ominis fought to control his expression, to keep his hands from trembling. Five years. Five years since he'd seen his parents, and this. This was the reason they'd given him the honour of their time? This was the reason they'd sought him out at Hogwarts?

The bitterness welling up within him was thick enough to gag on.

New year, new allies, new responsibilities, new avenues of revenue, and new aspects of their own Ancient Magic to explore. As the Keeper and their partners enter their last year at Hogwarts, it remains to be seen if the new school year will bring with it new problems or adversaries, but they are confident in the strength of their relationship with Sebastian and Ominis. The three of them would endure, no matter what befell them.

And if they were wrong?

What a joke, they would suffer no alternative.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Torture, mentions of past sexual assault.

God, I am so tired, I'm seriously considering dropping my upload schedule and just posting when I have a chapter ready, because meeting this deadline was painful. But at the same time, I know that’s because this and last chapter’s notes required like its own chapter’s worth of thought and writing, and next chapter will be less heavy and back to moving the plot along-

And I shouldn't have started uploading a second fic at this timing lol, that was some terrible planning right there. I really didn't think the notes for that one would end up being so much work too.

Speaking of a second fic, if ya'll interested, I have been uploading a second fic, Heavy Is The Crown! It's Ominis/Sebastian, a what-if the Keeper wasn't MC, where that MC fucked off and did their own thing and Sebastian got super depressed without their support and Ominis just went off the rails in an attempt to keep Sebastian Sebastian. If you're interested in some dark ass porn with a happy ending (because I only write happy endings), feel free to hop over there haha

Oh that reminds me, remember how I said this chapter’s notes wouldn’t be as long as last? Well, I seem to have lied... oops, I swear I didn't mean to- x’D

Edit: Forgot to add that I'll be skipping an upload again, I've got painful new year family reunion stuff to deal with OTL so the next chapter will be in 4 weeks!

FYI, some less common terminology that I use in this chapter; The term “guttersnipe” was a slur used to refer to homeless children who lived or spent a lot of time in the streets, scavenging in gutters for sustenance. And a “constitutional” was a posh way of referring to a walk or stroll for health. The terms “guv” or “guv'nor” are short for “governor” and were slangs used to refer to a superior or someone higher than oneself in the hierarchy, kind of like “boss”. Oh, and a reminder that “bobby” was a slang for police.

There was a faint click as the Keeper snapped a silver collar shut around the neck of one Frederick Taylor. His unconscious form sprawled out on a thin mattress in the third cell of Dìon's dungeons, chained by his wrists and ankles to the cot's metal frame.

Slipping a finger under Borgok's goblin silver collar, the Keeper tugged on it just once, confirming that it was loose enough to breathe while remaining secure, before straightening.

“Here you go.” Sebastian grinned, offering them an open jar of E-Pain energy.

Giving him a fond nod of thanks, the Keeper slipped their wand into the opening of the jar and withdrew the tiniest sliver of energy. Sebastian had always seemed oddly enthusiastic about helping them with their work. Even back when they were exploring together in fifth-year, and - aside from that one time he'd gotten impatient - it'd only become stronger as time passed.

They did wonder from time to time what Sebastian got out of being their faithful assistant, but it was cute enough that they didn't see the need to question it too much. Setting such thoughts aside, the Keeper cautiously lowered the small bubble of energy onto the band of silver and with a hiss the red smoke fizzled, melding into the metal and turning it bright red.

Before they could do anything else however, there was another faint click, and the Keeper leaned backwards in surprise, when the man let out a shriek and jolted awake, his eyes snapping wide open and his body going shock stiff. The Keeper observed with intrigue, the red that glowed in his pupils for a brief moment, before fading as he went limp, trembling on the mattress while sweat beaded on his brow.

“Well, a very good morning to you, Mr. Taylor.” The Keeper gave him a sardonic smirk. “Would you mind telling me what you're feeling?”

They could hear Sebastian snickering behind them, and Frederick's wide eyes darted about, his chest heaving for breath, and the collar around his neck - once again - empty and silver.

“Who- wher-” He gasped out, trying to move and, realising that his limbs were chained down, immediately began struggling against them.

“Your wife placed a bounty on your head, Mr. Taylor.” The Keeper explained, watching impassively as he froze, staring at them in shock. “I accepted the job and as such, you are now at my mercy.”

The man stared silently for several minutes, and they started to wonder if he was too hung over to think. See, that's why the Keeper never let their ol’ gov'nor push them into drinking alcohol. That shit was too unpredictable, and they'd never felt safe enough to try something that could potentially cost them their self-control.

Rather abruptly however, Frederick's face contorted with fury, and he practically launched himself from the cot, or at least attempted to, serving only to jostle the mattress and rattle his chains.

“I knew she still had money from her parents!” Frederick seethed, his face red with anger. “Fucking lying cunt!”

Sebastian and the Keeper both stared at him incredulously as he cursed and swore up a storm. Really? That was what the man was focused on?

Becoming irritated - when it didn't seem like he intended to stop anytime soon - the Keeper slapped him soundly across the face, glaring down at the pathetic man imperiously. “You seem to be under some misconceptions. Mrs. Taylor only offered me a percentage of your assets - as well as your person - in payment.”

To their surprise, the man glared back at them, his eyes crazed. “You really believe she can't afford to pay you? Didn't know mercenaries took charity jobs.”

“I'll sooner believe the woman offering me money than the man who beat his wife and killed his elf.” The Keeper scoffed.

Though, they supposed he did have a point, could they really say they were abiding by Ominis’ wish, for them to avoid targeting innocents, if they didn't verify guilt? A contractor could say anything after all. Perhaps they should do something more next time. This man, on the other hand, was already as good as convicted of the crime of abusing and murdering his elf.

“Elf? I didn't- it's- Tobbs is dead?” Frederick stared at them in disbelief and the Keeper sneered, he wasn't even denying the first allegation.

They ground their teeth together in anger. “You left your elf without supplies in a cave infested with spiders, what the fuck did you think was going to happen!?”

The Keeper's hand twitched with the itch to drive their Fear-coated dagger into his thigh, but they restrained themselves, it wouldn't do to put him into a coma before they'd run a few tests with the collar first.

“How’s it my fault if the elf died in there!?” The man spluttered. “Thought it could handle a few bugs. Them house elves are so damn powerful, and what do you care? The thing was my property, it's my business what I do with my elf and my bitch wife.”

Their vision went red, that indifference, irresponsibility, the fucking apathy.

Not my problem, I just hand out the rations, kid.

Don't bother me, I'm on break. Bein’ a bobby ain't easy, urchin. Now scram.

It's your own fault for fighting. Just give them what they want.

God only punishes the sinful, child. Think about what you might have done to deserve this, then pray for forgiveness and accept your punishment with humility.

Just because it doesn't hurt you. Lazy, callous, haughty ignorance that sealed the fate of those beneath these scum. Did the man think elves could cast magic when they were starving to death? No, he just didn't think, didn't care enough to think further than his own convenience.

Wilful stupidity was truly sickening. Letting one think themselves unburdened by the guilt and accountability of all the evil their very ignorance brought about and allowed to propagate. Turning away from the domino effects of their actions and inaction.

Ignorance is bliss only for the ignorant. It's hell for everyone else.

Pushing the problem to someone else over and over, and who gets left carrying the bag? The ones at the bottom of the rung, those whose only sin was being born there, those who did nothing but their best, and got nothing but hate and disregard. Close your eyes, look away, bury your head in the sand, but the problem remains, the suffering remains, and it just keeps getting passed on, growing larger and larger each time.

There's always someone further down the rung. Always someone to inherit all the pain and anger. All the injustice and cruelty.

High-minded filth, it burned within the Keeper's clenched fists, the near endless rage that only grew every time they had been kicked aside by people who could have helped them. Hollow eyes filled with disgust and mockery, looking at the Keeper like all the street children were beneath them.

Die. Every last one of you.

Sebastian's eyes widened when the Keeper went from standing stiffly by Frederick's cot, to strangling the life out of him within a split second. He was frozen for a moment in surprise, but at the man's choked gurgles, he moved forward to grasp their shoulder.

“Love, you know if you kill him we won't be able to run Ominis’ tests, right?” Sebastian chuckled nervously, freezing when he got a good look at their face under the dim light.

Their pupils had dilated into pinpricks, an almost rabid variant of enraged insanity that he'd never seen before, no joy, no distance, he didn't think they'd even heard him.

He'd seen them grinning wildly as they slaughtered Ashwinders, had seen their greedy and almost child-like delight when experimenting, their panic when they'd lost control of their magic, and their ecstasy when taking Pain energy or when he brought them pleasure. He'd seen their broken and lonely grief when the Hebridean Black died, he'd seen their cold analytical gaze, and even sadistic playfulness.

He'd seen so many sides of them, had so many different reactions to them, from arousal to pain to amusement.

Now, Sebastian felt something new prickling in his chest, fear.

There’d always been a sense about the Keeper, like they were somehow removed from everything that happened around them. Like they were watching the world play out before them with impassive interest, and he’d found that fascinating. Whatever they were experiencing now, however, was something visceral and almost familiar.

He wasn’t sure why, but the memory of casting the killing curse on his uncle flashed through his mind. He felt like what they were feeling was hurting them just as much as they were hurting Frederick right now, and - for the first time - Sebastian felt like that anger was standing between him and the Keeper, like a wall.

“Hey, love, you need to stop.” Sebastian reiterated, pulling at them and trying to pry their fingers from around the man's neck.

Now their attention finally turned to him, and for a brief second, he felt that fear spike when the anger in their eyes was also turned on him. His hands lost their grip on the Keeper’s, before something far more unexpected happened, pain bloomed on his cheek and the sound of impact rang in his ears, his vision abruptly turned to the side.

It took a few seconds of stunned silence for him to realise what had even happened, touching a hand to his cheek in disbelief, they'd just backhanded him.

His eyes flickered to the Keeper’s face and their horrified expression. He took an instinctive step backwards and they immediately flinched, before reaching out to him.

“S- Sebastian, I- I'm sorry, I didn't- I wasn't-” Their uncharacteristic stammer, the tremor in their voice, and their cold fingers brushing lightly against his hot cheek, snapped him out of his shock.

“It- it's okay.” Sebastian shook his head, taking their hand slowly. “I mean, we're even now.”

He chuckled weakly, thinking of the time he'd attacked them in the Undercroft when he was furious about Poppy and when he'd lashed out at them verbally on the mountain. They might not have blamed him for those incidents of him hurting them, but it didn't change the fact that he had.

He left their cold hand to rest on his cheek, and wrapped his arms around their waist, holding them close, listening to their shaky breaths by his ear. He knew better than most how easy it was to lose control when emotions are running high. To take an action that feels right in the moment, only to wish you could take it back when all was said and done.

The Keeper shook their head, trying to make sense of what just happened, they'd hit him. Sebastian. They'd hit Sebastian. How did that even happen-

They'd just- what was he thinking? Trying to stop them when they were this angry. No, it wasn't his fault. They'd lost control in front of him, of course he'd try to stop them. This was Sebastian, the bravest idiot they'd ever known. They couldn't blame him for their own loss of discipline.

They clutched at him, fingers clenching tight in the cloth on his back, burying their face in his shoulder. “I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you, I just- I was so angry-”

“I know. You were just trying to shake my hand off.” Sebastian's voice was soft and warm, understanding and gentle in their ear, and the Keeper took a deep breath, letting his steady presence calm their nerves.

There was relief mingled in the mess of feelings clogging up their brain, relief that Sebastian wasn’t angry or blaming them, gratitude that he was offering them comfort and support while they came to terms with what had happened. The deafening heartbeat pounding in their ears gradually quietening in his embrace.

To their immense irritation however, the coughing and choking man on the cot chose this moment to splutter. “W- what? Not gonna- not gonna finish the job? Fuckin’ psycho.”

The Keeper wondered to themselves if the man just had no survival instinct or if his brain had stopped working with a combination of alcohol and oxygen deprivation, but his next words gave them pause.

“Do it. Kill me, not like I have anything left. Fucking muggle bastards were right, guttersnipe like me have no future.” His mutterings were bitter and resigned. “If they hadn't died... if I'd been born to richer folk, or rich magical parents, I'd never have married that bitch, I'd have had everything I wanted, I'd have been happy, I wouldn't have ended up here...”

The Keeper stiffened at his words, a distant memory that they'd long buried surfacing in their mind. Spitting into the face of the man who would spend the next five years fucking their throat, using them and whoring them out to his lackies, screaming their defiance at fate.

...there's no difference! No difference between us! If I had what you have-

So, you think you'd do as well as me if you had my wealth, my power? Think you'd never need to beg again?

Better. I'd do better.

Very well, let's play a little game then, pretty bird...

They squeezed their eyes closed, pressing their face harder against Sebastian's shoulder, taking a deep breath of his scent, trying desperately to force the rest of that memory away, the disgust and fear they'd felt then. Icy phantom hands on their body, prying their thighs apart, touching places that made them want to vomit.

“Crucio.” Sebastian's voice was now hard and cold, rumbling from his chest under their ear, and the sound of Frederick screaming was soothing to their agitated heart.

They were safe now, they were powerful now, they had Sebastian and Ominis. The Keeper's skin prickled, they wanted to have Sebastian's warm hands on their body, wanted his nails to scrape away the lingering itch on their knees and thighs. Wanted to taste Ominis on their tongue again, wanted to vomit till their stomach was empty and fill themselves with Ominis and Sebastian instead.

The Keeper shook their head as the screams eventually ceased, struggling to suppress their thoughts. This wasn't the time for that, they'd come down here with a task. There was only a week of the Christmas holidays left, and they needed to focus if they wanted to reassure Ominis before school started again.

They loosened their grip on Sebastian, leaning back while he peered at their face with concerned eyes, and the Keeper sighed, giving him a soft kiss. “I'm alright now, thank you.”

“You sure?” He asked, brushing a hand over their hair gently and they could feel that touch in their heart.

With a strained smile, the Keeper nodded. “I just- he brought back some bad memories.”

“Do you... want to talk about it?” Sebastian asked tentatively, shifting on the spot with an adorable awkwardness.

They chuckled fondly, comforted to see that nothing had changed. “Maybe later. For now… I should probably get back to work.”

The Keeper pulled out a wiggenweld and offered it to Sebastian, who gave them a bemused grin that clearly said, ‘really? Me first? The one who got an accidental smack, not the guy you strangled and I then subsequently crucio-ed’.

Shrugging, the Keeper gave him a smirk, which got them a soft huff and an eye roll, before he took the vial and raised it to his lips while they turned their attention back to Frederick. It was... surprising that the man was perhaps not the well-off fucker that they'd expected.

A part of them was deeply unsettled to find that the pathetic creature lying on that cot was like them, that someone who'd survived coming from the streets could become exactly like the people who'd oppressed them. It challenged their belief that only those who had not suffered like they had, could be so unconscious, so uncaring of the suffering of others.

They'd thought it was their suffering that separated them from the other entitled spoiled children that ran about Hogwarts. That their roots were the source of the rift between them and the people who didn't understand how fortunate they were, but perhaps not.

This man had the same understanding of the world that the Keeper had, that one's birth and circumstances dictated their lives, yet it didn't make him more aware of the suffering of those beneath him. He hadn't learnt the same lessons they had.

What was different? They wondered. Being admitted to Hogwarts at eleven instead of fifteen? Was that enough to change his trajectory so vastly? The Keeper knew they couldn't take full credit for all their achievements, a lot of them were only achievable thanks to their fortune and the power they'd been born with.

They did however, take pride in their efforts to make the most of the opportunities they'd been given, all the hard work and constant struggle to become stronger, smarter, and wiser. Sebastian had shown that same dedication to personal growth, as had Ominis even in spite of his fear of change. Perhaps for reasons unknowable to them, Frederick simply hadn't and thus never came to this realisation.

The Keeper shook their head, whatever the case, these were questions they would never get an answer to. The man had essentially murdered Tobbs, beaten his wife and left his child to be torn apart by a wolf. With that track record, leaving a man like him to his own devices would likely result in yet more harm, but it didn't matter how he'd ended up here. Not to them at least, not anymore.

Regardless of the path he'd been placed upon, Frederick had ended up in their way thanks to his mistakes and, unfortunately for him, those mistakes made him someone they could use, without hurting Ominis. The Keeper needed a test subject to protect their interests and unlike Fredrick, they weren't going to blame anyone else for what they were about to do.

This had nothing to do with justice or righteousness or moral high ground, nor because he deserved this fate, he was simply going to suffer and die for their future.

For the future that they needed, and anyone else in their way would suffer the same fate.

That was all anyone could do.

Taking a deep breath, the Keeper set aside their thoughts and musings, taking the half-empty vial that Sebastian returned to them and carrying it over to Frederick.

“Unfortunately for you, you're no good to me dead. Open your mouth.” The Keeper ordered the wary man lying on the cot and when he made no move to follow their instruction, they narrowed their eyes sharply. “This is either going down your throat or your windpipe. Choose.”

Taking their warning seriously, the man opened his mouth, and they dumped the remaining wiggenweld into it unceremoniously, before setting aside the empty vial and picking the jar of E-Pain energy up again.

The collar had activated and injected the Pain immediately last time, even though they hadn't pressed anything or cast any spell. What had activated it? The Keeper frowned as they extracted another tiny bulb of energy with their wand, before setting the jar down and grabbing Frederick by the hair to hold him in place, while they refilled the collar.

Once again, however, the collar immediately injected all its E-Pain till it was depleted.

They ground their teeth in frustration, what were they doing wrong? They'd even gone with E-Pain rather than any other variants, so that it would be as close to what Ranrok had worked with as possible. There also didn't seem to be any change in the collar once energy was added, how did Ranrok tell the collar not to inject? Or when to inject?

The Keeper continued trying three more times, with varying amounts of energy, but the results remained the same. Each time, the collar immediately injected every drop of energy bound within it, and every time, it caused Frederick visible amounts of pain.

“Argh!” The Keeper kicked one of the cot's legs in frustration. “Why does it keep releasing immediately?”

“How about we take a break for now? We can have tea with Ominis and try again after we're refreshed.”

The Keeper didn't need to look to tell that Sebastian's expression was concerned, and while they itched to snap that they were fine, they knew it wasn't true. They were still on edge after what happened and they would be the biggest hypocrite if they told Ominis to get some sleep to refresh himself three days ago, and didn't follow their own advice.

Taking a breath and forcing down their pride, the Keeper swallowed and turned to give him a stiff nod. “You're right. We can come back after tea.”

Sebastian gave them a hopeful smile and held up their satchel for them to drop the jar into. With a grateful nod, the Keeper took their satchel and led the way out of the cell towards the staircase. They could leave Frederick chained to the cot for now, since they would be coming back in just an hour or so.

Still, it was hard to imagine that a break would help, this was the first time they'd absolutely no leads whatsoever and it was indescribably frustrating.

As they climbed the stairwell, the sound of Sebastian's footsteps came to a halt behind them, and the Keeper stopped as well. “Sebastian? Is something wrong?”

His expression was troubled. “What that man said earlier. Am I doing the same thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“He blamed his wife, his parents, for the mistakes he's made. He blamed his elf for not protesting his own negligence.” Sebastian's expression became pained. “I-”

He sat down on a step and the Keeper slowly lowered themselves to sit beside him, brows furrowed in concern.

“I've been having this thought.” Sebastian whispered, like a confession. “That I wish Anne had told me that she didn't want me to save her at all costs. Am I doing the same thing? Blaming a victim for not telling me that she didn't approve of what I was doing? Should I have pressed harder till she told me the truth, was I the negligent one? Should I have stopped?”

“No.” The Keeper shook their head. “I highly doubt Frederick's wife encouraged him to hit her, in contrast, Anne acted like she wanted to be cured. I was there, I saw how excited and hopeful she was when you brought her a Shrivelfig. I heard her agree to the ritual, even after you told her it required a dark sacrifice. It's not your fault you believed what she was showing and saying.”

Sebastian watched them silently, and they took his hand. “She told me that she knew you meant well, she just didn't believe that it was possible to break the curse, she believed Solomon. That's why Anne felt your actions were not worth the risk, it's not your fault she agreed with Solomon. We'll show her that it's possible and I'm sure it'll change her mind.”

His eyes were starting to regain some of their brightness, and the Keeper placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “You're nothing like that pathetic man. Anne changed her mind and didn't explain herself to you or give you the chance to change course. It's perfectly reasonable for you to wish she had been honest with you.”

They still remembered the look on Anne's face when Sebastian killed the goblin with Imperio to save her life. That was probably the point when her view of him had started to change. That look of fear, like she didn't know him. She'd stopped trusting him, and for what? Saving her life in a societally unacceptable way?

How was what Sebastian did any different from killing the goblin with a blade? Or Solomon, who was also killing the attacking goblins - just with legal spells - or the villagers who used cabbages to do the same? It wasn't like Sebastian had been violent towards her like Frederick had his wife.

Anne never even tried to talk about her misgivings with Sebastian or Ominis or even the Keeper themselves, if she was worried about Sebastian, she could've said something. There were so many things Anne could have done besides simply agreeing to the ritual when Sebastian told her about it. Though, they knew why she hadn't, because deep down, she did want to be cured. Of course, who wouldn't?

Even so, if you say and do one thing, but mean another, you can't blame the other person for failing to read your mind and figure out what you really mean. If you don't state your boundaries and limits clearly, you don't get to be righteously furious when someone steps over them.

It wasn't her fault for being torn, but it was on her for not communicating her feelings and boundaries to Sebastian.

“Thanks, I think I've been needing to hear that for a while.” Sebastian sighed, giving them a grateful smile. “You're right, as usual. And it's not like I didn't try other things. I mean, I am fascinated by Dark Magic, but I did try everything else I could think of. I know the healers know more healing magic than I could ever know, so I was looking at every unconventional method I could find.”

“Yeah, you begged me to use my Ancient Magic when that seemed like a feasible solution.” In a way that had shown how much he believed in them too, the Keeper returned his smile fondly, a pang of sadness in their heart… and how little he thought anyone could care about him.

Please. If not for me, then for Anne.

The Keeper had wanted to laugh in disbelief, silly boy, they had far less reason to risk antagonising the Elder Keepers for Anne, than they did Sebastian himself. He had done so much for them already by then, it was so sad that Sebastian didn't think his earnestness and effort would inspire any sort of reciprocation from them.

That Anne would somehow be favoured by them purely for... what? Being a girl? For looking weak and pitiful? For dying from a curse? There were so many innocent children dying on the streets every day. If the world worked that way, there would be far less suffering than there was.

The Keeper wondered if Sebastian had expected that because his uncle favoured her for reasons he couldn’t understand. They kind of wanted to ask, but...

“Speaking of Ancient Magic, why not try using it on the collar? Or maybe try using Frederick's own pain to fill his collar?” Sebastian asked, his eyes sliding off to the side, and the Keeper understood that he was trying to change the subject.

Well, that was fine, Sebastian was the type to think further on his own over time, the Keeper gave him a small smile but shook their head. “Ranrok didn't have Ancient Magic, nor any means to extract E-Pain, so that's unlikely to be the solution. Though it's certainly a brilliant idea to try using his own E-Pain, I'll do that when I figure out how the collar works. Good thinking.”

Face brightening at the praise, Sebastian got to his feet and offered them a hand. “Let's talk about this with Ominis then, he might have some ideas too.”

The Keeper nodded and took his hand, letting him pull them up, and the two went together to find their pretty boyfriend.

It took a while, but they eventually found Ominis in the first-floor library.

The Keeper poked their head through the wooden doors, spotting the blond standing by the northern wall, through the hollow rows of yet empty bookshelves. Before they could even call out, Sebastian flew past them - and the shelves - tackling Ominis with a big bear hug, while the Keeper followed at a more sedate pace.

“I was starting to wonder if I would be having tea alone today.” Ominis gave an exasperated chuckle as Sebastian peppered his face with happy kisses.

“You can thank Sebastian for dragging my arse up here.” The Keeper gave him a fond grin, before looking up at the portrait that Ominis had been mounting on the wall. “This is a good spot. Good afternoon, Professor Fig.”

“It's very nice to see you again, my young friend.” The elderly man in the painting smiled down at the Keeper with familiar warm eyes, and they felt a twinge of pain in their chest at the sight. “I'm told that you were with me in my last moments, I'm very sorry that you have to carry that.”

“It's been difficult, and I'll admit to having missed you more than I expected.” The Keeper shrugged and was rather happy to see that the portrait - bearing Fig's memories - understood their brand of affectionate humour too.

Fig beamed proudly, and clasped his hands together with that boyish enthusiasm that often had them forgetting that he was almost a century older than them. “I'll never be a replacement, but I'll do my best to give you the support he would have.”

The Keeper gave him a grateful nod. “How far back do your memories go?”

“Just after you went to subdue the Lord of the Shore.” The portrait answered with a playful glimmer in his eyes. “I stopped by my portrait for the last time, before going to meet you in the map chamber.”

“Alright, I'll extract my memories of you - past that point - and stop by later to give them to you.” The Keeper nodded.

“Excellent, I appreciate you giving my secondary frame a wonderful view of the sunrise, and I look forward to hearing how your adventure with the Graphorn unfolded!” Fig bounced in his portrait with palpable excitement and the Keeper could feel the empty place in their heart finally begin to ache a little less.

If only they could have a portrait of Lodgok too, but no witch or wizard would paint a goblin, and once more, they cursed the senseless bigotry against goblinkind.

“You subdued a graphorn!?” Ominis exclaimed in disbelief, his eyes filled with alarm.

The Keeper chuckled, reminded that the boys were still present and observing the interaction with interest. “Yes, I still have the Lord of the Shore in my vivarium back in Hogwarts’ room of requirement.”

“You own a graphorn!?” Sebastian exclaimed in amazement, his eyes wide with excitement.

The Keeper laughed and patted Sebastian on the head. “You'll get to see him when our vivariums are ready for me to move them into. Wait till you see my phoenix.”

“A phoenix... that's incredible. How did you find something so rare?” Ominis murmured and the Keeper was rather relieved that he wasn't kicking up a fuss about the graphorn. Maybe he thought they'd managed to win it over without a fight, and they certainly weren't going to correct him, unless he asked directly.

“There were poachers after it and Deek asked me to rescue it.” The Keeper answered simply with a shrug.

“Ugh, wish we could visit the legendary Room of Requirement to see what it looks like.” Sebastian grumbled, dropping his chin on Ominis’ shoulder.

“Maybe closer to our graduation, when Professor Weasley isn't as much of a concern.” The Keeper grinned wryly, and Sebastian glanced at the portrait with some uncertainty, but to his apparent surprise, Fig didn't seem disapproving of their words, in fact...

“A wise choice!” The portrait of Fig laughed. “And I am certain she won't mind you sharing the secret before you graduate, it'll be your last chance to see the wonders of Hogwarts. And, strict as she may be, Professor Weasley understands what the school means to many of its students.”

“I'll take your word for it, sir.” The Keeper chuckled and before they could speak further, Sebastian's stomach made a soft sound. Giving him an amused smile, they pressed a kiss to his pink cheek. “Shall we head to tea then?”

“It certainly sounds like we should.” Ominis giggled, drawing a pout from Sebastian for their amusement at his expense, before Ominis pressed his palms together, beaming happily. “Oh, and Tibsy said she made cheesecake for tea today, the milk finally finished ageing.”

Wearing an eager grin, Sebastian made no protest as the blond took his hand and pulled him towards the stairs. The Keeper was about to follow, when the portrait spoke again.

“I see that you've become very close to Mr Gaunt and Mr Sallow.” Fig smiled softly. “I'm glad that you've found people to love.”

“I-” The Keeper paused, swallowing around the thickness in their throat, thinking of what they'd done only a while ago in Frederick's cell. “I'm- I thought... I thought I knew what that meant. But I'm not sure I do. I'll admit that I’m becoming scared. I have so much power. I'm not sure I'm the right person to wield it. I'm not sure I won't accidentally hurt those I love.”

The professor's eyes were sad and sympathetic. “You can never really know if you'll hurt others in the pursuit of your goals, no matter how well intentioned. My dearest Miriam didn't intend to leave me, but she was only human, and we all make mistakes. I cannot tell you how deeply I wish I'd stopped her.”

They closed their eyes, they'd hurt Ominis this way too. Even Sebastian both had and had been.

Fig smiled. “But I say that only with the knowledge that she would not come home. I know, deep down, that I never would have stopped her. While the result caused me grief, I do not begrudge her for chasing Ancient Magic, thinking only of the good it could do. I don't blame her for doing what she believed in, even if it ended up hurting me. I'm sure they feel the same way, as do you.”

The Keeper gazed into his eyes as the professor spoke. “Don't expect yourself to be perfect, it is not possible to be truly worthy of power, we can only try our best with the power that is given to us.”

Nodding slowly, the Keeper allowed his words to sink in and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you for your advice. It’s good to have you back, Professor.”

“You are most welcome, my young friend.” The elderly portrait beamed brightly as the sound of footsteps returned.

“Rove? Yu comin’?” Sebastian called out, his mouth full of cheesecake as he poked his head back into the library, brown eyes peering curiously at them.

“I'll see you later then, Professor.” The Keeper gave Fig a nod of farewell and followed the brunet out of the library.

“...so, Sebastian suggested that we take a break, and we left to find you.” The Keeper took a sip of their tea, still feeling slightly uncomfortable after explaining what had happened in Fredrick’s cell, but at least it was over and done with. Though they'd left out Sebastian’s casting of the Cruciatus curse in their retelling.

“I swear, it barely hurt. I was more startled than anything else.” Sebastian insisted, before shoving the last bite of his cheesecake into his mouth, and the Keeper gave him a grateful smile.

“Well, I'm glad that you returned to your senses without anything worse occurring.” Ominis frowned with some concern. “It must have been a pretty awful memory he brought back.”

“...memories. He reminded me of the people who turned a blind eye to suffering. My suffering.” The Keeper sighed. “But I guess, I now see how easy it could have been, to turn out like him.”

“Well, you didn't. And that's what matters.” Ominis’ voice was firm, and the Keeper considered the likelihood that he often worried about such possibilities too. It was pretty high.

“Yeah, if you had, we probably wouldn't be here.” Sebastian nodded, leaning over to steal a bit of Ominis’ cheesecake with his fork, only for the blond to catch him by the wrist, his eyes narrow, and Sebastian retreated with a pout.

“I'm not sure if that's reassuring or not.” The Keeper chuckled.

“It should be, it means we wouldn't be interested in having anyone else in your spot.” Sebastian shrugged and took a drink of his tea.

“Guess I’ll have to work hard to keep you two invested.” The Keeper leaned back in their seat with a wry smile.

“Don't overdo it though, taking a break isn't the same as quitting.” Ominis had a knowing glint in his eyes as he said this, and Sebastian's face lit up, when Ominis cut the remainder of his cheesecake in half and held it up in his direction.

Watching with a fond smile, as Sebastian happily took the offered bite, the Keeper nodded. “I'll keep that in mind. Though, speaking of working hard, I plan to ask future contractors to provide evidence of guilt, memories perhaps. I didn't need to do so with Frederick, since I already know his crimes, but I won't necessarily for future jobs. I'll need to do my part to keep my promise.”

Ominis’ eyes widened with some surprise, before a pleased smile covered his face.

“I see, well, I very much appreciate the effort. And for my part, I've almost finished putting up the portraits.” The blond paused to pat Sebastian on the head. “Just left the three in the Keep and Anne's primary portrait, to be put up in your study.”

“I can do that later.” Sebastian nodded, his eyes slightly distant, perhaps thinking about his sister again.

“Thank you, for setting them up while Sebastian and I were occupied these last three days.” The Keeper leaned over to give Ominis a kiss on the cheek and the corners of his eyes crinkled happily at the gesture.

The Keeper and Sebastian had taken some time - before they'd gone to find the Rowdy Rogue - to walk the castle walls. Looking for the best places to put up portraits, that would facilitate quick communication and allow the portraits to perform some level of lookout capability. Then they'd left the actual placing to Ominis and gone about their work.

As per their order, the three commissioned artworks had arrived with three linked replicas each, allowing each portraits’ subjects to travel between three separate frames. It'd cost them a small fortune to afford three of each, for a total of nine portraits, but hopefully the surveillance they could provide would be worth the price.

They'd already visited Eleazar Fig's primary portrait in the first-floor Library, and his secondary was placed in the outer wall's Southeastern flanking tower, positioned so that he could survey their territory from a window.

The Keeper watched as Sebastian's gaze drifted to the portrait of his parents that hung just across the room, on the wall a few metres from the wash closet, in view of both the dinner table and the tea corner where the throuple were having their refreshments.

While the dining hall was still in dire need of decorating, they'd already outfitted the room with an elegant mahogany dinner table and eight high backed chairs. As well as a small round tea table with four little mid backed chairs - which they were seated at - flanked by another two armchairs, and a sofa, backed up against the wall that stood between the dining hall and the workshop.

The furniture was mostly mahogany with a blend of Slytherin colours bandied about, in honour of their Hogwarts house and they felt like the portrait gave it a more homely feel. The late Mr and Mrs Sallow shared their primary frame in this hall, while their secondary was placed in the outer wall's Eastern flanking tower, and the Keeper felt a pang of sympathy at the wistful glassiness in Sebastian's eyes as he gazed at them.

Honestly, the Keeper wasn't sure they'd feel anything if they ever found a portrait of the people who'd brought them into this world, but it was nice to imagine that they would. At the very least, they'd be grateful to have had the chance to honour the unknown couple for allowing the Keeper to meet Sebastian and Ominis.

The tertiary portraits of all the artworks they owned, would be placed in the Keep tower to the northwest, in the room where Anne's tertiary portrait would be keeping a lookout, while her primary portrait was in Sebastian's study and her secondary portrait was in Ominis’ study.

This would allow the Keep tower to serve as a communication centre, so that - should any of the portraits spot something suspicious in their direction - they could alert Anne, who could then bring the information to either boy's study, or pass the message to Fig if the Keeper or their partners were in the Library, or the Sallow couple if they were in the dining hall. Not to mention, if the portraits could get the attention of the elves, it would also make it easier to send the message to the Keeper.

While they still hadn't acquired Noctua Gaunt's portrait yet, once they did, her primary portrait would be placed in Ominis’ study, with her secondary portrait placed in the outer wall's Southwestern flanking tower, to cover what was currently a blind spot.

“Will the two of you be free after tea?” Ominis asked casually. “Since your latest job is done, I thought we might take an evening constitutional down to the lake and then perhaps warm up together by the fireplace before dinner.”

The Keeper grimaced, they hated to disappoint him, but. “Sorry, I'm not sure I can afford to, I thought to have a light dinner in the dungeons so I could continue working on the collar. We have but a week left before school reopens, and I think it's more urgent that I figure out how the collar works and what makes it different from the armlet. That we may test the effects of C-Pain overdose on Macnair and put your mind at ease.”

Ominis’ lips pursed into a thin line. “Have you got any leads?”

“Not really.” The Keeper sighed, rubbing the bridge of their nose to ease the headache that was already returning. “I still have no clue what triggers the collar to activate. It just keeps injecting all the E-Pain immediately.”

Ominis heaved his own sigh as well, frustrated that he hadn't gotten to spend as much time with his workaholic partners as he'd hoped to this holiday. They were always busy with something or another, and since they'd been taking Sebastian with them to work, he'd been left alone in the quiet castle with his thoughts and worries, more often than he'd like.

At the same time, he appreciated that they were putting in all this effort with him in mind, so he couldn’t exactly begrudge them for doing what he'd asked them to. He rather resented being put in this position. Honestly, how had he ended up living with two partners, yet almost never got to go on relaxing dates with them?

“Well, I doubt I'll have much more to contribute with regards to the collar. If my lonesome would be enough, I can take that walk with you, Ominis.” Sebastian suggested tentatively, clearly hoping to take some of the pressure off the Keeper.

Ominis’ eyes widened in surprise, he’d have thought Sebastian would rather experiment with the Keeper than take a boring walk with him, and he felt a pinch of shame for feeling bad for himself and merely whinging about the situation in his mind. He’d heard the apologetic tone in the Keeper’s voice, and it wasn’t like he had any reason to feel like they just couldn’t be bothered to spend time with him, they probably weren’t eager to have dinner in a dank dungeon cell either.

Though, he knew that if he said anything, his partners would assure him that it was understandable to feel frustrated about the situation, and then offer him the choice of having them spend the evening with him or continuing their work, and he wasn’t exactly eager to take on the responsibility if his selfishness delayed their tests past the holiday.

So, folding his arms, Ominis decided to think instead, of ways to get their work done faster, so they would be free to spend more time with him. What were they least likely to have tried already? He knew the Keeper was proud, and that both they and Sebastian suffered from the tendency to forget that prior wisdom could still be useful, even if circumstances weren’t always the same.

“Have you tried asking the Elder Keepers for assistance?” Ominis suggested after a moment. “Professor Rackham was Isidora's teacher, wasn't he? Perhaps he might be able to offer some insight.”

The Keeper hummed thoughtfully and Ominis continued. “Sebastian and I can take that walk to the lake together, before warming up by the bedroom fireplace, then perhaps you can join us for dinner at least?”

“Of course.” The Keeper nodded, seeing and appreciating that he was trying to compromise. “If I manage to make some progress with the Professors and get this done quickly, we can at least spend Christmas day together next week.”

To their relief, Ominis’ face brightened at their agreement. In all honesty, the Keeper didn't think Rackham would be of much assistance, it wasn't like he'd ever interacted with Pain energy himself. Though they supposed it was possible that Fitzgerald might have some ideas, since Isidora had been closer to her, but they were also reluctant to make the cautious elders aware of their intentions to use Pain energy as a means of controlling their test subjects.

That being said however, they weren't going to make the mistake of dismissing a suggestion from Ominis out of hand, again. Especially when they could see that they were already treading on thin ice with him.

They'd just have to think of a way to broach the problem with the Elder Keepers, perhaps it wasn't the worst time to start easing the portraits into accepting the direction they were headed...

The Keeper's steps were slow and thoughtful as they made their way through the second Basement floor, before stopping outside the room that they'd placed the Elder Keepers’ portraits in, just to the left of Sebastian's study.

Knocking twice, they opened the door and poked their head in. “Professors?”

The inside of the room was rather long and, on the slightly concave false wall, stood the four portraits, whose eyes tracked the Keeper as they entered the chamber.

“Well, it's a surprise to see you outside our classes at my secondary portrait, what can we do for you?” Professor Rackham greeted with a smile.

The Keeper blinked at the professor, now that he’d mentioned it, this was indeed the first time they'd sought his counsel rather than instruction, perhaps they'd be able to use that to their advantage.

“I have acquired an artefact that was made by Ranrok and I'm struggling to figure out how it works.” The Keeper answered, bowing their head respectfully. “I was hoping to seek your guidance and experience.”

“An artefact of Ranrok's!?” Rookwood exclaimed. “How come you by such a thing?”

“His uncle happens to be Sebastian's blacksmithing mentor.” The Keeper explained, they would keep the details vague for this one, the portraits didn't need to know that they'd committed murder to acquire it.

“A goblin instructing a wizard in smithing? What an unprecedented arrangement.” Fitzgerald murmured thoughtfully.

“And why is your lover cavorting with a relative of the goblin who sought to abuse the fruits of Isidora's crimes?” Bakar, of course, demanded.

“I think it should be obvious enough that Ranrok's uncle isn't like him, given that he's teaching a human goblin-craft.” The Keeper rolled their eyes, and, to his credit, Bakar seemed to concede the point with a tilt of his head. “He knows nothing of Pain energy, so you needn't be overly concerned.”

“But what is this artefact and what do you seek to do with it?” Rackham asked with a small frown, clearly more concerned about their intentions, which was reasonable.

“It is a device designed to forcefully inject Pain energy into a person, causing pain to its wearer. However, I've been unable to figure out how to control it.” The Keeper grimaced. “It keeps injecting all the energy I place in it immediately.”

The reactions were, as expected, varying levels of outrage and shock, and the Keeper simply endured the cacophony of exclamations until the portraits stopped speaking over each other.

“That sounds to me like you're already using it!” Rookwood's voice finally rose in clarity above the rest and the Keeper sighed.

“Look, you’ve already given me ample warning that I do not know the effects of consuming this energy, that I can't control it.” The Keeper shrugged. “And you're right. I don't know, and I can't control it till I do. So, I'm finding out.”

“At the expense of someone else!?” Rookwood exclaimed, aghast.

“Should I just risk my own corruption and death then?” The Keeper snapped and the portraits went rather abruptly silent. “Shall I stroll into the maw of the unknown and leave the Repository unguarded in a room in Hogwarts, just waiting for a child to wander across?”

As they spoke, Bakar's perpetually hostile and suspicious expression seemed to change, and the Keeper thought they saw a glimmer of what looked an awful lot like respect, beginning to form in his eyes. Which was ridiculous, of course, so they pushed the thought aside and continued.

“Your trials are all solved and beaten, and you are all here, buried in a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There is no path laid out for a future Ancient Mage. You've gambled everything on me.” The Keeper spread their arms wide with a sardonic smile. “Shall I die and take it all with me to the grave?”

The room was still and silent for many long moments, as the corner the Elders had been forced into, sank in.

“If it's any consolation, the man I'm testing it on is a murderer and a cheat. A man who regularly beat his wife and starved his elf, a thief and a drunkard.” The Keeper shrugged. “And the one who will experience an overdose in my place, is the bugger who spent a year trying to kill me.”

“Committing crimes doesn't mean they deserve torture and death.” Rookwood narrowed his eyes sternly at them. “You don't have the authority to judge.”

“And who does?” The Keeper cocked an eyebrow at him. “A well-paid court judge? The victim? Let's not pretend anyone truly has the right to cast judgement, I am merely choosing to sacrifice the lesser of two evils. Or in this case, the greater of two evils. Better to sacrifice someone further down the ladder to hell, than an innocent, no?”

“Nobody should be sacrificed at all!” Rookwood declared.

“Ah yes, nobodies like Richard Jackdaw and everyone else who might have stumbled into the trial grounds, right?” The Keeper sneered. “At least I pick my victims.”

“That- that wasn't- we were doing what was necessary!” Rookwood shook his head.

“Oh, I see, that makes it alright then.” The Keeper scoffed. “Well, I've decided that this is necessary too.”

“That's why you shouldn't meddle further in this to begin with! What's necessary keeps growing!” Rookwood slammed a fist on the side of his frame. “You need to stop. If this needs sacrifices, then find another way.”

“There isn't always another way. I think that they have a point here.” To everybody's surprise, it was Bakar who spoke next, his eyes regarding Rookwood with a solemn weight. “What has four hundred years of waiting gotten us? Sometimes, one must weigh the scales and choose who should be prioritised.”

The portraits stared at Bakar, the Keeper included, before it clicked in their mind.

Bakar had chosen to cast the killing curse on Isidora, despite knowing how deeply Rackham would grieve for the child he had practically raised. Despite the dishonour of killing her from behind, for a man so proud, that must have been a difficult decision. Yet Bakar had chosen to kill the woman that he too had taught as a child, a woman who was hurt and broken, to save his friends and the innocent children of Hogwarts.

The greater of two evils.

“Thank you, Professor Bakar.” The Keeper smiled.

The man narrowed his eyes at them and folded his arms. “Don't mistake me, I still remain unconvinced that you are not merely another power-hungry craven. I simply agree that it would be in everyone's best interests to keep you alive, to safeguard the Repository. For now.”

The Keeper snorted, well, they'd take it.

“Percival, please say something.” Rookwood turned to Rackham, his voice quite distressed, and in all honesty, the Keeper was surprised that it was the affable rotund man who was so resistant. Then again, Professor Rookwood was also the one who had been swayed by his guilt for his descendant's sin of cursing Anne. Emotions were always so fickle and unpredictable.

Rackham sighed. “I'm afraid I have to agree with San Bakar...”

“...Percival...” Rookwood murmured with a frown.

“We can't pretend we didn't make the same choice.” Rackham wore a bitter smile. “Just because we didn't swing the blade ourselves, doesn't mean we didn't kill young Mr Jackdaw.”

“We must protect the Repository from falling into the hands of someone we have no influence over, or allow it to corrupt innocent children.” Fitzgerald nodded slowly. “We cannot simply wish for reality to not be as it is, we made our choice, and we must do our best with our lot.”

“We can but trust that our friend here will constrain themselves to what is needed and no more.” Rackham eyed the Keeper expectantly. “And they have not yet given us reason to doubt them.”

“Yet.” Bakar added.

Rookwood sighed. “If that is the consensus, I will protest no further, but I don't like your attitude towards sacrifice, child.”

“I'm simply used to sacrifice. Should I cry for you? We both know it wouldn't change reality.” The Keeper huffed and folded their arms. “Are we done? Can we get back to the problem at hand?”

When there came no response, the Keeper fished out a collar from their satchel and dangled it from their fingers for the portraits to see. “As you can see, there aren't any buttons on it, there's just a needle on its inner side.”

“And you say it immediately injects any energy placed in it?” Rackham pinched his chin between a thumb and forefinger.

“Yes. I need to figure out how to control its output.” The Keeper nodded. “I thought you might have some insight into the workings of such magic.”

Rackham hummed. “All Magic is neutral. Like a rock that rolls down a hill, there is no intent, simply action and reaction. You've said that Pain energy seeks out a host.”

“That's what I've observed.” The Keeper nodded again. “It seems like Pain energy is drawn to itself, not unlike gravity's pull.”

“It could be that the energy is simply following its nature in absence of human will.” Fitzgerald murmured thoughtfully.

“Indeed, it is the will of a caster that gives magic purpose. We align magic with our will.” Rackham explained.

“But that's magic that comes from us.” The Keeper frowned in some confusion. “This is Pain, an emotion, a sensation, can it even have will?”

“Is not everything humans produce part of a cycle?” Rackham asked with a small smile. “We can't cast magic if we're too weak to do so. What gives us strength? Food, water, time consumed for rest. We convert resources from the world into magic within our bodies. Every magical creature does this, even goblins.”

“Well said, Professor, even emotion comes from us and can be directed, we channel our feelings into our work, after all.” Fitzgerald agreed.

The Keeper's eyes widened, the memory of Ranrok blasting red smoky energy from his palms flashing through their mind.

“...I see! I need to absorb the energy first, align it with my will and then pour it into the vessel! Thank you, Professors!” Shoving the collar back into their satchel, the Keeper sprinted from the room, excitement pumping through their veins.

They needed to test it out. Now.

“Sorry to make you wait, Frederick, I hope you didn't need to use the loo.” The Keeper grinned as they re-entered the cell. “It'd be annoying to have to clean your mattress if you should soil yourself.”

The man watched them warily as they stood beside the cot, and they gave him a wry smirk. “Don't worry, this will be quick. I have a dinner date to get to.”

They pulled out a jar of E-Pain and took a sliver of it, breathing it into their body and holding it, like one would hold their breath, their mind filled with a single instruction; Empty all energy into subject when he speaks.

Then they placed the tip of their wand at their lips and opened their mouth, blowing the smoke back out and collecting it with their wand. The bubble of red and black smoke still looked completely unchanged, and with a pinch of anxiety, the Keeper lowered it to the collar around Frederick's neck.

The man whimpered in fear, clearly expecting the pain that would come after it was filled, though, hopefully that wouldn't happen. The energy fizzled and bubbled as it melded into the collar, and for a long anticipatory moment, the Keeper watched Frederick, half expecting him to jolt in pain.

But it didn't happen.

“Yes!” The Keeper crowed with victory and Frederick flinched at the sudden shout. “It worked!”

“Wha-” He gasped in confusion, only for the collar to click and then he was choking on the word, thrashing and wheezing with pain as the collar emptied its meagre contents into his body.

The Keeper stumbled back with a giddy laugh, they'd have to take a few minutes later to suck Ominis off for suggesting that they ask the Elder Keepers for guidance. What an amazing way to be reminded that, just because he was often swayed by emotion and could be rather irrational, that didn't mean he couldn’t also be brilliant and still be correct. God, they loved the prissy blond.

They'd probably need to have Ominis scan their body as they filled the collar to be certain, but they didn't feel like they'd taken a hit either. A pity, but at least that meant that they wouldn't need to worry about messing up their dose schedule. Thank Merlin for that too, stepping down their dosage felt god awful.

Chuckling, the Keeper extracted a larger bulb of E-Pain - a little over twice the prior amount - gazing at it and wondering to themselves how they'd portion it out. Percentage? No, that would cause each violation of instructions to have a diminishing impact. Duration of effects? Ooh, that might work, the slivers seemed to last for about ten seconds, they could go with five seconds then.

Raising the bulb to their nose, they inhaled it, instructing the energy to; Inject five seconds worth of energy every time he lifts his leg. They then placed the energy - which should be good for four injections - into the collar, amused when the man flinched, trembling as they unlocked the cuff around his ankle.

“Lift your leg.” The Keeper instructed and for a moment the man hesitated, so they pointed their wand at him. “Lift it or you'll get to see how my Cruciatus compares with my boyfriend's.”

Flinching, Frederick lifted his foot off the mattress, and it promptly slammed right back down when the collar activated. One, two, three, four, fiv-

The man coughed and wheezed as his body went limp. Excellent, that worked. Next, the Keeper bodily grabbed the man's ankle and forcefully lifted it off the mattress. Immediately, the collar activated again. So, it also applied if someone else physically forced him to take the action, now, what about magical?

“Imperio.” The Keeper levelled their wand at Frederick and a dopey grin formed on his face.

Though mildly disturbed by the expression, they went ahead and instructed him to lift his leg. The collar promptly clicked, but curiously enough, it didn't seem to cause him any pain. The man simply continued to smile like a loon. Was it because the emotional pain was being blocked by the bliss that came from the Imperius curse? Fascinating. They would have to test it further to see if it would be different with P-Pain or C-Pain.

Breaking the curse, the Keeper withdrew the last dose from the collar and inhaled it once again, this time instructing it to immediately inject once placed. When they returned it to the collar, Fredrick immediately began thrashing again. So, they could alter the instructions too, perfect.

Still, if filling the collar required that one absorb the energy first and align it, how did Gnarlak continue using it to control the dragon? The collar would surely have run out of energy over the last three years, and they couldn’t see the paranoid goblin trusting anyone else to do it for him.

Unless...

“Hold your breath, your next will hurt.” The Keeper chuckled when Frederick quickly took a breath and held it, before they released a small amount of aligned energy into the collar, instructing it to inject its entire payload if Frederick breathed.

Then they took another small bulb from the jar and lowered it into the collar as well. Several more seconds passed, before Frederick finally ran out of air and couldn't help but take a breath, and was promptly injected by the collar.

The Keeper watched with delight as the collar emptied itself in its entirety. So, mixing aligned energy with neutral energy did - in fact - cause all the neutral energy to become aligned and adopt the same orders. That was convenient, that would make it easy to top up the collars when they were running low.

Checking the time with a quick tempus, the Keeper closed the jar and shoved it back into their satchel. Waving their wand at the cuffs, they released Frederick and left him to curl up on his cot, shivering as they left the cell with a spring in their step.

If they hurried, they might be able to join the boys while the two were still warming up, and give Ominis that thank you blowjob.

Notes:

Trivial notes first;

The reason I made the Imperius curse nullify injected E-Pain is because the Imperius curse is capable of making someone even commit suicide, ignoring the pain that no doubt should be happening. It also seems like it's not any negative impact on a person that allows someone to fight it off, Harry for example, seemed to do so because he’s the main character. Honestly, Imperio is one of the most annoying spells in a world building sense (right after the Avada), like, it's supposed to be something you can gain a resistance to, and I know some people think it’s because Harry felt the bliss unnatural because he was abused, but um, then Ominis and like, a lot of people would be immune. And it can make you do superhuman things with unknown limits, it's just a real headache to work with as a writer unless you're just using it as a cheap convenient plot twister.

Also, I’m trying to use hyphens more in my writing, not sure if it’s good though, what do you guys think? Is it good, or should I just stick to tons of commas?

Okay, that's the trivial notes done, on to the serious ones!

I hope the parallel between Frederick hitting his wife and the Keeper hitting Sebastian was clear. They both did so as somewhat of an accident at the start, and the difference here is that unlike the Keeper, Frederick continued that instinctive/defensive/reactionary response of blaming the person that you just hurt, for you hurting them, because you feel guilty and need someone else to blame for your own actions.

It also doesn’t help that his wife didn’t help Fredrick come to terms with what he’d accidentally done, but that was understandable since she doesn’t have the trust in him that Sebastian has for the Keeper, especially after he tried to hit their kid. That’s why it’s important to establish trust with small things, so that when a big thing goes wrong, when you make a big mistake, as all people do, the trust and strength of the relationship can carry you through it.

Another parallel is between Sebastian and Anne and Frederick's wife. All three of them looked at someone, Sebastian at the Keeper, Anne at Sebastian, and the wife at Frederick, with fear. Unlike both Anne and Frederick's wife, Sebastian took the effort to reach the Keeper, to understand them and was willing to take the pain that comes with helping someone in distress.

(Though I think Frederick's wife has more cause to fear Frederick than Anne did Sebastian. Like, Anne, Sebastian was defending you, not attacking your baby.)

That's why Sebastian gets love, while Anne gets a dead Solomon, and Frederick's wife gets a dead husband haha

Also, like, Anne, you were giving Sebastian mixed signals, like you essentially tell Sebastian “cure me pls” and not give him boundaries, and Solomon is trying to stop Sebastian from curing you. Obviously, in order to fulfil your wish, he's gotta take Solomon out of the equation. You can't have your cake and eat it gurl.

Actions and words matter, and when they don't match up, it creates doubt, uncertainty and unreliability. Communicating and working hard to maintain trust is vital to any relationship, the moment you slack off, it’ll start sliding downhill. You don’t get married and stop courting your partner, you don’t just bank on the blood ties between family, and you can’t expect past goodwill to keep a friendship healthy, Sebastian.

The only reason Ominis was even considering sending Sebastian to Azkaban was because his trust and goodwill for Sebastian had been slipping. Sebastian was so focused on saving Anne that he stopped putting effort into keeping Ominis’ trust high. It’s not enough to not be mad at Ominis for not supporting you, Sebastian, he needs to feel valued.

But, at the same time, it wasn’t like Sebastian could spare the energy to be a good friend, not while going mad over trying to save his sister, so, it’s the kinda thing where nobody’s really the asshole, the situation just sucks.

Anyway, like with Macnair and Selwyn, like with Frederick, the root of evil acts is often banal, benign, until it isn't. It starts out subtle, disregard for some people because they don't fit your idea of normal or correct or worthy of respect. Because they don't make sense in your world view. It always starts small.

I think it should be (hopefully) pretty clear that the Keeper's anger at Frederick here, is not entirely just because he forced Tobbs to stay in the cave where he eventually died. It's the indicator of a lack of care about another life that is so deep seated, that Frederick can't even see anything wrong with his mentality. It bleeds into the rest of his life and behaviour, the way he hurts others with his selfishness.

Much like how the reason we throw the entire piece of bread away is not because of the slight dusting of mold on the corner. We throw it away because that visible mold is an indicator that the rest of the bread already has poisonous roots spread all over its insides. His words and actions are an indicator of a corruption inside that is almost impossible to be cleansed, especially if the person doesn't see anything wrong with his state.

Hypocrisy, apathy, indifference, disregard for empiricism, unrestrained reactionary responses, aversion to critical thought and introspection.

These are some of the hardest elements of human nature to shake when they have taken over the brain because they make it harder for the person to want to change especially if they've driven away the people with the strongest natural ties (family and childhood friends) and highest chance of convincing them through emotional attachment.

Why is emotional attachment the most likely to convince them to change? Because people like that tend to have a more active amygdala (the emotional center of the brain).

I like to believe it's possible, but... well. Difficult. At least. And the Keeper definitely doesn't have the grounds to do that. They're equally as fucked in the apathy and indifference towards harming others category. They're too angry. Yet another product of pain, of suffering.

But whether we can save these people or not, whether they can change or not is not the point. Criminals and the insane are humans too. Human rights do not end once a person's convicted, the law isn't perfect and there are 100% innocent people sitting in jail.

The Keeper then, at least, acknowledges that they could very easily have been Frederick. That they too, have the seeds of apathy within them. That's step one. Being able to see yourself as the person you hate. Being able to see how easily you could have ended up being like that too. How anyone and everyone could have been like that too.

If we are stronger, it's entirely because we were lucky enough to be. Lucky to have the genes we do, or the mind we were born with, or the parents we were born to, or the country or time we were born in. It is arrogance to take full credit for any strength one has.

Nobody can say “I wouldn't have done that in your shoes”, because I am not in your shoes, I am not in your mind, I am not in your body, I do not have your genes, I do not have your history, I am not you.

The only person you can judge is yourself.

What we can say, is “You shouldn't have done that, here's why, now we need to fix it. Will you help me? If yes, great, let's fix it together. If no, then alright, sit over here and reflect on the reason I gave you, while I fix it for you.”

I believe in rehabilitation, redemption and basic human rights. If a person cannot help but cause harm, that doesn't mean we shame them for it and punish them for it. We stop them for the greater good and treat them with as much kindness and respect as possible, while confining them for the safety of the public. We do not call them “stubborn” or “evil” even if they are legitimately beyond saving.

It's natural to feel negatively towards people like Frederick or even the Keeper, but we must both acknowledge and then look past the natural disgust, anger, revulsion and the fear that comes from intuitively understanding that "I could easily be that person".

We mustn't give in to the impulse to say "you must deserve your unfortunate circumstances. That's why I need not fear becoming you, because I am good, I am better than you, and I don't deserve your life."

Monsters are made, not born.

And crying about the monsters that have already been made or attacking them for existing, doesn't do anything. That just makes the monsters more monstrous.

We should try, to help the monsters we can, restrain them with as much dignity as we can afford them, but as I've said before, the best way is to prevent them from existing to begin with. Take away the factors that create people like Frederick. Take away the factors that create people like the Keeper. And, despite how hot they are when angry, Sebastian and Ominis too.

Of course, that's not to say that we should endanger ourselves for others either, we should do what we can within our means. I'm not gonna pull the trolley problem, but take for example, if a person was hanging off a cliff, and saving them would endanger you because you don't have safety measures, I think it's well within your right to not attempt to save them.

But if you have a safety harness and there's no danger or cost to yourself, you really should help that person, because you would really appreciate that if you were the one hanging on that cliff. If you can save the person without danger, and your job is rescuing people, and you don't rescue that person, not only are you not doing your job, that's called negligent manslaughter.

So, yeah, it's sad when we see a tragedy like Frederick, whose life simply did not equip him with the tools or the support needed for him to change. His parents died, his adoptive parents failed to guide him, his wife who had the greatest opportunity to help him, unfortunately, did not have the awareness to know how to help and was too afraid to and he ended up in the hands of people, uninterested in offering him a second chance.

It's honestly not that different from the malice of Macnair and Selwyn, directing all their anger and hate in the wrong direction while Frederick flees from all his problems.

Sebastian had the Keeper and Ominis to give him his second chance and support. Eliza had Ominis give her a second chance and James’ support. Those are examples of the significance of having BOTH second chances and support. Second chances without proper support are useless.

Without the right support, Frederick only ever did his best for himself in an immediate sense, and spent barely any effort on self-improvement, whereas Sebastian was constantly trying to grow. People can't think of others’ suffering when they themselves are suffering. When everyone's lives are better, that empowers them to extend empathy and grace to others.

And while the Keeper doesn't think to this extent because they're not as aware of how the system works, even if you don't think ignoring something bad “hurts you” directly, the way the system works is that, irresponsibility and disregarding other people's suffering, will still eventually come back to bite you in the ass one way or another. The more times you turn away when shit happens, the worse things get.

A quick example is homelessness, if you ignore them, they just get more desperate and aggressive, and they stress the typical citizen with fear of becoming them. If the homeless were given proper care and homes, they can contribute to society, which improves everybody's lives.

Also, while we're absolutely sculpted by our circumstances and environment, the same circumstance doesn't always create the same result. What works for me doesn't necessarily work for you. Putting someone through your own suffering will not necessarily turn them into you. A concept all parents should really be taught.

A pair of identical twins are still different people even if their genes are almost the same, even if they grew up the same way with the same people. If we met ourselves in a parallel universe, or even our past selves, we're still different people.

So, key takeaway is this, don't coat things you do in the clothing of righteousness to feel better about yourself. Nobody is better than anyone else, regardless of how much smarter or skilled or educated. One can be more qualified for an action or decision, but everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. Even a judge in a court is not a god bringing divine righteousness down on the sinners.

One can be superior or inferior in an area, a skill, in knowledge. But no person is themselves superior or inferior to others. Once you start thinking it's possible, well, it's a slippery slope and you won't notice yourself sliding down it till you reach the end, and can no longer recognise yourself in the mirror.

Also, I just realised, I basically turned Sebastian's questline into Arcane. (Which I binged from start to finish a few weeks ago, it's so good, I highly recommend it!) (SPOILER WARNING FOR ARCANE! For the first 4 episodes or so.) Sebastian is Powder, the one who killed someone while trying his/her best, the one who only wanted to help. Anne is Vi, blaming Powder/Sebastian for Vander/Solomon's death and leaving Powder/Sebastian broken and pleading for her to come back because they need her. The Keeper is Silco, the one who's fucked up in the head and what people might consider a "bad person", but who is trying their best in their own way and whose love is very real. The one who would do anything for Powder(Jinx)/Sebastian. The one who understands, protects, and supports Jinx/Sebastian, and thinks Jinx/Sebastian are perfect the way they are. Ominis is Ekko, the one who lives with regret for the choices he made that contributed to the disaster that happened in the cannery/catacombs.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

The Royal Romance Masterlist 2024

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨= Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA

May 2024

Week ending May 25, 2024

A Child of Babel ✒️🏳‍🌈 | Hana Lee x Kiara Theron - @lizzybeth1986

All That She Wants (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️ | Multiple Pairings - @angelasscribbles Chapter 7: Now What? Liam Rys x Olivia Nevrakis Chapter 8: Conversations Liam Rys x F!MC, Drake Walker x F!MC Chapter 9: Confrontation Liam Rys x F!MC, Drake Walker x F!MC, Liam Rys x Olivia Nevrakis

Princessa Real (Series) ✒️ | Liam x MC - @belencha77 Chapter 23: El Tiempo se Acerca Chapter 24: Cazando Por Amor

Laylat al-Henna ✒️🏳️‍🌈 | Hana Lee x Kiara Theron - @lizzybeth1986

Marabelle (AU Series) ✒️ | Liam Rys x F!OC - @tessa-liam Chapter 12: Long Live the King

Week ending May 18, 2024

All That She Wants (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️ | Multiple Pairings - @angelasscribbles Chapter 6: Unvarnished Truths Liam Rys x F!MC, Drake Walker x F!MC

Princessa Real (Series) ✒️ | Liam x MC - @belencha77 Chapter 18: Fiesta En La Playa Chapter 19: Cascada Del Olvido Chapter 20: La Manzana De Su Ojo Chapter 21: Una Noche Para Recordar Chapter 22: Tan Dulce Como un Pie

Week ending May 11, 2024

Week ending May 4, 2024

April 2024

Behind Closed Doors (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🏳️‍🌈| Maxwell Beaumont x MC, Liam Rys x Maxwell Beaumont - @angelasscribbles Chapter 1: The Invitation

A Bird in Hand ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @angelasscribbles

Catch & Release ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x MC, Drake Walker x MC - @dcbbw

Dance Under the Rainbow 🎨🏳️‍🌈 | Hana Lee x MC - @uselessgay10101

Forevermore (Series) ✒️ | King Marquise (Liam) x F!MC - @khoicesbyk Chapter 5: Joy of Winter

TRR Complete List Week Ending 4/27/2024

March 2024

The DeFacto Queen (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x MC, Drake Walker x MC - @angelasscribbles Chapter 5: Come Together

Capitulo 3: Adios New York ✒️| Liam Rys x F!MC - @belencha77

Capitulo 4: Bienvenidos a Cordonia ✒️| Liam Rys x F!MC - @belencha77

Capitulo 5: Noche Especial✒️| Liam Rys x F!MC - @belencha77

Once Upon a Time, Book 1. Ch. 1 (Part 7) ✒️| Liam Rys, Drake Walker, etc. - @fadingreveries

Best Kept Secrets (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Liam Rys x F!OC - @ao719 Chapter 19: Built to Last

Cinderfella's Adventures in Cordonia (Series) ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Liam Rys x M!MC - @justcallmefox89 Chapter 20

Forevermore (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys (King Marquise) x F!MC - @khoicesbyk Chapter 5: Joy of Winter

Fruit of Her Loins ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys - @littleredroseonthevalley

Ghosted (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x MC - @kristinamae093 Chapter 11: Altering Visions

Hirbawi ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Drake Walker x MC - @petiteboheme

Maxwell Beaumont x MC 🎨by @bombomangooo

Midnights Like This (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔥🔹| Leo Rys x F!OC, Liam Rys x F!MC - @queenrileyrose Part 15: Hold Me Tight

Princesa Real (Series) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @belencha77 Chapter 1: El Amor no Existe Chapter 2: Erase Una Vez 🔹

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch1: Once Upon a Time (Pt. 1) ✒️ | Multiple Characters - @fadingreveries

The Royal Romance: Once Upon a Time (Chapter 2) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @fadingreveries

The Royal Romance Book 1, Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time Part 6 ✒️ | Liam Rys x MC - @fadingreveries

Savage Love (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x MC, Drake Walker x MC - @angelasscribbles Chapter 37: Gone

Second Chance Love (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔥 | Liam Rys x MC, Liam Rys x F!OC - @mysticalfangirl Part 1

Secrets Behind Their Eyes Ch. 1 & 2✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys, Drake Walker, Maxwell Beaumont - @fancy--marshmallow

Secrets Behind Their Eyes Ch. 3 ✒️| Liam Rys, Drake Walker, Maxwell Beaumont - @fancy--marshmallow

Turning the Page (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x F!OC - @tessa-liam Chapter 11: A Step Back in Time

Vancross (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️| Liam Rys x F!OC - @ao719 Chapter 23: Rescue You

You Belong to Me (Series) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC, Drake Walker x F!MC - @queenrileyrose Part One: I Wonder What's Mine

February 2024

Can't Take My Eyes Off of You - Part 5✒️| Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis - @alj4890

Cordonian Karaoke (Series) ✒️🔹| Drake Walker, Liam Rys, MC - @angelasscribbles Riley Take 4

Hana Take 3 ✒️🏳️‍🌈🔹| Hana Lee x MC, Drake Walker x MC - @angelasscribbles

Goodbyes Are the Hardest ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @silvermillenniumqueenneptune

Marabelle: The Game of Kings ✒️💘🔹| Liam Rys x F!MC - @tessa-liam

My Lonely Valentine: The Agreement ✒️💘Ⓜ️ 🔥🔹| Liam Rys x MC - @angelasscribbles

Olivia Nevrakis Fanart 🎨by @artbyalz

Round Robin Chapter 1: Welcome ✒️🔹- @angelasscribbles

Side by Side (Series) ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @ownworldresident Chapter 9: Renewal

Single Again ✒️🔹| Liam Rys x MC - @angelasscribbles

Staking a Claim ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Drake Waker x MC - @angelasscribbles

Turning the Page (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Liam Ry Chapter 10: Somewhere Only We Know

Vancross (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Liam Rys x F!OC - @ao719 Chapter 22: My Way Back to You

Wild Ride: A Bad Romance Prequel One-Shot ✒️Ⓜ️🔥🔹| Liam Rys x MC - @angelasscribbles

January 2024

Week ending January 6, 2024

The Best Mistake He Never Had (Series) ✒️| Drake Walker x MC - @camillemontespan Part Four

Traditions ✒️🌟| Liam Rys x MC - @bebepac

Unexpected (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️ | Liam Rys x MC, Maxwell Beaumont x MC - @angelasscribbles Chapter 10: The Truth Comes Out Chapter 11: Let's Be Happy

What's Already Mine ✒️| Liam Rys x MC - @ao719

Week ending January 13, 2024 Complete List

Week ending January 20, 2024

Anything But Common (Series) ✒️🏳️‍🌈| Hana Lee & MC - @silvermillenniumqueenneptune Magical Misadventures in Miscellany

Liam Rys Fanart 🎨 by @bayleedraws-sometimesx

Marabelle (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Liam Rys x MC - @tessa-liam Chapter 9: The Awakening

Midnights Like This ✒️🔹| Leo Rys x MC - @queenrileyrose Chapter 14: Falling Like Stars

Single Mom ✒️🔹| Liam Rys x MC - @dcbbw

You Can Tell Me Anything ✒️| Drake Walker x F!MC - @camillemontespan

Week ending January 27, 2024

Best Kept Secrets (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| Liam Rys x F!MC - @ao719 Chapter 18: Maybe We'll Get it Right

Daylight ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| TRR MC x ? - @angelasscribbles

Forevermore (Series) ✒️Ⓜ️🔹| King Marquise (Liam) x MC - @khoicesbyk Chapter 4a: The Princess Diary, Part 1 Chapter 4b: The Princess Diary, Part 2

[thatonethimbo]

Thatonethimbo's fic + important stuff masterlist (Will be edited as we go)

My rules

All fics here, unless stated otherwise, are GN!Reader

PBB

PBB fic w/ Reader Insert

The World Gets Colder, Bit By Bit (Route 14 fic) [Pt. 1]

Contrasting States (Route 14 fic, cont) [Pt. 2]

The Frost Bites With No Teeth (Route 14 fic, final) [Pt.3]

Tess x Reader HCs + Oneshot

LL: VOS

''what the jake doin' ''

Crystallized, Under The Weight of The Nothingness [Pt. 1]

Crystallized, Under The Weight of The Nothingness [Pt. 2]

HCs (PBB)

Chad + Quenton

Art (PBB)

My version of the PBB protagonist

Bermuda Autism Creechure

Double-Edged Fate

The Bottle and The Brick

Museums Hold Not Only History But Also Danger

I got banned from Roblox for 1 day (but here's some art)

Ninjago

Ninjago fic w/ reader insert and x gn!reader

Lachesis (Hurt/comfort) Time Twins

A Random Nya x Reader

Shackles Broken, Enemy Awoken

Brookestone Family Recipe

Best Golden Weapon Poll

Trust Rusts Away Into Distrust (Ch. 1)

Art (Ninjago)

''Inaccurate'' Kai

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, April 7

BUFFY: Y'know, I never stopped thinking about you. RILEY: Me neither. All I had in there was this one little part of you. (Gives her bandana piece) BUFFY: It's just the scarf part of me really. RILEY: Sure it is. Just knowing you were out there...that you cared...

~~This Year's Girl~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Pieces by CoffeeHunt (Fanged Four, M)

Research by skargasm (Xander/Spike, T)

Poem: the spark by LiraelClayr007 (Buffy/Spike, T)

Untitled ("big anya problem") by scooby-group-texts (Xander/Anya, not rated, worksafe, posted as an image)

Partly Cloudly, Eclipse 1999 by Saranac (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

First Day by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy, anthology rated PG-13)

Me and My Shadow by Chelle (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Chaptered Fiction]

Surviving Together, Ch. 17 by ionlylikebadboys (Buffy/Spike, Adult Only)

Something Lost Something Found, Ch. 8 by Safire (Buffy/Spike, R)

Love Lives Here, Ch. 46 by Passion4Spike (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Rebehold the Stars (Love from the Other Side of the Apocalypse) Ch. 11 by Asokatanos (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Wilderness Retreat OR Super Mega Happy Kill-A-Rama! Ch. 3 by Melme1325 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Gargoyle, Ch. 2 by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Boyfrenemy, Ch. 5-8 by Lady Emma (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Celebrating You, Ch. 5 by DeamonQueen (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Scoobies in Neptune, Ch. 30 by Buffyworldbuilder (Veronica Mars crossover, FR7)

When Ethan Rayne made Rambo, Ch. 9 by SplitEnz (Rambo crossover, Xander, FR15)

An odd Couple of grumpy old Brits, Ch. 11 by Julikobold (Giles & Spike, Buffy/Spike, G)

Forgiveness Doesn't Come Easy, Ch. 29 by Slaymesoftly (Buffy/Spike, R)

To All We Guard, Ch. 11 by simmony (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Perfect Clarity, Ch. 25 by VeroNyxK84 (Buffy/Spike, R)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Tarot card design: Andrew my little strudel Page of Cups by isevery0nehereverystoned (worksafe)

Meme: Positive reminders 🫶 by shewhosleepsalotincemeteries (Faith, probably worksafe, canon-typical manslaughter)

Giles/Jenny screencaps captioned with text posts by vampswritings (probably worksafe, somewhat nsfw text in a small font)

I tried drawing Drusilla from memory. Thoughts? by Coochie_Von_Moochie (worksafe)

Queer Buffyverse Moodboards by MadeInGold (Buffy, Dawn, Darla, G)

[Reviews & Recaps]

Fredless by evolutionleftovers

Buffy S7E2: Beneath You | Booze & Buffy

Superstar by Buffy the Vampire Straya

Pop Culture Role Call: Angel Series & Buffyverse Wrap-Up

[Recs & In Search Of]

All time favourite Spuffy fanfics recced by williamprattz

[Community Announcements]

alexsrousseau made an 18+ Buffy/Giles BtVS server

[Fandom Discussions]

People are too harsh about Kennedy from btvs by explosionshark

So Jesse’s death was supposed to be a twist right? by nicnacsnonsense

Watching the episode with Marcie... by nicnacsnonsense

I feel like ppl write the Slayer off too quickly. by theredpharaoah

I was thinking about Willow's will-be-done spell from S4... by ashmaenas

Re: favorite BTVS character arc? by breathing-and-stuff

Xander becomes such a compelling character when you imagine... by felixsfishnets

AU... where Spike is just a little more overtly bisexual than he is in canon, and Andrew gets turned... by lierdumoa

Re: If you could have given Riley a B-plot in an episode he didn't have one... by riley-summers

Riley ship opinions, pt. 3, Polyship edition by riley-summers

Tara and Riley friendship headcanons by riley-summers

Andrew - comic man-child or naive nuisance? (cont'd) by multiple people

Re: Where are people from, do they write, and has upbringing or location affected their work? by DeepBlueJoy

Which [AtS] “bad guy” character deserved another chance? by buffyangel468

willow x faith could have actually worked by Saturneinyourhead

How do the vampire origins, ubervamps, The Master, and Kakistos all work together in the Buffyverse lore? by cre8ivemind

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