#i am RAVENOUS to see the final fic

[daryascurse]

Hi ! ! For The Cabin event I want to do Jean Kirstein from Attack on Titan, premise: summer internship that is actually a cult. Slasher (with possible supernatural themes). Can I join with this idea? Also, is there a word count limit?

!! OH!! OH this is a very very nice idea!!!! oh WOW YES!!!! My brain is churning and I am so excited for this!!!

No word count limit though no! Go WILD 😛

⛱️🏕️🪓 COME TO THE CABIN THIS SUMMER

[tojipie]

prison bf series linked here !

hii ! not rly phone sex, but sex nonetheless. i’m rly loving this series <33 prison toji unboxing fic coming someday in the distant future.

content: nsfw + phone sex

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the sudden vibrations of your phone’s ringer rips you from the boundary between sleep and awareness. you groggily reach for the device from it’s place under your pillow, clicking the off button twice to end the call.

the number rings again, then a third time before you finally pick up, ready to tear into the poor soul on the other line. it’s a facetime call from an area code you don’t recognize, probably just a misdial if you’re lucky.

you hesitantly accept and tilt the camera towards the ceiling, shielding your face from the stranger.

“hello..?” you mumble sleepily, trying to get a good look at your phone without revealing too much of yourself. the person’s screen is grainy from the lack of light, probably calling you on an older model.

the stranger’s camera pans down, revealing familiar tufts of straight raven hair. toji stares up at you from his bunk, shirtless with the sheets bunched up to his chest.

“you too good to pick up the phone now?” he asks, clearly teasing. the inmate’s voice is quiet, coming out in choppy rivets as his dated microphone picks up what it can.

“toji!?” you whisper scream, sitting up to turn your beside lamp on. the additional light helps illuminate your figure better, you notice his eyes perk up at the clearer sight of you.

“mmmh, happy to see you babydoll.” he grins, leaning closer to get a good look at you. your eyes are puffy with the promise of rest, giving you that extra bought of softness he loves so much.

“oh shit, were you sleeping? m’ sorry.”

he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“nono i’m awake.” you reassure the older man, taking in the sight of him laid out on the narrow cot. your boyfriend had aged since the beginning of his sentence, though you figure that’s not out of the ordinary for someone serving time. “how’d you even get a phone?”

“s’ a secret.” he muses, clearly finding the situation amusing. “i get to talk to my baby though, isn’t that nice?” he states plainly, shifting to prop his head up with his hand.

“it is, actually.” you mumble apologetically, feeling bad at your initial lack of a greeting. “m’ happy you called me.”

you pause, choosing your next words carefully “don’t you have bunkmates?” you wonder, searching the background for any signs of other men in the dark cell. the promise of being ratted out by a cell mate was one that wouldn’t end well for either of you.

“nah, lawyers said i’m too dangerous to be staying in D-block with everyone.” he states boredly, shifting again to lie on his back with a grunt.

“wh— are you serious?” you whine, already mulling over the countless conversations you’ve had with him regarding his nasty fighting habit.

“pfttt, no?” the inmate chuckles, throwing his head back with a hearty laugh. “last guy in the cell got out on wednesday, ‘s just me in here till’ my sentence is up.”

he stills, looking you up and down quickly.

"fuck." he grumbles, you look real pretty right now."

you sigh in relief, ignoring the compliment to continue grilling him. “so you’ve been getting along with people?” you ask, skill skeptical.

“you know—hah- how i am.” he tells you, clearing his throat before continuing. the screen begins to wobble a little, blurring his figure for a moment. “when have i —fuck- ever been out of line, huh? ”

“i think you were pretty out of line when you went to fucking jail.” you tease, pausing to analyze his hurried breaths on the other line.

“toji? do you feel ok?” you ask, wishing you were there to check up on him.

“yeah—mmgh- why? his camera starts to pan up shakily, phone slipping from his hand. the last of his facade shatters as a pleased groan rings out in the tiny cell.

“fuck.” he whines, “fuck— oh my god. you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

“show me.” you command, finally piecing everything together.

the older man flips the camera and brings it right up to his hard cock, stroking it from the base up with vigor.

his tip is an angry pink, weeping milky precum down his shaft to glaze his knuckles. the sounds coming from your phone are absolutely filthy, a hot mix of pants, groans and expletives .

“oh my god.” you giggle, propping your phone up to watch better. “is that all for me?” the dips and hills of his abs jolt as he laughs.

“all for you.” he pants, bucking his hips up every time his fist meets his tip.

“is this why you called me?” you tease, watching his cock bob back and forth in his hand. the older man stops to thumb his slit, massaging milky pre into the tip before starting up again. “you just wanted to get off? didn’t wanna talk to me or nothing?”

“no—hah. i mean—.” he groans, clearly too out of it to answer. “fuck. fuck i’m close.”

you squeeze your legs together to quell the ache between your thighs, content to just watch him enjoy himself.

sharing a room with 4 other people means little to no time alone, that much you knew from your visits. it wasn’t rare for him to pitch a tent during your supervised phone calls, squeezing his cock behind a glass barrier while you gushed about your day.

a hearty groan knocks your train of thought loose as ropes of cum stream down his knuckles and onto the sheets. you watch in awe as he milks his dick, slapping it onto his stomach for the added simulation.

you wait until his breaths even out to speak, watching him grab a towel from off camera to clean himself up.

“feel better?” you ask, so badly wishing you were there to kiss him in the midst of his afterglow.

“so much better.” he sighs, shifting to lay on his side again.

“they definitely heard you. i mean those rooms don’t have doors right?”

“of course they fucking have doors.” he grumbles, clearly embarrassed at the thought of getting caught dick-in-hand.

“did you..” he trails off, rubbing his eyes with a soft yawn.

“too tired.” you state plainly, shifting the focus from your pleasure to his.

“i don’t deserve you.” he mumbles, dark eyes barely open.

“course you do baby.” you whisper. “you wanna head to bed? i’m coming up on thursday to visit.”

“you are?” the excitement in his voice is adorable.

“mhm, might even bring you a charger for that piece of shit burner you swiped.”

the jab earns you a booming laugh, lulling you back to the precipice of sleep.

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tag list ! <3 🏷️

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[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Sending Aemond dirty letters by raven while you are away at Dragonstone. She is betrothed to another Lord’s son, but they see each other whenever she visits. He fucks her hard as punishment for sending the letters

Request: Imagine Aemond bejng completely enthralled by reader soft skin and perfumed hair. You can make it a smut if you want to.

Request: Fic request - Luke discovers Aemond x Reader/OC (his sister) having sex outside of marriage

Warnings: 18+, smut, p + v, implied cheating, caught,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

In honor of the King’s fiftieth name day, lords, knights and their families from all over the realm traveled to the capital for a celebratory tourney. 

The guest wing of the Red Keep was already full when you arrived, forcing you and your family to be moved to the royal quarters. This tourney was going to be massive. 

‘’I heard Lord Tully’s son is participating in the tourney,’’ Rhaenyra said, giving you a knowing look. ‘’You should make a special flower crown in case he wins and ask for your favor.’’ 

The mention of your betrothed left you indifferent. You had seen Lord Tully’s son two times since the betrothal. The first time was during the royal hunt two years ago and the second was at a feast where he asked you for a dance. For you, it was just a dance, but your mother saw an opportunity to offer your hand to the Tully boy.

‘’I am taking Aegon and Viserys to see your grandsire, are you accompanying me?’’ 

You declined and told her you wanted to lay down before supper, feeling tired from the travel. 

‘’Tell Grandsire I will see him later,’’ you added with a sweet smile.

Rhaenyra nodded and you headed to the royal quarters. As you walked down the corridor, you walked past Aemond’s and excitement filled your stomach. You hadn’t seen him in months. You knocked gently, but the prince was unfortunately not there. He must be in the training for the tourney. 

Looking on both sides of the corridor, you saw no guards. Carefully, you pushed the door open and stepped in, writing a small note on Aemond’s desk, telling him to meet you in your chambers after his training.  

You exited Aemond’s chamber quietly, and scurried to your own, a devilish idea sparking up your mind. 

A rush of anticipation coursed through you as you closed the heavy wooden door behind you with a quiet thud. You had no idea how long you had left until Aemond would return, so you disrobed completely, and waited on your bed for him. 

Your hair was down and cascading in waves down your back, accompanied by a few braids at the front to keep it your face — exactly the way Aemond liked. You even added rose oil to your hair in the morning, and put on the earrings he had gifted you for your eight and ten nameday. 

Minutes turned into what felt like hours as you waited, the silence of the room amplifying every creak and distant murmur from the corridors. If anyone were to walk in, they wouldn’t be able to see you from the door. Not right away. The bed had drapes on the bedposts and was situated on the right wall of the room, shielding you completely from the view. 

Finally, you heard footsteps approaching. Your heart skipped a beat as you heard a knock on the door. A second knock followed — your secret signal — and when you didn't answer, Aemond pushed the door open and stepped inside. He closed the door quietly behind him, taking a quick glance around. No sign of you. 

He wondered if he’d missed you or if you were elsewhere in the chambers — mayhaps in the bath. Then, he heard someone clear their throat from the right. Aemond  turned, his gaze narrowing in surprise when he finally saw you on the bed in all your naked glory. He felt his throat go dry and his breeches suddenly felt tighter.

‘’Hello, my prince.’’ Your voice was sweet and innocent, but the smirk on your lips was not.

Aemond stood there speechless, his eye roaming over your body, taking in the sight before him. He thought you looked more beautiful than ever, sitting there against the velvet bedding and ornate cushions waiting for him like a gift. 

He gathered his bearings and stepped closer to the bed. His eye traveled down the length of your body before returning to your face. He’s dreamed of you every night since Heleana’s nameday in the spring; your sweet laugh, the smell of roses on your hair, the pink shade of your lips and the way they felt against this, your perfect and soft breasts, the tightness of your cunt — the most perfect cunt. 

‘’Missed me?’’ you asked.

‘’You certainly did,’’ Aemond returned, slowly walking closer until he was at the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving your body. ‘’Have you gone mad? Sending me scandalous letters via ravens… What if someone else had read them?’’ 

You let out a soft smirk, unbothered by his reprimand. ‘’Has anyone read them?’’ 

Aemond shook his head, his jaw clenching. ‘’I’d take the eyes of anyone who would dare reading those letters.’’ 

You chuckled, a playful glimmer in your eyes. ‘’Possessive much?’’

He’s been looking forward to the tourney specifically so he could strike at your betrothed without facing consequences. 

‘’You’re a sight,’’ he muttered, his voice hoarse. ‘’Waiting for me like this, bare and ready to be taken…’’ He grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed, right in front of him.

You let out a gasp, your breath catching in your throat at his words and arousal pooling between your legs. You liked it when he talked like this — dirty and possessive. It contrasted with his usual composed and cold demeanor. 

You pushed yourself up on your knees and placed your hands gently on his shoulders. ‘’You like this?’’ you asked, looking up at him while your fingers began to unbuckle his jerkin. You pushed it off him, revealing a white undershirt under it, damp with sweat from training. 

He should have bathed before coming to you, but knowing you were at the Keep made his mind spin. His hands reached for your hips, holding onto you, before crashing his mouth on yours. 

You pulled at his undershirt until he fell on the bed with you, losing yourself in his kisses. 

''I need you,'' you said against his lips. ''I need you now.''

Aemond growled in response, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth. ‘’So impatient, so eager.''

He sat up and pulled his undershirt over his head, revealing broad shoulders covered in muscle and a softly defined chest. Lower, a line of silver hair was going down his breeches. You licked your lips, knowing what was hidden under. 

Not wasting time with his boots and breeches, Aemond unlaced the latter and pulled them down to his mid-thighs, his cock springing up from its confinement. He gave it a few tugs, the tip red and leaking. You reached for it, but Aemond slapped your hand away and commanded you to get on your fours. 

You positioned yourself and waited, the anticipation making your heart race. Your cunt was wet and begging for Aemond to fill it up. 

The bed creaked as he moved behind you, his hands gliding over your hips before gripping them firmly. He teased you for a moment, swiping his finger along your slick folds and giving it a light smack, making you gasp and push back against him. 

Soon enough, the room was filled with the sounds of your mewls mixing with Aemond’s grunts every time his pelvis smacked against your ass. You always found this position too animalistic, but you could feel Aemond’s cock hit so deep inside you that you forgot about the dogs. He gripped your hips tighter, his movements growing more urgent.

‘’Yes, Aemond! Right there!’’ you gasped, your back arching as you felt the coil in your stomach get tighter and tighter. 

Just as you were on the brink of release, the door to your chambers flew open. Lucerys stood, dumbfounded, with his hand still on the latch of the open door, frozen in place. Neither you nor Aemond appeared to have noticed your little brother’s sudden arrival, too caught up in your activities.

‘’Luke!’’ you shouted, when you spotted your brother in the doorway, your eyes wide and startled. 

Behind you, Aemond’s head whipped around to look at the door, his eye falling on Lucerys. Fuck. He thought of pulling out, but Lucerys had already blurted out a ‘’I’m sorry!’’ and shut the door, horrified by what he just saw. 

The poor boy will never erase the image of his sister on her fours with their uncle’s cock drilling into her relentlessly.

—

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[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

'Fake' Feelings

Zuko x Reader

Summary- In a pinch, you have to pretend to be in a relationship with Zuko. Little do you know it was never pretend for Zuko.

A/N- HAPPY BIRTHDAY @thethreeeyed-raven!!!!! This isn't my typical fandom as y'all know. I wrote this as a birthday gift to my best best best online friend. SHE'S AWESOME. Go check her fics out <3<3! CONTAINS A SINGLE BAD WORD >:)

Word Count- 2,468

"Mai, I already told you. I can't be with you!" Zuko was getting frustrated. While he did love Mai at one point, that was a long time ago. Zuko was now the Fire Lord, their relationship seemed like ages ago.

"And why not Zuko? We've been through this a hundred times. You always come running back, you're so pathetic. May as well cut the middle part and we can act like nothing happened." She stepped closer, pressing herself on his arm. "Like we always do..."

Zuko had finally realized how Mai controlled him. When he was weaker he was naive, now he knew what he wanted. Someone who never put him down, someone who never called him 'Pathetic.'

You.

He immediately thought of you. How you were so strong, but never put others down to feel powerful. How you always spoke your mind, but only out of the kindness you hid deep down.

Your walls were built up so high, but he knew who you were. He knew how beautiful you were.

"I can't be with you because I'm dating someone else." The words left his mouth faster than he could think.

This stopped Mai in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you're not the only one I am allowed to go out with. We've been broken up for awhile now." Zuko was no longer on the defense, but the attack.

"You do know that I am the only one who could love you. Who could love a traitor, a banished prince. Who else, huh?" Her arms were crossed, a smirk on her face. She knew she outwitted him.

Releasing his bit lip, Zuko exclaims your name.

Her face dropped. She knew exactly who you were. She was furious.

"We'll see about that..." With that, she left the room.

You were on your way to visit Zuko, one of your closest friends, for a 'friend reunion' Sokka had planned. You were of course excited to see him after so long. Though, the ride on Appa was miserable. About a hundred "are we there yet"s and "I'm hungry"s from Sokka.

The five of you- Sokka, Toph, Katara, and Aang made it safely to The Fire Nation shortly.

Upon landing, a man in red robes greeted everyone.

"The Fire Lord sends his deepest regards, as he could not see to you himself. You are instructed to follow me to your rooms." He had a stoic expression, but you guessed he greeted people all the time.

Oh well, Zuko must be very busy as a Fire Lord. You were sad, but couldn't blame him.

What you didn't know was that Zuko was pacing his room, definitely not busy. In reality, he cleared his schedule as much as possible for the week you were all visiting.

How was he going to tell you? He was deeply embarrassed, not to mention Mai might try and pull something with you. He knew not to underestimate her.

The thought of her trying to hurt you was enough to rack up the nerve to confess. He just needed a moment alone with you.

A grand dinner was prepared for the Avatars arrival, the rest of you reaped the rewards of being his friends.

"This is SOO good!" Sokka exclaimed, "Zuko sure has a way with food....." He slammed a fist on the table, before quickly lifting more food to his mouth,

"Sokka, you know he has chefs who make the food, right? Please tell me you know that..." You deadpanned, looking at him.

"Uh... Yeah! Yeah, definitely...." He looked down, that was until a new voice appeared.

"Sokka, did you really think I cooked all this?" Zuko walked to the seat at the head of the table. You noticed you were sat to his right.

It was a Fire Nation tradition that the Lady of the house would sit to the right of the Lord... You brushed the thought off quickly, writing it all off as a coincidence.

"W-well I don't know! You've been working ALL DAY!" Sokka squawked.

The dinner went on smoothly, well as smoothly a dinner can go with this group. You could feel the servants and servers rolling their eyes at all the unprofessional comments, jokes, and laughter.

You didn't care, you were just happy Zuko was able to be himself.

Hours later, when everyone was worn out and had their stomachs filled, they started to head to bed.

You were one of the last to leave, having been helping tidy up as much as you could.

You thanked and farewelled the servers, trying your best to remember where your room was.

The Palace was much bigger than you remembered. The halls upon halls blurred together. You were soon lost.

Every direction you turned looked the same, you started to breathe heavy.

You could already see it, 'cause of death, starvation in the Fire Nation Palace.' Or maybe dehydration would take you quicker?

A man passed by, you were saved! Though, the closer you got the bigger his scowl grew.

"Excuse me, I think I'm lost. Can you help me?" You were nervous asking, it was so 'common' for someone to get lost in a palace. You were sure your cheeks were red.

His face was dark, his eyes covered by his demeanor. For some reason he seemed annoyed at you.

"Sir?"

A hand rested on your shoulder from behind. It started you, putting you into a 'fight mode.'

Turning around swiftly calmed your nerves as quickly as they came. It was Zuko.

"Can I help you?" Zuko was talking to the strange man, who was no longer so 'big and bad.'

"No Fire Lord Zuko, my apologies." He barred his head in a bow and left.

You had a small smile on your lips, "Thanks, he was starting to scare me." While you were positive you could have taken the man, you were tired and didn't really feel like fighting.

"Of course, I can show you to your room." He held his arm out, you took it.

The gesture was friendly, you told yourself. Nothing more.

You must have been lost for awhile, as it took a few minutes to get to your room. The small talk exchanged was nice, but something told you Zuko was hiding something.

At your door, he stopped. "Zuko, do you want to come in? You seem restless."

"Actually, I do have something to tell you..." The tone of his voice scared you.

"Oh, then please sit." He joined you on the edge of your end. The door shut behind you two.

You pushed a strand of hair back, nervously sitting. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not really sure how to tell you this... I really am ashamed to have to ask you for a really big favor..." You had seen him on edge a lot, he was quite the stressor. Nothing like this, though.

"Zuko, anything. What do you need me to do?" You questioned.

He looked down at his hands, "You can tell me. I'm in no position to judge you, you know that."

"I uh," He rubbed the back of his neck, "I told Mai that we were dating so she would stop trying to get with me." He spit out so fast you almost missed what he said.

"Oh."

Well that's not what you thought he would say...

"That's not the worst part." He lowered his face to his hands, "The ball in four days, well I told her you were going with me... She's got Ty Lee lining up suitors for her. Trying to make me mad. Also she uh, she's probably told everyone now..."

"Oh." You were at a loss for words.

"I... I don't know... I'm sorry. This is stupid, at the ball I'll tell everyone what happened. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen! It just slipped out an-"

"Zuko."

"Yes?"

"What if you don't have to tell everyone?"

You hadn't looked at him since he started talking. Honestly, a night with Zuko at a ball? It sounded like a dream. Zuko was handsome, kind, generous, and you'd had a crush on him for months. You knew he wouldn't ever really date you... So you might as well seize the opportunity, right? What could go wrong!

The two of you decided it would be wise to not tell anyone else it was fake, as Sokka, Toph, and Aang had big mouths. They'd slip up sooner or later. As for Katara, she wouldn't have kept that big of a secret from Aang.

So, for the next few days you and Zuko spent every second together. At first, it was coming up with plans for the ball. It turned into getting more physically comfortable with each other. That eventually escalated to spilling each other's deepest secrets, ya know... just in case...

Even in four days, you found yourself going from a crush to madly in love. You found out his quirks, what made him tick, his hidden likes and dislikes. Not a second was spent apart.

The afternoon before the ball you were stressed. It had been easy up until the ball. You just had to be yourself around Zuko, now you had to pretend in front of hundreds...

Katara helped you pick out a beautiful red and black dress. To match Zuko's of course.

A big scene was planned out between the two of you, Zuko would introduce you to everyone in an announcement and you'd walk don't the grand starts arm in arm with him.

It was fun to imagine and talk about, but now the 'what ifs' were running wild.

You somehow made your way to Zuko's room, knocking hesitantly. He begrudgingly opened, but became excited when he saw you.

"Zuko, I'm terrified." He quickly guided you into his room.

"What happened?"

"What if I fall? What if no one likes me? It's a lot of steps it-" He cut you off.

"Hey, it's okay... We can throw everything out the window. Just saw the words."

You swallowed thick. "No, no just... Just promise you'll be there? For me?"

Your name was a whisper on his lips, "Ill always be here for you... Just imagines its only us up there... Just normal day."

You nodded, more relaxed knowing he'd be by your side through I tall. It also gave you a wicked feeling of comfort to know he was still willing to do whatever you preferred. He would have ended the lie immediately if you asked, but you wanted to be there for him as well. To make sure Mai would leave him alone.

The Palace was bustling with people, waiters, food, activities, and entertainment. It all came to an abrupt stop when Lord Zuko appeared.

It was comical, trumpets blared and all head turned.

"Fire Lord Zuko, accompanied by-" Your name seemed unreal on his lips. To be announced with a Fire Lord? You felt you didn't deserve it.

You slowly walked into view of everyone, whispers erupting. To be 'accompanied by' was essentially dating for Lords and Ladys.

All eyes were on you as you took Zuko's arm, walking down the steps. You felt light, your grip tightening on Zukos.

"Almost there, I'm right here." His words were all the comfort you needed.

Music resumed and the party goers continued their fun.

That was expect for one person. Mai. She marched up to you, her questioning eyes on guard. Watching her march over sparked a fury in you, the fire started and didn't stop until you spoke.

"Hello Mai. How can I help you? Is your father well, since he lost his job as Governor and all..." You passively aggressively asked, a mock frown on your face.

"What would you know about Governor dad's and all? You grew up poor." Damn, she got you there.

"I guess the difference in poor and rich is personality. Cause you don't have one..." You shrugged your shoulders at her, biting back a laugh.

"At least Zuko loved me for who I am, not who I was pretending to be." She remarked, not really knowing why Zuko loved her or you.

"Damn Mai, you must know a lot about pretending. Seeing as you're a two faced bitch. Should I go and tell Ty Lee you called her an 'easy bed'." A gasp left her lips in shock, how did you know she said that? Well, you wouldn't tell her, but a gossiping Fire Sage spilled the beans.

Zuko, who had been temporarily called away to exchange pleasantries with a Navy Captain, had returned.

"Mai, I see you've met my girlfriend." He said, snaking a hand around your waist. Chills were sent up your spine.

She gave a scoff, "It'll never last. You're only in it because he's the Fire Lord." She pointed to you, then him, "And you, you just seemed to pick up the next girl you saw laying around. Talk about a downgrade. When you get tired of her, i'll be waiting." She walked away.

"What is her problem!" You exclaimed, face hot with anger.

"Jealousy, I think." He said.

You turned to face him completely. "What for, she doesn't even seem to like you anymore?"

"Maybe cause you're prettier than her?" He said, not realizing his own words.

Your cheeks were now flushed for a different reason. You swiped your lips with your tongue before speaking, "Thank you..."

Hours of dancing, partying, and eating went by. Everyone bought the act easily, you and Zuko were naturals at dating. The fun died down, and many were starting to go back home.

Zuko walked you back to your room, hand in hand.

"Thank you. I really cannot thank you enough, just ask. Whatever you want is yours." Zuko said, still grasping your hands at your bedroom door.

"I don't need anything. This was really fun actually, I know you were just pretending... but i've had the best time the past five days."

"Pretend?" His face screwed up, like he was in denial.

You blinked a few times, own lip curling. "Well, I mean... You made it pretty clear this was all just an act. I-I am not hurt." You were, but wouldn't let him know.

"Words cannot express how genuine these days have been... Oh gosh, I haven't felt this free since I was a child." He pressed on, serious.

"Y-you mean, none of this has been fake to you?"

"Well, I know you signed up for 'fake'." He looked over you, face uncertain.

With a step forward you spoke, "This hasn't been fake for me either..."

"Really?" He pressed his chest to your slightly, hand wavering around your waist. "Because I don't think I could live if you're lying right now."

"Will this answer your questions?" You leaned up, closing the gap and kissing him.

A/N-Thank you for reading, I haven't fully watched ATLA In a little bit sorry if Zuko is OOC!! When it's not midnight and I'm not super tired, I will edit any mistakes!

[levisolace]

am i making you feel sick? (zayne x f!reader)

WC: 15,691 Pairing: zayne x reader, subtle sylus x reader Warnings: graphic depictions of illness Genre: Angst, (Possibly) Unrequited Love, Hanahaki Disease AU Summary: You escape Linkon to heal from the deadly Hanahaki Disease, your unspoken love for Dr. Zayne threatening to consume you from within. Note: Hi! I had this in my drafts for a while since Sylus came out. Figured to finally post it. Here's my first LaDs fic. Hope you all like it. This is only a one-shot btw.

ao3 link

You don’t know when it started. Maybe it was over the meals you’ve shared, or when you began to know much more about him, how he loved sweets, how he graduated half the time it should’ve, or maybe it’s just how truly and deeply kind and caring he is. In the stolen glances you gave him whenever he was in your presence, you admired how beautiful he was. His raven black hair, hazel green eyes, and broad shoulders. Oh, his beautiful shoulders. It was your dream to have your hands running through them. 

It was perfect. You two shared a history from your childhood and more than a decade later, you were brought back once again in your adult years. Like it was fated. Like stars have aligned for the two of you. Maybe it was the knowledge of the “you meet people twice theory” that made your delusion worse. Maybe it was when you began to think of scenarios of you and him before you went to sleep at night. 

To make it short, you don’t know when you started falling in love with your primary care physician, Dr. Zayne. 

It was fun at first, the idea of falling in love. He is your friend, no matter how busy he is, if he can, he gives his free time to you. In the midst of all of that, you began to question yourself if the way you see him was more than a friend. 

Before you knew it, you found yourself blushing at every interaction, every text, every post and comment he made, and every doctor appointment whenever he would even slightly touch you. Your heart rate sped up and he probably noticed that too. You were practically transparent with how easy you are to read.

He was the total opposite.

He’s stoic and unreadable. Half of the time, you don’t know if he’s serious or joking. Most of the time, it’s the former. He would always find ways to scold you on how you take care of yourself. 

Still, you hoped. You made yourself believe that underneath all that caring was an underlying emotion that comes as more than a physician and a friend. And so you let yourself fall into that deep abyss of longing. Love. It’s such a common word, one that is used lightly but holds the weight of the world and humanity. 

But you couldn’t be more wrong.

You stepped out of the cab and onto the rain-slicked pavement of Linkon, the familiar hum of the city wrapping around you like an old friend. The night was young, but the streets were already alive with their own rhythm—flashes of neon lights, distant sirens, and the ever-present murmur of conversations blending into a cacophony that was both chaotic and comforting.

You tugged your leather jacket tighter against the cool evening breeze, your thoughts racing faster than your heartbeat. After weeks in the field—tracking elusive prey through shadowed forests and braving the bite of unforgiving weather—returning to the city was like slipping into a well-worn pair of boots. But tonight, the excitement in your step had nothing to do with the urban landscape you missed. It was all about the man waiting for you at the clinic.

Dr. Zayne had been a constant in your thoughts even while you were miles away, slinking through the underbrush and facing dangers of wanderers. Your encounters were always memorable, punctuated by shared glances and conversations that left you with a giddy sense of longing.

Your boots clacked against the pavement as you hurried down the street, the soft patter of rain masking her footsteps. You reached the glass door of the clinic, pausing for a moment to smooth your hair and then pushed inside. 

The lobby was quiet, illuminated by the soft glow of overhead lights and the soft hum of a vending machine in the corner. You approached the reception desk, where a young woman was looking up with a smile. 

“Hi, I’m here to see Dr. Zayne,” you tell her. 

“Ah, Miss (L/N), right?” the receptionist asked. You’ve probably been here too many times to not be known. Is that a bad thing? Probably. But you don’t mind.

You nod. “Ah, I think Dr. Zayne stepped out for   dinner,” she informs you. “You can wait here. He should be coming back soon.” 

“Oh, okay. Thank you,” you replied, giving her a smile. 

You cursed to yourself. You probably shouldn’t have tried to surprise him with your unprecedented visit and just texted him beforehand. It’s still pretty early for his usual dinner time despite it being dark already. With how busy and needed he is in the hospital, it resulted in him having inconsistent meal times, very much similar to your line of work. You hoped to catch him before he ate and ask him out for a meal like you always do. But that’s not happening tonight. 

As you wait patiently in the lobby while looking through social media posts on your phone, a nurse you know well approached you and called you by your name. You look up to see Yvonne smiling at you. You gave her a genuine smile back, happy to see an acquaintance. 

“Hey Ms. Hunter, you here for Dr. Zayne?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I heard he’s out for dinner. I just got back from a mission and wanted to see him because I had to skip an appointment during the week,” you inform her.

She places her hand in the pockets of her scrub as she thinks, her eyes widening for a moment when she remembers. “Yeah, I think he ate dinner with Dr. Emma.” 

“Dr. Emma?” The unfamiliar name rolls off your tongue in a bad way. This is the first time you’ve heard of her. 

“Yeah, she’s a new doctor who transferred here a while ago. A genius doctor too, maybe that’s why she quickly hit it off with Dr. Zayne,” she pouts. 

That’s when your heart sank. A dinner date. The words echoed in your mind, crushing the small spark of hope you had been nurturing. You forced a smile as Yvonne excused herself out of the quick conversation, dropping it as quickly as she fades from your view. 

Just like that, your excitement bubbled down into an unknown pain. It was like humiliation but something else completely. You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you even if no one was watching you—like they knew you were here for Zayne but he was already with another woman. But they don’t know that. You’re just another patient here. Thinking of that truth should’ve comforted you. But somehow, it felt worse. 

With a heavy heart, you went back to your apartment without seeing the doctor you were waiting for.

One sad dinner by yourself later, you found yourself lying on your bed, the exhaustion of the preceding mission finally dawned on you. The adrenaline of excitement has worn out, leaving you with a heavy feeling of disappointment and body ache. 

Your phone dinged with a notification and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to move a limb. It’s a wonder how you never felt this way after a mission before even if you were injured. It’s like something was weighing you down but you couldn’t pinpoint where. 

The phone dinged a few times more and you ignored it, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment. You guess it was just the group chat from work. Tomorrow and the weekend are your days off anyway. They can forgive you for not responding for a few hours. 

It was then that your phone started to ring, indicating a phone call. Groaning in annoyance, you will yourself to reach for your phone by the bedside table, picking it up hastily while your eyes are closed.

“Hello?” you answer groggily. 

“Are you alright?” The familiar deep voice asked without missing a beat, tone laced with concern. Your eyes widen, looking at the caller ID. It was Zayne. The messages were also from him.

“Oh, it’s you.” Everything felt lighter than it was, your tone involuntarily chipper than it was a second ago. It was like your body is uncontrollable when it comes to him. You sit up on your bed to speak to him more clearly. 

“What happened?” He asked again, eager to get the point.

“What do you mean?” 

“Why did you leave the hospital? The nurse told me you were here to see me and then left,” he asked further. You don’t answer for a moment, unsure on what to lie about. You can’t exactly tell him the truth. 

“Oh… yeah. I just got back from a mission but you weren’t there so I left,” you explained. 

There was silence from a moment like he was thinking and you wish that you knew what it was about. Like most of the time, you wished to enter his mind and see him wholly. 

“...Are you hurt?” The eagerness dropped from his tone, replaced by the softness that you adored partnered with the deep concern that he showed you multiple times. It’s a softness that you found yourself used to, something that pertains to a relationship more than a doctor and his patient. 

“I’m alright, Dr. Zayne,” you answer truthfully but your voice betrays you and you curse yourself in your mind, knowing that the attentive doctor would notice. 

“You don’t sound alright,” he states the obvious, the subtle sarcasm noted in his answer. 

“I really am, Zayne. I just felt bad about missing the appointment because of the mission,” you say as you pull and fold your legs closer to yourself, hugging them to your chest. You hear his soft sigh on the other line and you let out an involuntary chuckle, picturing his disappointed and crunched forehead while he sat on his office desk. 

“Do you want to come in tomorrow?” He asked and your heart jumped at the question. The thought of seeing him tomorrow giving you a boost of serotonin. 

“Do I need to? I really am fine,” you answer truthfully, pertaining to your physical health.

“Nevermind. You’re coming in tomorrow. That’s an order from your doctor,” he commands and you chuckle again and roll your eyes but enjoy his nagging nonetheless. 

“Fine, Dr. Zayne. I’ll come in tomorrow.”

“Great, I’ll see you then,” and he hangs up.

That night, you sleep with a heavy heart no longer but the thought of another woman still lingers at the back of your mind. You push the thoughts away, focusing on the thought that you will see him tomorrow. 

Just for tonight, you’ll dream of those green eyes. It wouldn’t hurt, would it?

You sit in front of him, legs crossed, your frilly skirt brushing against your knees as you try to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Zayne flips through your chart, his brow furrowed in concentration, like every detail of your health is a puzzle he’s determined to solve.

“Everything looks fine,” he says at last, his voice calm and steady.

You smile, forcing a lightness to your tone that doesn’t quite match how you feel inside. “Told you. I’m a good Hunter.”

His lips twitch into a half-smile. “You are. But that doesn’t mean you should throw yourself at any wanderer that crosses your path.”

You pout, sticking out your bottom lip in mock protest. “I wasn’t throwing myself at anyone. You make it sound like I’m reckless.”

Zayne chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not reckless—just a bit too fearless sometimes.”

The playful back-and-forth between you has become so natural, but today it feels different. You’d dressed up a little for this checkup, abandoning your usual jeans for something more delicate, more thoughtful, hoping he might notice. Maybe today would be the day you’d muster up the courage to say something—anything—to let him know how you feel. But before you can respond, a soft knock on the door interrupts your thoughts.

Zayne glances up, his face softening instantly. “Come in.”

The door opens, and a woman steps inside, holding a small container in her hands. She’s striking, with short auburn hair that falls just past her ears and eyes that shine with quiet warmth. She’s dressed in a simple but elegant medical uniform, her steps confident and unhurried as she approaches the desk.

“Hey,” she says, smiling at Zayne. “I brought you something.” She sets the candy container down in front of him, a fond look passing between them.

Zayne’s face lights up—genuinely lights up—in a way you’ve rarely seen. He glances over at you, as if only just realizing you’re still in the room. “Y/N, this is Dr. Emma Lin. She’s—uh—one of the new doctors here at Akso Hospital.”

Emma gives you a polite nod, her smile warm but distant, like she’s already figured out who you are and where you stand. You manage to smile back, but your throat tightens painfully. You can feel the familiar weight of something blooming deep inside, a pressure building that you’ve worked so hard to suppress.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Emma says lightly, looking back at Zayne. “I just thought you could use a snack.”

“No, it’s fine,” Zayne replies, his tone softening even more. “Thanks for this.”

Emma lingers for a moment, her hand lightly brushing Zayne’s shoulder before she finally turns and heads out, leaving the room in an awkward, heavy silence.

You stare at the closed door, a pit forming in your stomach. So this is her.

“She’s nice,” you say, forcing the words out even though they taste bitter on your tongue. “Seems like she cares a lot.”

Zayne clears his throat, his gaze dropping back to the chart, though he’s clearly not reading it anymore. “Yeah. She’s great. We’ve been, uh… seeing each other.”

There it is. The confirmation you didn’t want but were already expecting.

“Oh,” you say softly, keeping your tone as casual as you can manage. “That’s… that’s nice, Zayne.”

He glances up at you, his brows knitting together as if he can sense the sudden shift in your mood, the hurt you’re trying so hard to hide. “It’s still pretty new,” he adds, almost as if he’s apologizing. “We’re just trying it out.” 

You swallow, the familiar burn in your throat intensifying. You can feel the petals—sharp and brittle—pressing against your chest, but you can’t let him see. Not now. Not ever.

“I’m happy for you,” you lie, forcing a smile that feels like it’s cracking at the edges. “You deserve someone great.”

Zayne watches you closely, his gaze searching, but you don’t let anything slip. Not a single hint of the pain coursing through you.

“I should probably go,” you say abruptly, standing up a little too quickly. “Thanks for the checkup, Zayne.”

He stands as well, concern flickering in his eyes, but you’re already heading for the door before he can ask any more questions.

“Y/N,” he calls after you, his voice hesitant, but you wave it off, turning with a bright, practiced smile.

“I’m fine, really. Just… have a lot on my mind. See you next time.”

And with that, you’re out the door, your chest tightening with every step as you leave the clinic. The air outside feels cold against your skin, the pressure building inside you unbearable. You let out a shaky breath, but little did you know, it’s too late to stop it.

The days dragged on like you were on autopilot. Your feelings weren’t new. They’ve always been there. Since you had a tiny crush on him in your childhood, you actually believed that you had a chance. 

The memory of Zayne's words, spoken only a few weeks ago, echoed in your mind. His voice, usually so warm and reassuring, had been hesitant, almost apologetic, as he shared the news. He'd told you about the new doctor he was seeing, her name a blur in your memory, her face a hazy silhouette in your imagination.

You hadn't meant to linger, to let the silence stretch into an uncomfortable void. You'd forced a smile, a laugh, even though your heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. You’d congratulated him, your voice a shaky whisper, but inside, you felt as though the world had been flipped on its side.

The world you’d been building in your head, a world where perhaps, just maybe, your unspoken feelings for Zayne could blossom into something more, had crumbled in an instant. You had been so careful, so cautious, not wanting to jeopardize the easy familiarity that had always existed between you. But now, the fragile hope you had clung to was gone, shattered into a million pieces.

The image of Zayne’s smile, reserved only for you, the way he’d always look at you with a warmth that seemed to encompass you entirely, now felt like a cruel mirage. The way his hand had lingered on yours, just a moment longer than necessary, had felt like a shared secret, a silent promise. Now, the memory of that touch sent a pang of longing through you, a sharp, unfamiliar ache.

You couldn't explain the sudden urge to avoid the clinic, the way even the faintest scent of disinfectant made you feel dizzy. You’d found yourself choosing the more dangerous missions, seeking solace in the adrenaline rush of battle, a temporary distraction from the growing unease in your heart.

You tried to push the thoughts away, to bury the hurt beneath layers of duty and responsibility. But it was a losing battle. The emptiness you felt, the ache in your chest, it was a constant companion now, a gnawing emptiness that refused to be ignored.

You couldn't ignore the growing fatigue, the way you seemed to be catching every bug that went around, the way your lungs felt tight, as though they were constantly filled with a suffocating weight. But you pushed it all aside, attributing it to the stress of your job, the relentless pressure of protecting the city. You were a Hunter, one with duties to protect the people from Wanderers. You couldn’t afford to be sick. Not when their threats are more rampant than before.

You need more distraction. You need to forget about Zayne. 

The world felt muted, the colors drained. 

The harsh fluorescent lights of the Hunter HQ buzzed overhead, casting a sickly glow on the cluttered desk where you sat, sifting through reports. A wave of nausea, unexpected and sharp, rolled over you. You clutched your stomach, a bead of sweat forming on your brow. This wasn't the usual post-mission exhaustion. This felt… different.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Tara asks in concern as she sees you practically about to hurl. 

You excused yourself, hurrying to the nearest restroom. The familiar scent of disinfectant did little to ease the churning in your gut. As you leaned over the sink, a wave of violent coughing seized you, racking your body. Something lodged in your throat, a burning sensation rising with each heave.

At first, it just worried you. Your protocore syndrome must’ve worsened. But that can’t be. You’ve gotten stronger since you’ve been in the N109 zone and you’ve been fine even before that.

Finally, you coughed up a small, crimson-tinged object – a delicate, blood-red rose petal.

Panic tightened your chest. Hanahaki. The whispered fear that had always lurked at the edges of your mind, now a stark reality. The illness that bloomed in your lungs, a physical manifestation of unrequited love, a slow, agonizing death. It was a rare disease, so rare that people even begin to question if they still exist. But they do. And now, you are an example.

Your world seemed to tilt on its axis. Zayne. His warm smile, his kind eyes, the way he always seemed to know just what to say, the way he’d gently patch you up after each mission, his hands tracing the scars on your arms with an unspoken tenderness that had always made your heart skip a beat.

You remembered the day he'd told you, his voice softer than usual, about the new doctor he was dating. The way his hand had lingered on the door handle, a touch of hesitancy in his eyes. The way he’d looked away as he mentioned the woman’s name. The woman he’d spent months, maybe even years, telling you stories about.

But this couldn’t be. You weren’t supposed to be sick. You were a Hunter, a soldier, a protector. You weren’t supposed to be felled by something as fragile and fleeting as love. You weren’t supposed to be… heartbroken.

The fear gnawed at you, a cold, sharp blade against your insides. Your vision blurred, the bright lights of the HQ fading to an almost unbearable white. You clung to the sink, your mind reeling, knowing that with each cough, each petal you coughed up, your life was slowly fading away.

The days dragged on, each one blending into the next, a constant reminder of your hidden struggle. Tara’s worried glances were becoming harder to ignore. She’d been your best friend since you started hunting together, and her concern was palpable, hovering like a cloud over your head.

“You need to take a break,” she pressed one evening after a long mission, her voice low as you both cleaned your gear in the dim light of the supply room. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re not invincible, Y/N.”

You waved her off, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to your own ears. “I’m fine, really. Just a little tired. The last mission was tough, that’s all.” But deep down, you knew you were lying, and Tara could see right through it.

Your nights were plagued with coughing fits, sharp and painful, like a bitter reminder of the flowers blooming within you. Each cough felt like a warning, a desperate call for attention, yet you buried it beneath a layer of denial. You pushed through the pain, stubbornly refusing to let it slow you down.

But then Captain Jenna called you into her office, and you felt the weight of her piercing gaze as soon as you stepped inside. She was a force of nature—stern but compassionate, always demanding the best from her team. The moment she closed the door, you could sense the shift in atmosphere.

“Y/N,” she began, her voice steady but filled with concern. “You’re not yourself. I’ve noticed the way you falter during missions, how pale you’ve become. It’s like you’re a shadow of who you used to be. What’s going on?”

You met her gaze, your heart racing as you weighed your options. You could tell her the truth about your condition, about the Hanahaki disease that was slowly consuming you. But could you bear to reveal your secret? The love you held for Zayne, the pain of watching him with another woman—it felt too heavy, too raw to lay bare.

“It’s nothing, Captain. Just a bit worn out,” you said, your voice stronger than you felt.

“Worn out?” she repeated, her brow furrowing in disbelief. “This isn’t just exhaustion, Y/N. You’re struggling. I need you at your best. The team needs you at your best. If you can’t do this, I need to know.”

The pressure built inside you, and you fought the urge to scream, to let it all out. “I can handle it. I promise. Just give me a bit more time.”

Jenna studied you for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “You know where to find me if you need to talk.”

You nodded, though her words felt like a lifeline you were too proud to grasp. As you left her office, the walls felt like they were closing in. The facade you’d built was crumbling, and you were running out of places to hide.

The next few days were a blur of missions, each one feeling heavier than the last. Tara’s worried looks became more frequent, and you could see the doubt creeping into her expression. You tried to put on a brave face, but the more you pushed yourself, the worse you felt. Your coughs grew worse, punctuated by a metallic taste that clung to your throat.

One evening, you finally reached your breaking point. You collapsed onto your bed after another grueling mission, your body trembling with exhaustion. Your hands trembled as you brushed your fingers across the petals that had begun to manifest along your throat. Each one was a reminder of your unspoken feelings, a testament to the love you couldn’t bear to confess.

As you lay there, Tara knocked on your door before entering without waiting for a response. She took one look at you and rushed to your side, her eyes wide with concern. “Y/N! You look awful! Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this bad?”

You turned your head away, biting your lip to keep from crying. “I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

“Stop lying to me!” she exclaimed, her voice shaking with frustration. “You’re clearly not okay. You need to see a doctor. If you won’t talk to Jenna, then you’ll at least talk to someone else.”

At that moment, the walls you've built around yourself finally crumbled, and the truth began to pour out. “I don’t want to talk about it, Tara! I’m just… I’m just trying to keep it together.”

Her gaze softened, and she reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “You don’t have to do this alone. Let me help you.”

You felt the warmth of her support, and for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into it. “I… I don’t know how to explain it,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “There’s something wrong with me, and I don’t want to burden you with it.”

“You’re my best friend. You’re never a burden to me,” she said, her tone gentle yet firm. “Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

With a shaky breath, you finally relented, the weight of your secret pressing down on you like an anchor. “I think I have Hanahaki disease. It’s… it’s because of Zayne.”

Tara’s eyes widened in shock. “What? How long have you known?”

“Since the checkup,” you admitted, tears spilling down your cheeks. “But I can’t tell him. I can’t let him know how I feel. And if I don’t have the surgery, the flowers will keep growing. I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Y/N…” Tara began, her voice a soothing balm against your anxiety. “You need to take care of yourself first. If Zayne cares about you like you think he does, he’ll understand.”

The idea felt foreign, a small glimmer of hope amidst the suffocating darkness. But would he really care? Would it matter to him?

You shook your head, the thoughts swirling like a tempest in your mind. “I can’t go back to him. Not like this.”

Tara leaned closer, determination shining in her eyes. “Then let’s go to the hospital and get you the help you need. You don’t have to face this alone. We’ll figure it out together.”

For the first time in days, the thought of facing your illness didn’t feel as daunting. Maybe there was still a chance to reclaim a piece of yourself. Taking what Tara said by heart, you stood up, ready to fight the battle you’d been avoiding for too long.

You need to come up with a plan without involving Zayne. He doesn’t need to know and carry the guilt of you being sick. He’s a doctor, for fuck’s sake. How could he bear to treat you when he learns that he’s the reason for it? Or worse, will he have to be the one to  surgically remove the plant growing inside you to completely remove him for life?

After a long period of silence, you turn to Tara with dried tears in your eyes, determined and decided.

“Tara, I need you to listen to me about what I’m about to do.”

Filing a leave of absence from the Hunters Association felt like the hardest thing you’d done in a while, but it was the first necessary step. You expected resistance—Jenna rarely let anyone take time off easily, especially not with everything happening in Linkon City. But to your surprise, she granted your request immediately, no questions asked. Maybe she’d seen more of your exhaustion than you realized. Or maybe she knew this was something you needed to do alone.

Once the leave was secured, you contacted Sylus, the only one you know who could help you get into the N109 zone safely, a place few dared to go unless they had business on the other side of the law. He was your last hope for hiding away from everything: Zayne, your disease, and the life you couldn’t bear to face anymore. You expected him to hesitate, maybe even refuse to help, but Sylus responded almost immediately, granting you safe passage to his home without a second thought.

“You look rough, sweetie,” Sylus said the moment you stepped through the door. His nickname for you, one you used to find annoying and mocking, now felt oddly comforting. But today, there was no mockery in his tone. Only concern.

You glanced up at him, feeling the weight of his crimson eyes studying you. He wasn’t just looking at you; he was seeing you, seeing how much you’d changed since the last time you stayed in N109. Your skin had lost its color, your lips were dry and cracked, and your once sharp, determined eyes had dulled with fatigue and the weight of secrets.

Sylus sighed, stepping aside to let you pass. “You know where your room is.”

You nodded weakly, mumbling a soft “thank you” as you dragged yourself through the dimly lit hallway. Luke and Keiran, Sylus’s trusted associates, were already by your side, taking the backpack from your shoulder and exchanging worried glances as they guided you to your room.

The room was exactly as you remembered it—small but cozy, tucked away in a quiet corner of Sylus’s house. It had been your safe haven once before, back when the pressures of the outside world had gotten too heavy. But this time, it felt different. You were running from more than just stress. You were running from yourself.

Luke placed your bag on the chair while Keiran hovered near the door, his usual mischievous demeanor replaced by concern. “Are you hungry?” Keiran asked, his voice unusually gentle.

You shook your head, barely able to muster the energy to respond. The truth was, you hadn’t felt hunger in days, the constant nausea from the flowers growing inside you making food seem like an afterthought.

Keiran exchanged a glance with Luke before stepping closer. “You need to eat something, Y/N. You’re looking… worse than usual.”

You couldn’t help but give a weak smile at his bluntness. “I’ll eat later,” you promised, though you knew you probably wouldn’t.

Luke stayed silent and didn’t press the issue. Instead, he handed you a glass of water, and you took it gratefully, sipping slowly as the two of them busied themselves tidying the room. You could feel their unspoken worry, the way they moved more carefully around you, like you might break at any moment.

“Anything else you need, just let us know,” Luke said quietly before they both left, closing the door behind them.

Alone at last, you collapsed onto the bed, the exhaustion finally catching up to you. The room felt too quiet, too still, and your thoughts began to spiral. You’d made it to N109. You were away from Zayne, away from the Association, from everything. But the weight in your chest—the flowers—remained. You could feel them growing, their roots twisting deeper with every unspoken word, every feeling you couldn’t voice.

You lay there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how long you could keep running. How long until the disease consumed you completely?

There was a soft knock at the door, and you turned your head to see Sylus leaning against the frame, holding a tray of what looked like a warm bowl of noodles. 

“Not eating, huh?” he said, his voice low. “I figured. Got you something anyway.” He walked in and placed the tray on the side table. You were right. It was one of your favorites when you stayed here before.

You smiled weakly. “You don’t have to do this.”

Sylus shrugged, his crimson eyes still locked on you, sharper now, as if he could see the weight you were carrying. He goes back to lean against the door frame, watching you like you were going to break at any second. “I do when you come back looking like death warmed over. What’s going on, Y/N?”

You wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill everything—the disease, your love for Zayne, the way it was slowly killing you. But the words stuck in your throat, and all you could manage was a tired, “It’s complicated.”

Sylus’s gaze didn’t waver. “Everything’s complicated. Doesn’t mean you can’t talk about it.”

For a moment, you considered it, but then the thought of Zayne flashed through your mind. The image of him with Emma, happy, unburdened by your love, and the flowers in your chest tightened.

“I’ll be fine,” you said instead, though you weren’t sure you believed it yourself.

Sylus stared at you for another long moment before sighing. “Well, you’re here now. Rest up. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

He pushed off the doorframe and left you alone again, but his words lingered in the air. We’ll figure it out.

But what if there was nothing left to figure out? What if the only solution was letting the flowers take you?

The silence of the room settled over you like a heavy blanket, pressing down on your chest until it was almost unbearable. Every breath felt strained, like the air itself was growing thicker. It has been a few days. You hadn’t told Sylus, or anyone for that matter, the full truth of your condition. But you could feel it—the flowers—growing stronger, more vicious by the day. Sylus has ordered a doctor to come to your room, just to check up on you. Just as you predicted, doctors are a bit hard to come by in this area. The doctor knows little about Hanahaki disease, so you told him it was your Protocore Disease accompanied by accumulated stress from work. He gave you suppressants and asked Sylus to monitor you for now.

Hours passed in a blur of restless half-sleep, until a sharp pain in your chest jolted you awake. You pressed a hand to your ribs, wincing as a violent cough wracked your body, more intense than any you’d had before. Panic surged through you as the pressure built in your throat, forcing you out of bed.

You stumbled into the bathroom, hands trembling as you gripped the edge of the sink. Another cough ripped through you, harder this time, and you doubled over, gasping. You felt something sharp and foreign rise in your throat—something too large, too wrong.

With a shuddering breath, you coughed again, and this time, something solid came up. You coughed repeatedly but it would just not come out. Tears stream down your face from the pain and frustration. You began to help it by pulling it out with your fingers. And finally, it came out.

You leaned over the sink, spitting out the mass into the basin, your heart pounding in your chest. When you looked down, you froze.

A stem of thorns, slick with blood, curled like a dark vine in the sink. Each thorn gleamed under the dim light, jagged and cruel. The petals had been bad enough, but this—this was something else. Something worse. You couldn’t ignore it any longer. The disease was advancing, and it was doing so faster than you’d anticipated.

Panic surged through you as you backed away from the sink, a quiet whimper escaping your lips. You pressed a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to stifle the sound, but it was too late. You hear that damn bird cawing outside the door. 

The door creaked open, and Sylus stepped into the bathroom, his eyes narrowing the moment he saw you. He was still dressed fully like he just came back from outside. He must’ve had a meeting late at night, a normal occurrence in this place. Mephisto, sits by his shoulder, cawing like he was the one who led Sylus to you. 

“Y/N?” His voice was low but urgent, the edge of concern sharpening his usually calm demeanor.

You turned, eyes wide, your hand still pressed to your mouth as if you could hide the evidence. But it was no use. His gaze flickered from you to the sink, where the thorny stem still lay, stark against the white porcelain. There was blood all over your mouth, dripping on your hands and neck.

“Sweetie…” His voice dropped, softer now, but laced with something darker. “What the hell is going on?”

You couldn’t speak. The words stuck in your throat, tangled with fear and shame. Sylus crossed the room in a few quick strides, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached the sink. He stared at the thorns for a moment before looking back at you, his face hardening with realization.

“You’ve got Hanahaki, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a truth you could no longer deny.

Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded, your hands shaking as you gripped the edge of the sink for support. “I… I didn’t want to tell anyone. I thought I could handle it,” your voice was hoarse, throat swollen as you tried so hard to speak.

“Handle it?” Sylus’s voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his frustration in check. “You’re coughing up thorns, Y/N, rose thorns. You do know that rose is one of the deadliest strains of Hanahaki, don’t you? This isn’t something you can just ‘handle.’ Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

You swallowed hard, the taste of blood still lingering red in your mouth. “Because… because it’s because of Zayne.”

Sylus froze, his eyes widening in shock. “Zayne? You mean—”

You nodded, the confession spilling out like a dam breaking. “I’ve loved him for so long, Sylus, and I can’t stop. But he’s with someone else now. And I… I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t put that on him, not when he’s happy.”

Sylus’s expression darkened, and he let out a low, frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Darling, you’re killing yourself over him. You should have told me sooner.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to catch your breath, the pain in your chest growing sharper. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought… I thought I could live with it, but it’s getting worse. The flowers, they’re… they’re spreading.”

Sylus stepped closer, his hands gripping your shoulders gently but firmly. “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’ll figure something out. But first, we need to get you to a doctor. A real one, not some back-alley medic.”

“I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “If I get the surgery, it’ll remove the feelings entirely. I won’t feel anything for Zayne anymore. And… and I don’t know if I’m ready to let go of that.”

Sylus’s expression softened, the anger fading as he saw the pain in your eyes. “I get it. But you have to take care of yourself first. This disease—it’s going to kill you if you don’t do something. I’m not letting you waste away like this.”

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words sink in. You didn’t want to die. Not like this. But the thought of losing your feelings for Zayne, of letting go of the love that had been a part of you for so long—it felt like a different kind of death.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Sylus nodded, his hands still steady on your shoulders. “I know. But I’ve got you, sweetie. We’ll get through this.”

You nodded, feeling the tears fall freely now. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean on someone else. To let Sylus’s strength carry you, if only for a little while.

“We’ll get you to a doctor in the N109 zone,” he said quietly. “Someone who can help, someone who won’t ask too many questions. But after that… you need to make a decision, Y/N. Whether you want the surgery or not, you need to choose. I’ll support you, whatever you decide.”

You nodded, knowing that the time for running was over. You couldn’t keep pretending this wasn’t happening. The flowers had taken root, and now it was up to you to decide how to survive.

Zayne sat at his desk, staring down at the empty appointment slot on his tablet. It had been weeks since you missed your first check-up, and at first, he didn’t think much of it—Hunters had unpredictable schedules, after all. But then you missed the next one. And the one after that. Now, weeks had passed without so much as a text from you, and an uneasy feeling had settled deep in his gut. You were never this irresponsible about your health.

He tried reaching out—texts, calls—but all had gone unanswered. That was when real concern started to gnaw at him. The you he knew wouldn’t just vanish like that, especially not from something as crucial as your medical check-ups. Something was wrong.

He didn’t like the feeling. In fact, it twisted in his chest, growing heavier by the day. He’d dealt with plenty of patients who disappeared on him, but you were different. You always kept in touch, always made an effort to keep things light even when you were battered from a mission. But now? Silence.

Sighing, Zayne grabbed his coat and decided to take matters into his own hands. He needed to check on you in person. He knew where your apartment was—he’d dropped off medicine there more times than he could count after your particularly rough assignments. His job required him to keep an eye on his patients, but with you, it was more than that. He hated the way his thoughts kept drifting back to you.

The streets leading to your apartment were quiet as he made his way over, the familiar hum of the city blending into the background. His mind raced as he walked up the stairs to your door, running over all the possibilities: maybe you were hurt, maybe you were sick, maybe you were avoiding him. That last one gnawed at him harder than the others.

When he finally reached your apartment, Zayne rang the doorbell, waiting for a response. Silence. He knocked this time, but there was no movement, no sound coming from within. His heart sank a little, and he tried the handle. Locked.

“Y/N?” he called out, pressing his ear to the door. Nothing.

He felt his pulse quicken. He checked the windows, walked around the perimeter, hoping for some sign that you were there. But the place was eerily still. It was clear you hadn’t been home for a while. The anxiety that had been simmering in the back of his mind began to boil over.

Zayne pulled out his phone and scrolled to Tara’s number. If anyone knew where you were, it would be her. You were inseparable as fellow Hunters, practically glued to each other on and off the field. If something was wrong, Tara would have noticed.

The phone rang, each buzz tightening the knot in his stomach, until finally, Tara’s voice came through.

“Zayne? What’s up?”

“Hey, Tara,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Have you seen Y/N lately? She’s missed a couple of appointments, and I just went by her apartment. She’s not there, and she hasn’t been answering my calls.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Zayne’s chest tightened at the silence. Tara wasn’t usually one to hesitate.

“Zayne…” Her voice softened. “She’s on leave.”

“Leave?” His brow furrowed. “Since when? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She filed for leave about a week and a half ago,” Tara explained, her tone tinged with worry. “She hasn’t been herself lately. I mean, she’s not feeling well and went on sick leave… I figured she needed some time to recover, but I don’t know where she went.”

Zayne’s grip on his phone tightened. “Wait, she’s been sick?”

“I don’t know how bad, but it’s been getting worse. I tried to get her to rest, but you know Y/N. She’s stubborn. Always pushing herself too hard.” Tara sighed on the other end. “I haven’t been able to reach her since she left either. I thought maybe she just needed space, but… I don’t know, Zayne. She told me she’ll come back when she feels better.”

Zayne’s mind raced. Sick? That explained your recent absence from your appointments, but why hadn’t you come to him? Why hadn’t you said anything? And where the hell were you now? The idea of you out there, alone, battling something serious without any support—it made his stomach turn. He was supposed to be your physician. Who else could you trust more in this situation? 

“Thanks, Tara,” he said quickly. “If you hear from her, let me know immediately.”

“You too,” Tara said, her voice growing softer with concern. “I hope she’s okay.”

Zayne hung up, his thoughts swirling in a storm of worry and frustration. This wasn’t just a case of missing appointments. You were sick, and you hadn’t told anyone what it is that you’re feeling. Not Tara, not the Association, and not him. The thought of you out there somewhere, getting worse by the day, hit him hard.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He wasn’t going to let this slide. He needed to find you, and fast. And if you were too stubborn to ask for help, well, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give it to you anyway. You didn’t get to disappear on him. Not like this. Not when it felt like something was so deeply, dangerously wrong.

The underground clinic in the N109 Zone was dimly lit, the scent of antiseptic and metal lingering in the air. Sylus sat beside you, his crimson eyes fixed on the makeshift doctor as she examined your condition. The doctor, a woman with worn hands and tired eyes, shook her head slightly, pulling back from the dim glow of her equipment. Sylus told you she’s the only one in the area who specializes in Hanahaki disease.

“It’s as I suspected,” she said quietly, her voice barely carrying over the hum of old machines. “The remedies I’ve given her will alleviate some of the symptoms—the coughing, the pain—but they won’t stop the disease. Hanahaki can only be cured one way.”

You knew what she was going to say before she even spoke the words. You felt it every time you coughed, every time a petal slipped from your lips, every time the thorny vines twisted deeper into your lungs. Hanahaki Disease was a cruel sickness. Only unrequited love could birth it, and only love returned could stop it.

Sylus stood, pacing the small clinic room, his fists clenched tight. “So what’s the point of this?” he growled. “You’re telling me she’s just going to keep getting worse?”

The doctor nodded grimly. “I’ve seen cases like this before. Without reciprocation, the flowers will continue to bloom. The disease will spread. It will choke her from the inside out.” Her eyes shifted to you, softening with pity. “She’ll have to make a choice soon. Either have the flowers removed surgically and forget her feelings entirely, or…”

“Or die,” you finished for her, your voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor didn’t respond, but the silence was enough.

Sylus slammed his fist into the nearest counter, rattling the tools scattered across its surface. “There has to be another way.”

The doctor said nothing. She’d already given her answer.

You shifted uncomfortably in the worn cot, feeling the sharp sting of another thorn scratching at your throat. You pressed a hand to your mouth, and when you pulled it away, you saw more petals—vibrant, soft, and hauntingly beautiful. The irony wasn’t lost on you: love, something meant to be pure and life-giving, was slowly killing you.

Sylus knelt beside you, his frustration giving way to concern. He grabbed your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “You can’t keep doing this, Y/N. You need real help.”

You met his gaze, seeing the worry etched deep into his features. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, that you could push through this. But the truth was, you didn’t know how much longer you could keep going. Each day, the flowers bloomed more aggressively. Each day, you felt your strength slipping away. And the one person who could save you—Zayne—was unreachable, tangled in a new relationship, unaware of the feelings you’d been hiding.

“I don’t want to forget him,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Sylus’s expression darkened. “You’re dying for a man who doesn’t even know you’re dying because of him.”

You knew he was right. You’d seen Zayne’s smile when Emma came to his office. Zayne wasn’t yours to love, not anymore. Maybe he never was. But the thought of forgetting him entirely—of erasing every moment, every memory, every flicker of what could have been—was unbearable.

“I can’t,” you murmured. “Not yet.”

Sylus let out a slow breath, his frustration palpable, but he didn’t push further. He simply stayed by your side, silent but steadfast, offering the only comfort he could in this grim situation.

Days passed in a haze of pain and exhaustion. The makeshift remedies from the underground doctors kept the worst of the symptoms at bay, but they couldn’t stop the inevitable. The flowers continued to bloom, their roots digging deeper into your chest. You could feel them, a constant presence now, weighing down your lungs, stealing your breath little by little.

One night, as you lay in bed at Sylus’s place, you woke to another coughing fit. This time, it wasn’t just petals that came up—there were stems, long and twisted, covered in thorns. You pressed a trembling hand to your chest, feeling the flowers pressing against your ribs, desperate to grow, desperate to take over. You couldn’t stop them.

Sylus found you sitting on the bathroom floor, clutching your chest, petals and stems scattered across the tiles. He didn’t say anything at first. He just knelt beside you, his expression a mix of anger and helplessness.

“You don’t have much time left, do you?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. You hadn’t realized how weak you’d become until that moment, how much the disease had taken from you. The once-strong Hunter now sat in a heap, broken by love that was never meant to be.

Sylus grabbed his phone, his voice tense as he called another doctor. “She needs real help. Now.”

But deep down, you both knew the truth. There was no real cure for Hanahaki—not unless Zayne’s love was returned. And that hope was slipping further out of reach with each passing day.

The dim lighting of Sylus’s home did little to soothe your nerves. After another coughing fit that left you weakened and breathless, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the bouquet of petals in your hand—pale, soft, and soaked in blood. The weight of your condition felt more unbearable with every passing day, the flowers pushing closer to your heart, the thorns digging deeper into your lungs. Yet, even after everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to agree to the surgery that would rip not only the flowers from you but also your feelings for Zayne.

There was a knock on the door. Sylus entered, followed closely by the underground doctor from the N109 zone. She carried a bag of supplies, her face etched with the same quiet concern you’d come to expect from her.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” Sylus began, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He took a seat beside you, his crimson eyes meeting yours. “The remedies we’ve been giving you… they’re not enough. You’re getting worse.”

“I know,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “But I’m not ready for the surgery. I can’t just… forget.”

The doctor stepped forward, glancing at Sylus before speaking. “Y/N, I understand your hesitation. But we’ve been talking, and there might be another option.”

You looked up, confused. “Another option?”

“It’s not a cure,” she clarified, her tone careful, “but there’s a treatment we could try. It won’t stop the disease entirely, but it could slow it down—buy you more time, at least. It would alleviate some of the more aggressive symptoms, like the coughing and the thorn growth.”

Your hope flickered. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

The doctor exchanged a quick glance with Sylus, then spoke again. “The treatment is experimental, and the resources here in the N109 zone are… limited. We don’t have the proper equipment to administer it safely. You’d have to go back to Linkon City, to Akso Hospital.”

Linkon City. The name sent a jolt of fear and longing through you. It meant facing everything you were trying to run from—Zayne, his new relationship with Emma, the memories you were desperate to hold onto. But it also meant the possibility of relief, of not feeling like you were drowning every time you took a breath.

“How does it work?” you asked warily, your eyes darting between the doctor and Sylus.

“The treatment will slow the growth of the flowers,” she explained. “It won’t cure the disease, but it’ll suppress the symptoms long enough for us to manage them. It’ll give you more time to decide what you want to do.”

Sylus crossed his arms, his gaze heavy on you. “It’s the best option right now, Y/N. Better than sitting here, wasting away.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Going back to Linkon meant stepping right back into Zayne’s world. You didn’t know if you could handle seeing him again, knowing that you still loved him and that he had moved on. But the alternative—letting the disease run its course, with no other options left—was becoming harder to endure.

“What if it doesn’t work?” you asked quietly, fear creeping into your voice.

The doctor’s face softened. “It’s a risk, I won’t lie. But right now, doing nothing is a bigger risk.”

You clenched the sheets in your hands, the conflicting emotions inside you swirling like a storm. You wanted to believe that this new treatment would help, that it would give you enough time to figure things out. But deep down, a part of you knew this was a gamble.

“I don’t know if I can go back there,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Zayne… he…”

Sylus placed a hand on your shoulder, his expression firm but kind. “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to. But you can’t die like this, Y/N. Not when there’s still a chance, even if it’s a small one.”

The doctor nodded. “I’ll arrange everything with Akso Hospital. They have the facilities and the staff to administer the treatment safely. You can be in and out, no one needs to know you’re there.”

You swallowed hard, the idea of returning to Linkon gnawing at you. But the weight of the disease was becoming too much to bear. If this treatment really could slow it down, even for a little while, maybe it was worth the risk. You didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not without trying something.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “I’ll go.”

Sylus’s hand tightened on your shoulder briefly, a silent show of support. The doctor nodded, already pulling out her comms to make the necessary arrangements.

“I’ll set it up for tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll get you to Linkon, get the treatment started, and bring you back here before anyone even knows you’re gone.”

You nodded, but deep down, a part of you wasn’t convinced. Something about this didn’t feel right. But you were too exhausted, too weak to argue. For now, you would hold on to the hope that this “treatment” would give you the time you desperately needed. Time to figure out what came next—whether you could keep running from the love that was slowly killing you, or whether you had no choice but to let it go.

As the doctor left to make the arrangements, you lay back against the pillow, the weight of the decision settling over you like a heavy cloak. You had no idea what awaited you in Linkon. All you knew was that whatever happened, it would bring you closer to the inevitable.

Zayne sat in his office at Akso Hospital, his fingers tapping restlessly on the desk. Something had been gnawing at the back of his mind for weeks—Y/N’s sudden disappearance from her regular checkups, the silence she’d maintained despite his attempts to reach out. She had always been stubborn, always tough, but this felt different. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

A message buzzed on his comm, interrupting his thoughts. It was from Greyson. Zayne opened the message, his eyes skimming over the text quickly:

“Heard a rumor. A Hunter suffering from Hanahaki Disease is being admitted to Akso. Thought you’d want to know.”

His heart stopped. Hanahaki Disease. He hadn’t heard of anyone in the Hunter circle suffering from it—no one except… No. It couldn’t be.

Zayne read the message again, his mind spinning. The only Hunter who had been coming to him regularly, the only one who had left without explanation, was Y/N. His mind raced, replaying every moment from their last appointment—the slight cough she tried to hide, the way she seemed distant, and the sudden leave she took from the Hunters Association. The pieces began to fit together like a cruel puzzle, one that painted a picture of her suffering in silence. 

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Y/N had been in love with someone, and the disease had taken root because the other hadn’t returned those feelings. And now, because of that, she was dying. Why didn’t she tell him? There could only be one reason why she didn’t ask for his help, her only physician. 

Zayne stood abruptly, knocking a few files off his desk as he scrambled to process what this meant. He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt wash over him—he had been blind to her feelings, caught up in his new relationship with Emma, while Y/N had been silently withering away. He was so in sync with Emma, so alike, that when she asked if they could try being more than colleagues and friends, he didn’t know why he actually agreed to date. He must tell you that. He must tell you that he…

Oh. He does. For so long. 

He couldn’t waste another second. Grabbing his coat, Zayne rushed out of his office, his mind focused on one thing: finding Y/N before it was too late.

He tapped his phone, dialing a doctor from the network who was set to oversee the patient’s treatment. The voice on the other end answered quickly.

“Zayne? What’s going on?”

“I need to know about the patient coming in with Hanahaki Disease. The Hunter,” Zayne said, his voice tense, barely controlled. “When are they being admitted?”

There was a pause, then the voice responded, hesitant. “That’s confidential information, Zayne. I can’t just—”

“It’s Y/N,” Zayne interrupted, his tone sharp. “She’s the one with Hanahaki Disease, isn’t she?”

Another pause, this one longer, more telling. “Zayne… I don’t know all the details, but… yes. She’s scheduled for surgery tomorrow.”

His heart dropped. Surgery. Hanahaki Disease could only be cured in two ways—either by having her love returned or by undergoing surgery to remove the flowers. But the surgery came with a cruel price: it would erase her feelings completely. Y/N wouldn’t just lose the disease; she would lose her love for him, and all the memories tied to it.

Zayne’s grip tightened on the comm. “Cancel the surgery. I’m coming.”

“Zayne, you can’t—”

“Cancel it,” Zayne said firmly. “I’m not going to let her go through with this without knowing the truth.”

He disconnected the call, his heart racing as he stormed down the hallways of the hospital. His thoughts were a whirlwind of panic and guilt. He should’ve noticed sooner. He should’ve been there for her. But there was still time—he had to believe that. He could fix this, he had to.

Zayne made his way to his car, his mind already racing ahead to what he would say to her. He had no idea how she would react, or if she even wanted to see him after everything, but he couldn’t let her go through with the surgery. He had to tell her how he felt. Because the truth was, somewhere along the way, his feelings for her had grown too.

As he drove through the city, his thoughts lingered on Y/N—on her strength, her stubbornness, and the way she had always kept her distance, even when he tried to get close. He had been blind, wrapped up in his own life, too focused on the surface of things. But now, he understood. And he wasn’t going to let her suffer in silence any longer.

Zayne’s mind was racing as the car sped towards Akso Hospital, the weight of everything crashing down on him. He didn’t know if she would even listen to him. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t let her go through that surgery without knowing that he was ready to fight for her—for them.

For the first time, Zayne realized just how much he cared for Y/N. How much she meant to him, and how blind he had been to the quiet way she had always been there. He couldn’t let her lose that, not when he could still save her.

Tomorrow, you’ll be leaving for Linkon and you couldn’t sleep. Your mind is everywhere until you found yourself once again in the bathroom. The dim, suffocating air of the room wrapped around you like a cold embrace. Your breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as you hunched over the sink, your hands trembling as you help yourself hurl the white rose. The familiar metallic taste filled your mouth, but this time, it was worse—far worse than it had ever been.

When you finally dared to glance down, your heart nearly stopped. There, lying in the sink, was the largest bloom yet: a full white rose, its petals soft and fragile, but tangled in sharp, vicious thorns. Blood stained the delicate petals, your blood, and the sight of it sent a shudder down your spine. You clutched the edge of the sink for support, your vision swimming as pain tore through your chest.

This was it. The disease had progressed further than you had imagined. No makeshift remedy could stop it now. There was no time to experiment.

The thorns, tangled and sharp, had felt like they were tearing you apart from the inside out. The flowers—the symbol of love that you couldn’t escape—had bloomed in full force, reminding you of the feelings you had tried so desperately to bury. Every cough felt like a knife in your lungs, but it was more than just physical pain. It was the heartbreak of loving someone who would never love you back.

You stumbled back from the sink, collapsing onto the floor, clutching your chest as you struggled to breathe. The decision you had been avoiding for so long now weighed heavily on you, inescapable. You couldn’t survive this. The love that had rooted itself deep within you was slowly killing you, and there was no way to keep running.

Sylus found you moments later, rushing into the bathroom when he heard your weak cries for help. His crimson eyes widened when he saw you, his usual stoic expression breaking with a mix of shock and concern. He knelt beside you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder, his voice low.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his tone softer than you had ever heard it. “This… you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Your throat felt raw as you coughed again, tasting blood on your lips. You couldn’t even muster the strength to argue, your body finally betraying you in the worst way possible. Sylus helped you sit up, his eyes briefly glancing at the bloodied rose in the sink. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face told you he understood.

“I can’t… I can’t fight it anymore,” you rasped, your voice barely audible. “I need the surgery.”

Sylus’s eyes flickered with something that almost looked like relief, but it was tempered by the knowledge of what the surgery meant. He knew the cost—the erasure of your feelings for Zayne, the love that had been such a painful part of you for so long. But he also knew there was no other choice now.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded weakly, wiping at your mouth with a shaking hand. “It’s the only way. I… I don’t want to die like this.”

Sylus exhaled slowly, standing up and helping you to your feet. “Then I’ll make the arrangements. We’ll leave for Linkon as soon as you’re ready.”

Your legs wobbled beneath you, but you managed to steady yourself with Sylus’s support. The weight of your decision settled over you like a heavy blanket—stifling, but somehow also freeing. You would lose your love for Zayne, that much was certain. But at least you would survive. At least the pain would stop. And you could get back to work. You could see him again and act like nothing happened. It would be better for everyone if you just didn’t feel. 

As you packed your things for the journey back to Linkon City, your heart felt strangely hollow. There was no going back now. You were going to let the surgery take away everything—the flowers, the thorns, and the love that had nearly consumed you. You would lose the part of yourself that had been tied to Zayne, but maybe that was for the best.

Maybe, in the end, forgetting him and his memories would be the only way to move forward.

With a final, shaky breath, you looked out the window, knowing this was your last chance to feel the weight of your love before it was ripped away forever.

The familiar, sterile scent of Akso Hospital greeted you the moment you arrived in your room. The journey back to Linkon had been long and exhausting, and your body felt more fragile than ever. Every breath seemed to rattle within your chest, the flowers pressing harder against your lungs as the disease worsened.

Sylus had helped you settle into the bed, his usual stoic demeanor faltering slightly as he glanced at you with concern. “I’ll check in on you later,” he said, his voice gruff but laced with an underlying care. “I can’t be seen much around here, you know that. If you need anything, let me know.”

You nodded weakly, barely managing to muster a response. All you could think about was the surgery—the thought of the flowers, and your feelings for Zayne, being torn out of you for good. The relief of that thought was tinged with sadness, a weight that settled heavily in your heart.

Just as you closed your eyes to try to find some rest, the door creaked open.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

“Y/N.”

His voice—steady, but holding the edge of something raw—cut through the quiet room like a blade. Your eyes snapped open, and you turned your head to see Zayne standing in the doorway, his expression torn between worry and something deeper, something more desperate.

You sat up slowly, your body protesting the movement as pain flared in your chest. “Zayne… how did you—”

“I found out,” he interrupted, stepping further into the room. “I found out about your condition, about the Hanahaki. I—” He faltered, as if the words were too heavy to form. His eyes were wide with something you hadn’t seen before—panic.

You shook your head, cutting him off. “Zayne, it’s too late. I’m getting the surgery.”

He froze, standing still as his eyes locked onto yours. “You don’t have to do this.”

Your heart clenched painfully at the words, but you forced yourself to keep your expression steady. “Yes, I do,” you replied softly. “I can’t keep living like this. These flowers, this pain… it’s killing me.”

Zayne’s eyes darkened, his hands clenched at his sides. “You don’t have to lose your feelings for me. You can survive this without giving that up.”

You let out a bitter laugh, your voice trembling with the effort. “How, Zayne? You don’t return my feelings, and this disease… it only stops when the love is mutual.” You met his gaze, trying to convey the finality of your decision. “I don’t have a choice.”

He took another step closer, his face tight with emotion. “But you do have a choice. You don’t need to do this surgery. We can figure something out—together.”

You shook your head, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “There’s nothing to figure out. I’ve already decided. This is the only way.”

Zayne’s eyes were stormy with conflict. You could see the guilt eating away at him, the pain of realizing what his absence had cost you. But you also knew he wasn’t here to confess his love. He was here because he cared, because he felt responsible. And as much as that hurt, you couldn’t let that be the reason to hold onto hope.

“Zayne, please…” Your voice cracked as you looked at him, your body trembling with exhaustion. “Just go. Let me do this.”

He moved toward you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. The contact was warm, his touch familiar and comforting, but you could feel the hesitation in him, the uncertainty that hung in the air.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you pulled away from his touch, shaking your head. “You won’t lose me, Zayne. You’ll still have me as a friend, as someone you care about. But I can’t… I can’t keep loving you like this.”

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over. This was it. This was the moment you had to let go, no matter how much it hurt. You couldn’t bear to love him any longer, not when it was destroying you from the inside.

Zayne’s expression faltered, his hand falling back to his side. “Y/N…”

“Zayne, just go,” you whispered. 

“Y/N, wait,” he said, his voice low but urgent.

You blinked up at him, confused. “Zayne, please, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

But he wasn’t listening. His hand gripped yours as if it was the only thing keeping him steady, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his voice strained.

You frowned, your heart sinking. “What is it?”

His eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time, you saw more than just concern. There was something deeper, something conflicted.

“About Emma—the other doctor,” he started, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not what you think. We’re not… It’s not as serious as you believe.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly shook your head, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. “Zayne, it doesn’t matter. You’re with her, and that’s fine. I’ve already accepted that.”

“No, you haven’t,” he said sharply, stepping closer. His eyes flashed with frustration. “And I haven’t either. I ended things with her.”

You stared at him, trying to make sense of his words. “What do you mean?”

Zayne hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing as if he was gathering the courage to say something he’d been holding back for too long. “I’ve been avoiding my feelings, Y/N. For a long time. I thought keeping things professional between us was the right thing to do, the smart thing to do.” He paused, searching your eyes. “But seeing you like this… seeing you suffering because of me…”

His voice trailed off, thick with emotion, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. This was a side of him you had never seen, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. You opened your mouth to speak, but he wasn’t done.

“I didn’t want to face it,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I thought that by staying focused on my work, on our roles, I could keep things simple. But I can’t anymore. Not when I know what’s happening to you. Not when I realize I’m the reason you’ve been hurting.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in, and you felt the familiar sting of tears building behind your eyes. “Zayne… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been scared, Y/N. Scared of what it would mean if I let myself feel more for you. But I can’t hide from it anymore. I care about you—more than I should have ever let myself admit.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, his words sinking in deeper with every breath you took. Your heart was racing, your mind a whirlwind of emotions you had thought were on the verge of being erased forever.

“Zayne…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You… you never said anything.”

He shook his head, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have been honest with you, with myself. But I’m here now, and I’m telling you that I don’t want you to go through with the surgery.” He squeezed your hand gently, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “Don’t erase your feelings, Y/N. Don’t erase us.”

You stared at him, your heart aching with the weight of his words. For so long, you had believed that he would never return your feelings, that your love for him would remain unrequited. But now, here he was, asking you to give him a chance. Asking you to believe that it wasn’t too late.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you murmured, your throat tight with emotion. “I was ready to move on, to forget…”

Zayne leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t have to forget. We can figure this out—together. Please, Y/N… give us a chance.”

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks as you looked into his eyes, the weight of your love for him pressing hard against your chest. The flowers had bloomed so fully within you, so painfully, but for the first time, you felt a spark of hope.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

“I am too,” Zayne replied softly, his thumb brushing away one of your tears. “But I’d rather face that fear with you than lose you because of it.”

The silence between you was thick, filled with the weight of everything unsaid, everything you had both been too afraid to confront. But now, in the quiet of the hospital room, with the flowers inside you on the verge of consuming you, there was a new possibility blooming—a chance for something real.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Zayne smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Then don’t.”

The decision still weighed heavily on you—the surgery, the flowers, the uncertainty of what the future would bring. But in this moment, with Zayne by your side, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late after all.

The tension in the room hung thick as you gazed at Zayne, his forehead still resting gently against yours, his hand holding yours like an anchor. You could feel the weight of your decision pressing down on you, the reality of your situation still swirling in your mind.

The surgery—the removal of your feelings and the flowers that had ravaged your body—was supposed to be your salvation. It was supposed to be your way out of the pain, the only option you had left to survive. But now, with Zayne in front of you, admitting the feelings you had thought would forever go unspoken, the certainty of that choice began to crack.

Could you really walk away from this now? From him?

With a deep, shuddering breath, you pulled back slightly to look into Zayne’s eyes, your hand still tightly clasped in his. The fear and confusion swirling in your chest didn’t vanish, but something else—a glimmer of hope—was beginning to take root.

“I can’t promise that this will work,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you spoke the truth that trembled within you. “I don’t know if my feelings will ever go away, or if the flowers will stop growing…”

Zayne shook his head, his eyes softening. “I’m not asking for guarantees,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet intensity. “I’m just asking for a chance. A chance for us. I… I like you, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened as emotion swelled inside you. For so long, you had been ready to let go, to numb yourself to the possibility of anything more. But now, with him sitting by your side, his touch grounding you in a way you hadn’t thought possible, the idea of walking away felt unbearable.

You didn’t want to let go—not of him, not of what could be.

With a slow exhale, you made the decision that had been forming in your heart ever since Zayne walked through the door. “I’ll… I’ll delay the surgery,” you said softly, your voice wavering but resolute. “Just for now.”

Zayne’s grip on your hand tightened, relief flooding his expression as his shoulders sagged slightly. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for giving this a chance.”

You nodded, your heart still pounding in your chest, but the dread you’d carried for so long felt a little lighter, like a weight that was finally beginning to lift.

As the hours passed, Zayne stayed by your side, refusing to leave. He sat close, his presence warm and steady as he talked quietly with you about anything and everything—his work, your missions as a Hunter, the lives you both led before this moment. It was as if the space between you, once filled with unspoken tension, was slowly being bridged by the quiet understanding that had always been there but never fully acknowledged.

And as the evening settled over Linkon City, something unexpected began to happen.

The pressure in your chest, once unbearable, began to ease. The sharp, suffocating pain of the flowers pressing against your lungs softened. You coughed lightly, out of habit more than necessity, but there were no thorns, no petals. You touched your chest, almost disbelieving, feeling the absence of the usual tightness.

Zayne noticed immediately, his eyes widening as he watched you. “Y/N?” he asked, concern still lacing his voice.

You took a deep breath—a real, full breath—and felt the difference. “The pain,” you said slowly, your voice filled with disbelief. “It’s… it’s not as bad.”

Zayne’s eyes softened as he leaned closer. “The flowers,” he murmured, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand. “They’re withering, aren’t they?”

You nodded, still too stunned to speak. The flowers that had been blooming within you for so long, the painful manifestation of your unreturned love, were beginning to wilt. The thorns were loosening their grip, the petals curling inward, no longer feeding off the relentless ache in your heart.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of relief, of hope. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t a cure—but it was a start. A small sign that maybe, just maybe, your heart was beginning to heal.

Zayne squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. He closes the distance between you, lips meeting the skin of your forehead.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you let out a small, shaky laugh, overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events. “I missed you so bad,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Zayne smiled, the warmth in his expression lighting up the room. “So did I.”

And with that, a fragile but beautiful sense of hope bloomed between you, far more powerful than any of the flowers that had once threatened to destroy you. 

As the night deepened, you knew that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, that your journey with Zayne was only just beginning. But for the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid. You were ready to face whatever came next, together.

The flowers within you may have started to wither, but something far more enduring was taking their place—a glimmer of love, of possibility, of the future you could now dare to hope for. 

Zayne sat on the side of your bed, looking at you. You’ve just now realized the bag under his eyes and how much his hair wasn’t as kept as it always was. He looks tired. 

He holds your face again, looming close. You close your eyes and wait for him to close the distance. You can feel his breath on yours, slow and calming, until his lips softly land on yours. 

Back in the dimly lit underground of the N109 Zone, Sylus lounged in his usual chair, legs crossed casually as he flicked through his papers of work. Mephisto, his sleek, mechanical crow, perched on the edge of his desk. Its dark metal feathers glinted under the low light as its red eyes glowed with an eerie pulse. The crow had just returned from its latest mission, flying back from Linkon City with an update Sylus had been waiting on. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as Mephisto clicked softly, a sign it had recorded new information.

With a tap on the crow’s head, Sylus activated the playback, listening intently as a holographic projection materialized in the air between them. It showed clips of Y/N, her once-pale face now regaining a hint of color, the dark shadows under her eyes starting to fade. She was walking through the corridors of Akso Hospital, slower than her usual stride, but there was an unmistakable strength returning to her movements.

Sylus smirked, leaning back in his chair. “She’s getting better,” he murmured, satisfied. His crimson eyes flicked over the scenes of Y/N interacting with Zayne, watching as she spoke with him, her body language more relaxed than it had been in weeks. He noted the way Zayne hovered protectively, never too far, a subtle guardian by her side.

Mephisto clicked again, relaying more footage from its surveillance of the city. Sylus took it all in, his mind piecing together what had unfolded. Y/N had made her choice—not to go through with the surgery just yet. Instead, she was taking her chances with Zayne, exploring what could be between them.

Sylus’ fingers drummed lightly on the armrest of his chair as he considered it. He’d always respected Y/N’s strength, admired her resilience even when she was at her weakest. That she had survived the Hanahaki long enough to make it back to Linkon—and now, was seemingly thriving—was a testament to her will.

“You made the right call, sweetie,” he said to no one in particular, his voice low but approving.

Mephisto fluttered its wings, a sound like the shifting of gears, and Sylus gave the crow a nod of approval. He was satisfied with what he saw. Y/N had her path now, and though Sylus knew better than to interfere too much in her affairs, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride at her recovery.

“Keep an eye on her, Mephisto,” he muttered, his voice turning sharp again. “But let her be. She’s strong enough to handle things from here.”

The mechanical crow clicked in acknowledgment before it took off into the air, disappearing through one of the many grates in the ceiling, off to continue its watch from the shadows. Sylus watched it go, the flicker of a smile lingering on his lips.

Y/N would be fine. She had her own battles to fight now, and with Zayne by her side, she had a chance. That was all Sylus could have hoped for.

With a quiet sigh, he stood up and headed toward the doorway, his boots echoing against the metal floor. There were other things to handle in N109, but for now, knowing that Y/N was on her way to healing—both from the flowers and from the tangled feelings that had plagued her—was enough to put his mind at ease.

As Sylus watched Mephisto disappear through the grate, the flicker of satisfaction from Y/N’s recovery still lingering, a sudden tightness gripped his chest. It wasn’t the usual tension from a long day in the shadows of N109—it was sharper, more visceral. His brows furrowed, and before he could fully process the sensation, a sharp cough escaped his throat.

He doubled over slightly, hand instinctively rising to his mouth. For a moment, the metallic taste of blood made him grimace, but as he pulled his hand away, what caught his attention was the small, delicate object that had landed on his palm.

A petal.

The sight of it made Sylus freeze. He stared at the soft, pastel pink petal—a contrast to the dim, metallic world around him. His eyes narrowed, his mind racing. The Hanahaki Disease. He’d seen its ravages before, watched Y/N suffer under its grasp. But this? His own symptoms? He couldn’t quite believe it.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, tossing the petal onto his desk. The sharp throb in his chest hadn’t fully subsided, but it wasn’t the same as what he had witnessed in Y/N. There was no choking on thorns or overwhelming floral invasion. This was... different. A strain less aggressive, yet unmistakable in its cause.

Hanahaki. Unrequited love.

Sylus let out a low, humorless chuckle, his crimson eyes darkening as the realization hit him. He was no stranger to matters of the heart, but he’d always kept those feelings locked away, never giving them enough room to grow—or so he thought. This was proof that something had taken root, something he couldn’t deny anymore.

And there was only one person who came to mind.

Y/N.

He didn’t need to ask himself why. Seeing her leave, watching her struggle to fight the same disease, knowing he couldn’t do more than offer her shelter and assistance—it had stirred something in him. A feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge. He had helped her out of concern, out of duty, out of their connection—but there had been something more.

The petal on his desk was proof of that.

Sylus stared at the petal on his desk, its delicate form unmistakably belonging to a lily. The pristine white hue stood out starkly against the gritty backdrop of his desk, a contrast that was almost mocking. Of course, it had to be lilies—symbolic of purity and renewal, the very antithesis of his hardened existence in N109. He couldn’t help but scoff at the irony.

Lilies.

He picked up the petal between his fingers, turning it over as he examined it closer. Unlike the thorn-covered roses Y/N had been coughing up, these petals were smooth, soft, and almost harmless in comparison. But he knew better. They were far from benign.

The fact that he was coughing up lilies of all things wasn’t lost on him. They represented something gentle, something almost... fragile. But Sylus was anything but fragile, and yet, here he was, entangled in the same affliction that had nearly destroyed Y/N. He sighed, tossing the petal back on the desk, watching it flutter down like a weightless reminder of what had been growing inside him.

And now, there was no denying the truth—he had feelings for her. Feelings that he had buried so deep they’d only surfaced now, in this frustrating, blooming form. Unlike Y/N’s roses, his strain wasn’t lethal, but that didn’t make it any less concerning. He wouldn’t let it get worse. He refused to be bound by something as foolish as unspoken love.

He glanced at his comm device again, fingers hovering over the screen before he pressed down, confirming the appointment with Dr. Maren for the next day. He wouldn’t let this linger, not like Y/N had. Sylus didn’t like loose ends, and this, now that he knew, was a loose end he intended to tie up.

But the thought of Y/N remained in his mind as he sat there, the image of her recovery still fresh. She was doing better. The flowers inside her were beginning to wither, a hopeful sign that her heart was healing. That gave him some measure of relief, knowing she was on a path that might lead to happiness—whether it involved him or not.

As for him... Sylus wasn’t sure where this would end. He wasn’t the type to dwell on love or let emotions cloud his judgment. But the lilies said otherwise. They were there, quietly blooming inside him, pushing him toward feelings he hadn’t intended to face.

“Well,” he muttered to himself, standing up from his desk, “I guess we’ll see how this plays out.”

The mechanical whir of Mephisto’s wings echoed faintly in the background as the crow returned from its surveillance, landing quietly on its perch. Sylus spared it a glance, giving the bird a small nod. There was always work to do, but for now, he had to focus on his next move.

Tomorrow, he'll see the doctor. And then, maybe—just maybe—he’d figure out what to do about the lilies. 

Sylus exhaled deeply, the weight of this new revelation pressing down on him. He couldn’t afford to let this disease grow. It wasn’t as severe as Y/N’s strain—he was lucky in that sense—but the fact that he had symptoms at all meant it could worsen if left unchecked.

He reached for his comm device, his fingers moving with purpose as he scrolled through his contacts. He needed answers, and he knew exactly who to call.

“Dr. Maren,” Sylus said as soon as the connection clicked. “I need to schedule a check-up. Something’s come up.”

There was a brief pause on the other end before Maren responded, the voice calm but attentive. “Sylus? I thought your plan to draw Y/N to Linkon worked. What’s the issue?”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, glancing at the petal again before he spoke. “It’s me. But it’s a mild strain.”

Another silence, this one longer, before Maren’s voice returned, more serious this time. “That’s not something to take lightly, even if it’s a mild case. How long have you had symptoms?”

Sylus closed his eyes, recalling the subtle tightness that had been plaguing him over the past few weeks. It hadn’t been enough to alarm him, but now it all made sense. “Not long. It’s manageable for now. But I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“I’ll fit you in tomorrow,” Maren replied swiftly. “Come to the clinic. We’ll run some tests.”

Sylus nodded to himself, feeling the weight of his situation sink in. “I’ll be there.”

He ended the call and leaned forward, hands steepling under his chin as he stared at the petal once more. It was a strange irony, being caught by the same disease that had nearly claimed Y/N. But there was no time for self-pity. He was pragmatic by nature—he would handle it like everything else in his life: methodically, without hesitation. 

Still, the realization that his feelings for Y/N had manifested into something so tangible made him pause. He had always kept his emotions buried, hidden under layers of cynicism and practicality. Now, those feelings were blooming—literally—whether he liked it or not.

A slow, grim smile crept onto his lips as he muttered to himself, “How funny.”

The next day would bring answers. But for now, Sylus remained where he was, staring at the petal on his desk, caught between amusement and resignation. His finger runs on his temple, looming over his crimson eye. 

At least he wasn’t dying. And if he would have to take the surgery, it didn’t matter. He would always remember you. Because your connection knows no physical bounds. You’re always connected. The string of fate connecting the two of you cannot be cut that easily.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. reblogs and comments are also greatly appreciated. thank you.

[solxamber]

If you haven’t gotten this already, maybe a part 2 to Idia x sentient npc reader?

Maybe they somehow find themselves in twst? Maybe isekai style (I’m stuck on you villainess fics lol)? Or if you had other ideas that’s totally fine too. (I’m not used to requesting 😭)

I really like your stuff so honestly I wanna give you as much creative freedom. Or if you feel like that fic is over/you don’t have inspo for it anymore that’s understandable too 😊

Keep up the amazing work!! 💖💖

Idia Shroud x Sentient NPC Part 2

Part 1 : here

Thank you for the request, and I'm glad you like my isekai fics <3

The moment you blink into existence in Twisted Wonderland, you’re not sure if this is real life or another game glitch. One minute you were comfortably breaking the fourth wall and wooing a gamer, and the next? You’re standing in front of an overgrown haunted house with a big “Night Raven College” sign. And a certain blue-haired, fire-topped guy is gaping at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

“W-WAIT,” Idia stammers, eyes wide behind his tablet as he stares at you. “This—This isn’t happening. There’s no way. Did I… did I actually summon an NPC?!”

You take one look at him—tousled hair, dark circles under his eyes, and the way his fingers hover over his tablet like it’s some sort of lifeline—and a grin tugs at your lips. Oh, this is gonna be good.

“Well, well, well,” you say, casually strolling over to him. “If it isn’t my favorite player. Miss me?”

Idia makes a noise somewhere between a squeak and a strangled gasp, his whole body freezing up. “Y-You—! You’re here! How are you here?! Did I—is this some cursed DLC? Am I in a nightmare? Oh my god, is this another event?!”

You lean in, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Nightmare? Babe, I thought you were happy to see me.”

Idia’s face flushes a deep red, and he yanks his hoodie up over his head, mumbling something incoherent into the fabric. “H-Happy? Who said anything about happy?! I didn’t sign up for a ‘real-life NPC invading my world’ edition!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? You weren’t just thinking about how much you’d like me if I were in the real world?”

He stiffens so hard it’s like his entire spine turned into a steel rod. “HOW DID YOU—NO. I didn’t—this isn’t—this is a glitch, it has to be! Or a fever dream. Or maybe I finally lost it after all those sleepless nights grinding for rare drops—"

"You're cute when you ramble," you interrupt with a smirk, enjoying watching him implode. "So, are you going to show me around this place, or should I just assume you’re too flustered to handle me?"

Idia stares at you like you’ve grown two extra heads. “Y-You’re just… okay with this? You’re literally… in a different dimension, and you’re fine?!”

You shrug. “Eh, it’s a step up from my last gig. Besides,” you add, leaning in closer, “I kinda like having you as my guide.”

His brain short-circuits for a full ten seconds. “G-GUIDE?! L-Like an actual dating sim?! Do you think this is a game?!”

You pause dramatically. “Isn’t everything a game?”

There’s an audible groan from behind you, and you turn to find Grim, your new furry audience member, smacking his face with his paw. “Great, just what we needed—another weirdo.”

Idia, still staring at you like you’re some kind of unholy glitch in his life’s code, manages to stammer out, “I—I can’t believe this is real. There’s no way this is real.”

You smirk. “It’s real, all right. And don’t pretend you’re not thrilled. I can practically hear your heart racing.”

His face flushes even deeper, and he clutches his tablet like it’s his last connection to sanity. “Okay, okay. You’re in Twisted Wonderland, fine. But this doesn’t mean you get to start… start messing with the plot!”

You grin. “Who says I’m here to follow the plot?”

Idia lets out a strangled noise, burying his face deeper in his hoodie. “This… this is too much. I’m not ready for this level of immersion. This is like, hardcore VR, but real! And with you here, it’s… it’s… OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I DO?!”

You put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at you. “Easy. You play the game, Idia. And let me show you how fun it can get when I’m the one writing the script.”

The look of sheer panic—and excitement—on his face is priceless. "Y-You're serious?!" he squeaks, not sure whether to pass out or burst into flames from sheer embarrassment. "But, like—what if this is a permanent event?! What if I never—"

"Oh, relax," you say, poking his chest lightly. "I'll make sure we both enjoy this little 'quest.'"

There’s another groan from Grim, but you ignore him, keeping your eyes locked on the flustered mess in front of you. Idia’s practically a puddle at this point, cheeks redder than Riddle’s roses, but you know he’s loving every second of it.

“Okay,” he mutters, glancing between you and his tablet. “Okay, I can work with this. Maybe it’s not a total catastrophe. I mean, you’re here, so—wait, does that mean you’re, like… my NPC now?”

You flash him a rogue grin. “If that’s what you want, I’m all yours.”

Idia blinks. Then, with the kind of realization that only a true gamer would have, he straightens up slightly. “I-Is this… the ultimate secret route?!”

"Could be," you say, leaning in closer. "You think you can handle it?"

He stares at you, wide-eyed and flustered beyond belief, but finally, he nods—though it's more of a nervous twitch than anything. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I-I can handle it. This is fine. Totally fine. Just… don’t, uh, don’t go rogue too much? I-I don’t think I can survive if you start rewriting my entire life!”

You laugh. “No promises, player.”

The panic in his eyes is real, but so is the smile slowly creeping onto his face. And as you stand there, facing him in this strange new world, you realize you’re both about to have a lot of fun.

"Welcome to the real game," you whisper, before pulling him into a kiss.

Idia promptly drops his tablet.

Masterlist

[choccy-milky]

Random but when you post something I always get excited thinking it's a new chapter 😭 I'm literally waiting by my phone for it

BAHAH IM SORRY ANONS ITS COMING SOON I SWEAR!! but im glad ur looking forward to it!! my damn outline ALONE is 21k words (tho im really happy with it and im excited for yall to read it) and although i still have to finish it + the drawing, HERES PART OF THE WIP IN THE MEANTIME🥹💖(also anon, who cares if u think youre terrible at art... DRAW ANYWAY!!!😤& ILY TOO💖 )

im definitely gonna write them as adults, and have ideas for some side stories i wanna do!!! the one i mentioned in the wattpad comment would be in writing, because i wanna write about seb and clora finally deciding to have their first kid (along with the process😏😏😏😏) and how sebs breeding kink ass will react to doing the devils tango with clora when its ACTUALLY gonna make a baby LMAO. plus how his overprotective ass will act when he finds out clora is LEGIT pregnant while theyre travelling/on the JOB, rather than just a pregnancy scare like last time BAHA. so yes, overly excited seb will defs be a thing in the future LOL. (though there are things i am just gonna keep in comic form, like their kids and stuff, bc i dont rly have ideas for any sort of epilogue with that. so if ppl wanna know about seb and cloras kids, they can just look at my art once i finally draw and post them ^^)

IVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS TOO and the hairclip would defs be different!! i just havent decided what it would be.... (bro's about go buy her something bedazzled from ardene or claire's or some shit 💀💀LMAO) as for the mascots, the snake for seb would defs still apply bc ive decided its their mascot for the school football team. but for clora no, i dont think bird/raven imagery would be a thing......tho maybe the school mascots can be the snakes AND ravens LMFAO. and then i can have seb look directly into the camera and say "well, clora, looks like we really are The Raven and the Snake."

@4ever2000lover BAHAHA YOULL SEE YOUR NIECE AND NEPHEW SOON I SWEAR!!! i have the sketches but i plan to finish them + post them once im done the last chap of my fic. but they ARE coming, i promise👀👀(and im rly excited for everyone to see their daughter and her name, bc im so proud of it LMAO. i used up my entire big brain quota for the year on it +the reasoning behind it🧠)

also @blue-space-dragon TYSM IM GLAD U LIKE MY ART AND HOW I DRAW MY BLORBOS🥹💖AND ALSO THAT U FIND IT APPETIZING LMAO😋💖

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✦

captain john price x f!reader (raven) | smut, 18+ | 4.2k

summary: when a seemingly bulletproof mission goes awry, captain price makes the vital mistake of pursuing the target alone and contributes to the chaos that almost claims the life of one of his men. When he returns, he lacks the humility to accept your reprimand lying down.

cw: mwiii spoiler free. war and violence, mentions of wounded, ooc price maybe a little? angst, enemies to enemies that fuck, reader is pathetically attracted to price because same, literally a voice kink fic disguised as a deep throating fic, very light degradation, bratty behaviour from reader, heavy face fucking, hair pulling, praise, gagging, very little aftercare.

price mlist | main mlist | taglist

It all goes tits up.

Shouts of distress arise across the coms in the CIA conference room, blaring through the headphones glued to the watchers’ heads. Ghost’s gruff voice calls out a casualty, leading General Shepard to launch out of his seat and crash his fist against the tabletop. Mugs of coffee tip over from the force of the impact, liquid bleeding into top secret documents- they aren’t his primary concern.

“Lieutenant, this is Gold Eagle. Is there an issue, Ghost?” Shepard’s voice snarls down the coms.

“Sir, it’s Soap- he’s been hit.”

Hanging your head between your shoulders, you barely register the orders that Shepard screams into the microphone of his headset, his spittle peppering the laptop screen where he oversees the mission descending into chaos. Your ears are ringing, your heart thumping wildly against your sternum. Further panic ensues, Gaz shouting a brief, hurried explanation of the mission breakdown. “… snipers in the mountain, sir. Had to dispatch them- I can’t see Captain Pri—”

“Bravo 2-6, this is Raven. Confirm Captain Price’s location,” you insist, swallowing the alarm that threatens to haemorrhage from your lips.

“Negative, Ma’am. Lost him while dispatching the snipers.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling your blood boil at The Captain’s recklessness. “Fuck!”

Your fingers blur over your keyboard, focusing your attention on John Price’s coms. Again, Shepard barks orders at Ghost, but you can’t hear him over your own heavy breathing and pressing tone as you address Price in a fury.

“Captain Price, this is Raven; confirm your location immediately!”

Silence at first. Coffee drips from the edge of the tabletop by your feet, pooling into the navy-blue carpet. It stains like blood, a dark smear. You can imagine it in Price’s camo uniform, spreading thick and fast from a bullet wound- a direct hit to the chest.

“We’re gonna lose Hassan.”

“Captain Price,” you yell down the microphone, simultaneously relieved to hear his voice and enraged at his increasingly frequent decision to go AWOL, “We will most definitely lose Hassan if I must bury every member of 141! Return to Team Bravo immediately!”

You’re almost certain you can hear Price’s teeth grind together, the enamel straining under the weight of his fury and threatening to crack down to the root. “Are you tellin’ me we let him go?”

“Captain Price, I am telling you that we were given faulty intel. I am telling you that we are sustaining heavy losses and that Sergeant MacTavish is critically wounded, and I am calling for EVAC!” Your knuckles are bleached where your fists hover over the keyboard, nails digging into your palms so hard you’re sure the indents they leave burrow straight to the bone as you await confirmation of Price’s retreat. “Task Force 141 is a priceless tool against Al-Qatala. I cannot afford to lose every member for the sake of a man we will ultimately have to chance to apprehend again!”

Your eyes float to General Shepard. He’s furious, his irises swallowed by the hollow blackness of his pupils as he jerks his head in confirmation of permission to evacuate 141. It shouldn’t have come to this.

“Do you copy, Captain Price?” You yell down the microphone, finally losing your cool with the maddening Englishman that continued to defy your authority.

“… Yes, ma’am.”

**

The ticking minutes-hand of the analogue clock that hangs above your desk sweeps away half of the day before you have confirmation of 141’s safe return to American soil. A further two hours of urgent, life-saving surgery have you chewing your nails to the quick. By the time word reaches you of Soap’s stable condition, your nailbeds are bloody and raw.

“Intel confirms a convergence of Las Almas fighters on the Mexican-Guatemalan border. We believe they intend to smuggle Hassan out of Mexico and into Venezuela, where they would almost certainly grant him sanctuary. Air surveillance suggests that armed guards patrol the border twenty-four seven, concentrated significantly around a central point where we suggest they will attempt to help Hassan over it. Ghost and Soap will lead a special operations unit to kill all Las Almas fighters on sight. Captain Price and Gaz will handle Hassan and the fighters guarding him with the help of the Mexican Special Forces. Captain Price, you have execute authority, but we want Hassan alive for interrogation.”

Enraged by the complete breakdown of the mission, your mind replays your mission briefing repeatedly, scanning the tiniest of details in vain hope of understanding how such a concise and faultless plan had almost killed a vital member of your task force. You couldn’t have made it more transparent, having covered every possible eventuality. Even the risk of faulty intel had been accounted for, enough backup issued should teams Alpha and Bravo find themselves outnumbered, yet…

“Captain Price and Gaz will handle Hassan and the fighters guarding him.”

High-ranking officials sidestep you as you turn the corner to your offices, just barely escaping your warpath as you zero in on your target. The heels of your polished shoes crack against the lino flooring of the hallway like gunfire, the sound ricocheting off the walls and alerting those in your way to your fury.

Perhaps it would explain the wide-eyed shock already present in both Shepard and Captain Price aimed at the door of the General’s office when you throw it open with rage.

“John!”

“I fucked up--“he attempts to assure you of his guilty conscience, gesturing vaguely to his commanding officer, who no doubt had already laid into him over his poor decision-making. It does little to dispel the bubbling temper that churned in your stomach and coated your tongue with a sour taste.

“You’re damn right, you fucked up,” you scoff loudly, watching Price cross his thick, bulky arms across his chest as he surrenders to your verbal onslaught. “Your decision to ignore my plan and, arguably, go AWOL nearly cost Johnny his life! I’d issued a faultless mission briefing and paired you with Gaz against Hassan! With Gaz!”

General Shepard watched you chew up Price from his seat at his desk, lacing his fingers across the surface littered with pictures that looked as though they’d been ripped from the bodycam and air surveillance footage of the failed mission. Photographic evidence of Price’s incompetency—or rather, his blind faith in himself that he could singlehandedly take on a small army of Las Almas fighters and legendary terrorist fighter Major Hassan Zyani.

A bitter spark flashes across Captain Price’s cerulean eyes, his inflammatory retaliation worming its way between his gritted teeth and rumbling in his chest.

“It’s easy for you to criticise my split-second decisions when you sit behind a desk every mission, barkin’ orders with coffee in your hand.”

It’s a miracle that you restrain yourself, momentarily considering issuing a reminder of your military prowess in the form of hand-to-hand combat. If it weren’t for the haggard strain of John’s voice from his bellowed EVAC orders in a desperate attempt to save Soap’s life, you’d have connected your balled-up fists to his face. Instead, you spit in retaliation.

“Need I remind you that before I used to call the shots, I used to shoot people?”

Price lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head at your comment and opening his mouth to argue. You don’t let him, smothering the threat of his stupid rebuttal of ‘with what, a water pistol?’.

“Your decision to pursue Hassan nearly killed Johnny,” you repeat the undeniable fact, punctuating it with a violent jab of your finger towards him, “Do you realise how close I was to calling into Scotland? How close I was to organising the coffin to bring him home in? How dare you undermine me- disrespect the resume that put me in that seat and the people I killed to get there, Captain.”

If it weren’t for you, Price’d be standing in the pews of a church in Glasgow, draped in black and drenched in red.

Clearing his throat suddenly from his seat, General Shepard just barely splits the brutal tension bludgeoning your skull in the form of a migraine that only seemed to arise in the presence of Captain John Price. It thumps against your temple when Shepard makes a show of standing from his seat and pointing to the door.

“I can leave you both here to sort out your differences. The last thing you will both do is undermine my authority by screaming like petulant children in the corridor in front of my colleagues. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you both manage to address him, eyes still pinned to each other like a missile’s locking system. Shepard grunts, and you note the twitch of a muscle in Price’s lower eyelid, his anger threatening to claw its way out of his face before he erupted with it.

The door to Shepard’s office swings open, heavy footsteps passing the threshold. In a sick, comedic chain of events, he doesn’t bother to pull it closed again. Instead, it creaks as the hinge closes achingly slowly.

You feel sick when you stare at Price. Not because you fear the words he could aim towards you in a critical hit—instead, you felt nausea at the concept of hearing the gravelly tone of his voice alone, the stabling force of your commanding officer absent.

It’s a dirty little secret that you’d never allowed yourself to speak. Even four Proseccos deep into a rare Christmas gathering of 141, you’d swallowed the word bile down that threatened to use your inebriation to rid yourself of the guilt. Price had admonished your choice of alcohol that night, commenting on how you could have chosen something better- like whiskey. The rumble of his voice in his sarcastic assessment had pooled in your stomach like the liquid amber he had suggested.

How could you possibly admit that the tone of his voice, so gritty and deep, swelled in your clit when you went to bed at night. That you replayed the ridiculous, pathetic one-liners he’d utter over the coms to you. The one time you’d issued a warning of an incoming threat, and Price had offered thanks in the only form he knew to give you: “Tha’s a girl”. You’d made a late-night Amazon order for new bedsheets and a mattress protector that same evening.

Click.

The door shuts, and the sound makes you jump as though John had slammed his fist on a big, red nuclear button.

“Are you done?”

The swallow that drags down your throat at the husked whisper he’d started with is far more audible in the now silent room. The spiteful gaze you had levelled at Price melts away, transfixing on him instead with something akin to dumb-struck, doe-eyed idiocy.

“P-Pardon?” You stumble over the two-syllable word that had confidently come to mind. Working in a building that relied so much on manners, there was absolutely no excuse for butchering a word you used upwards of fifty times a day.

Price’s eyebrow arches pointedly at you, the flickering ember in his irises that had previously resembled an inextinguishable fury instead glows with an amused curiosity at your very sudden surrender.

“Are you done making me look like a rookie in front of General Shepard?” He clarifies, stalking forward. He crosses the space between you both with long, cocky strides that make your heart pump double time when he finally settles in front of you. “Are. You. Done?”

“Hah-!” You laugh. You mean for it to mock his ridiculous notion, but instead, it’s all choked, nervous and airy because that damn voice knocks the oxygen from your lungs like he’d rendered a sucker punch to your gut. Price’s eyes pin you to your spot on the floor, root your feet to the coffee-stained carpet.

It’s utterly infuriating how he tilts his head in a smug observation of your panicked expression. You can see the exact moment he notes the tremble of your inhaled breath and the heat of your arousal rolling off your body. Fuck-

“John-“

There it is. Comprehension. The glistening sweat at your temple, the wide-eyed nervousness in your expression, and the breathy whisper of his name all surged forward and lit the bulb of realisation in his mind. You can practically see the golden glow of it in his pupils, a switch tck’ing when he murmurs an ‘oh’.

His lips split into a toothy, wily grin, “Oh, look at you, Station Chief.”

You bristle with panic with the way he makes a point to emphasise your rank, your lips parting in shock when he reaches up to grasp your chin in his hand.

“Who are you to question my decisions? You don’t even know if you want my cock in your mouth or your cunt.”

The sheer filth he utters makes your head reel as though he’d fed you some of his mind-numbing whiskey. You’re confident you’re gawping at him when he smirks at your reaction, his calloused thumbpad brushing across the bridge of your jaw. It reminds you of the way he caresses the trigger of a sniper rifle before he fires it and how you’d spent so many nights imagining that touch when you circled your clit-

“How ’bout we start with your mouth?” He urges you with a smokiness that rivals the puffs of his cigar. You loathed him for his smoking habits when the acrid scent clung to your hair but worshipped him for it when you buried your nose into your pillows when you came with a silent cry of his name.

You see his smirk widen suddenly, and it takes you far too long to realise that you’d let out a devastating whine at his lurid suggestion. John’s fingers and thumb settle on the pillowy flesh of your cheeks on either side of your mouth, pushing against them until your lips are pursed. It’s undignified, far beneath your station, but then-

“Gunna wanna open that mouth nice an’ wide for me, Dove.”

You sink to the floor of your commanding officer’s office floor before your rational mind even has a chance to talk you out of the offence- or acknowledge the choice of pet name that cheekily undermined your call sign. Your perfectly tailored office trousers crease beneath the weight of your knees… But suffering through cleaning and ironing them again was worth the rumble of a groan that fell from John’s lips as he watched you kneel for him.

“Fuck,” Price hums in appreciation, those gorgeous sky-blue irises swallowed by the midnight black of his pupils once more, “Spend all your time issuin’ orders, but you just needed someone else to take control, didn’ you, Love?”

For a moment, you hesitate. It’s improper, the way your knees ache with the hard floor beneath them. A tiny, quiet voice urges you to stand and rush out of the room before you damage your reputation any further, but the clink of John’s standard-issue belt buckle has your jaw falling slack before the idea can truly take root.

“Look at you,” he stresses again as he pulls the length of the belt from its loops with a slow thwppp sound, “So greedy for my cock. Anyone would think you’d been desperate for it all this time.”

John drags down his zipper, watching you look at him through your lashes. You don’t dismiss his hypothesis, instead choosing to stick your tongue out for him in an obscene act of fervour. The haggard groan that lurches from John’s lungs settles deep inside your cunt.

“You filthy girl,” he gasps, hurrying his hand into his trousers. He doesn’t even strip the pants from his hips, instead fishing his cock from his boxers and settling his balls against their waistband. “You have, haven’t you? How often did you touch yourself beneath the table while I spoke to you over the comms? Hmm?”

You’re so far gone now, so drunk on the idea of the agitating, ridiculous, utterly infuriating Captain finally fucking you that you might have answered that question-- if you’d heard it. Instead, his voice, which previously captured every fibre of your attention, drowned into the background of the thumping pulse in your ears. His cock sits just in front of your face, and it’s like you can’t breathe.

Ruddy and red at the tip, his cock already drools precum down the curve of its shaft. Veins throb beneath the thin, velvety skin, their ridges glistening beneath the wet tracks that his leaking seed leaves. It settles at the base, where his heavy balls rest against his boxer’s elastic waistband.

His question dies in the thick tension in the air, and you lean forward on your knees to press your drooling tongue right at the base of John’s cock where his precum pools. Your unexpected starting position causes John to spit out a curse, his fingers flying out to grip the strands of hair at the crown of your skull. “S-Shit-“

Saltiness coats your tongue where you lap up his cum, flattening your tongue against the underside of his shaft to trace his pronounced frenulum. Dragging your tastebuds upwards, you collect the tracks the droplets had left behind until the tip of your tongue rests on the underside of his fat cockhead. It’s disgusting, the relieved whine that escapes your open throat, but the vibration tips Captain John Price over the edge.

“Fuck! Eyes on me, Dove. Wanna see your eyes- that’s it.” John’s face contorts, brows creasing, and the edges of his lips turned down beneath the coarse hair of his beard as you look up at him, kissing the head of his velvety dick and slipping it into your mouth.

“Take orders so well. So obedient,” he purrs, the rumbling sound edging into a moan when you ease more of him into your mouth. He’s trying to play off the power dynamic, you note. Getting off on the fact that you’re his superior, but that he held the authority like this. A playful resentment teases the edge of your mind, urging you to remind him of his place.

You drag the edges of your teeth over his shaft. Not hard enough to hurt- just enough for a singing hiss to echo in the quiet room when you pull back from his cock.

It’s a mistake.

John grasps your hair at the back of your head, winding the strands around your fingers and suddenly rocks his hips forward. The length of his cock slides deep down your throat, and you splutter as your nose crushes into his pubic bone. “Couldn’t fuckin’ help yourself, could you?”

His gravelly reprimand swirls a ghost-like touch around your clit, and you gag around the length that intrudes against your throat walls. Price tuts softly, feeling your nails dig into his flesh beneath the camo canvas still covering his muscular thighs. It’s only when tears cling to your lashes that he draws your head back with a pull of your hair.

Gasping down a heavy breath, you splutter when John groans loudly. His cock twitches, drooling more precum as you gasp for breath, and he drags his eyes across your face. “Good fuckin’ girl. Takin’ me like that- didn’t it feel good?”

God, you’re nodding pathetically, tongue already lolling from your lips in a silent plea for more. The heaviness of his cock against your tongue and the vibrations of his lurid tone are enough for you to cum on their own, and you want more of them. John groans, a chuckle settling somewhere between the sound as he grasps the nape of your neck.

“Jus’ like that, you dirty girl,” he urges you, his free hand tapping at his balls in a wordless order. This time, you obey, tonguing over his finger before taking one of his balls into your mouth. You can hear the shaky exhale that rattles in his lungs when you suck.

“So fuckin’ good for me. I’ll fuck you against that desk one day, you hear?” You see him point in the corner of your vision, his index finger aiming at General Shepard’s desk. Realisation slams into you and rocks your clit with arousal- Shepard could walk in at any second and see his right-hand man stuffing Captain Price’s cock down her throat in the ultimate show of disrespect. John doesn’t seem worried about it. In fact, it’s as though he gets off on the idea, his eyes darting to the door as he details his plans for you.

“Think you’d look real nice on it. Far better than ‘is tacky nameplate. We’d make a mess together, get our cum all over it so he can smell jus’ how wrecked I left you-“

Moaning around the length of his cock, your clit throbbing desperately with his words, the vibrations cause John’s hips to lurch forward again. The head of his dick prods the back of your throat, but John’s tight grip doesn’t allow you to pull back. He’s buried to the hilt, twitching against your palate.

“Fuckin’ droolin’ for it, Love. It’s dripping down your chin—Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” He’s slurring his words as he watches you bob your head up and down on his length, swallowing around him and just barely holding back your gag reflex. It’s quick, messy, and loud, the wet sounds ricocheting off the office’s walls.

“D’you think he’s got cameras in here?” John muses, his voice thick with his incoming orgasm. The sound of it, the arousal coating his tongue has you whining desperately, “Why don’t you touch yourself, hmm? Give ’im a show.”

You sob around his girth like he’d just offered you a miracle. Fumbling, you don’t even bother wasting time trying to shove your hand down your trousers. Your fingers find the vague outline of your cunt through the crotch, roughly circling your clit through the layers of material.

It’s all you need. Your eyes roll back into your skull at just how close you are to cumming, your thighs trembling beneath your weight. You soaked through your panties and into the crotch of your trousers.

“Fuckin’ slutty girl,” John gasps, and you feel his cock jump at the sight of you already teetering on the edge, “’s my voice getting’ you off? Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect-“

Stop. Stop; you need him to stop. Your orgasm is ebbing at the edges of your abdomen, threatening to swallow you whole and drawing up tight, but John won’t shut the fuck up.

“C’mon, Love. Deeper. Deeper, that’s it. I’ll fuckin’ lick your pretty pussy if yo-“

His promises drown out with the surge of bliss that roars in your ears. Price times it perfectly, rocking his cock further down your throat so that you gag around his length. The lack of oxygen causes your nerve endings to sing when it cracks down your spine, bursting through your abdomen and spidering across your limbs like white-hot plasma.

Everything is loose with ecstasy, and it allows Price to issue one, two, three more brutal thrusts of his hips before he’s choking out a haggard warning that he’s going to cum.

“F-Fuck-“He chokes out, holding the nape of your neck before burying himself as deep as he possibly can without choking you, hot ropes of cum spurting down your throat. Even in your post-orgasm haze, mind numb, you swallow him down greedily. Big, heavy gulps, even licking your lips when he removes his dick from your throat to milk out the last drops of his cum onto them.

“Tha’s my girl, good, don’t let a drop go to waste.”

Price’s hand pushes back the mess of your hair from your face, careful to remove the strands that had clung to your tear-soaked eyelashes. You hold your breath, heart stilling its rapid beat as he brushes his thumb across your cheekbone to swipe up the tear tracks that had leaked from your eyes during his assault on your throat. It’s a single moment of tenderness, barely there, before he withdraws his touch to stuff himself back into his pants.

“Can you stand?” Price asks, his voice even hoarser than when you’d first walked into the room, like the moans you’d elicited from him were like sandpaper in his already raw throat. He holds out a palm- but you’re not cock-dumb enough to believe it’s a makeshift olive branch.

“Yes,” you whisper, matching his brutalised tone with your own as you bat away the helping hand he offers you. Price can’t help but scoff at your dismissal. Turns out even a dick down your throat wasn’t enough to change your uptight attitude. He watches you stand on shaky feet, trying to smooth out your creased knees before Shepard could wonder how exactly you’d made such a mess of yourself.

Besides your heaving breaths, still desperately pulling oxygen in your lungs to soothe the burn, the room is silent. Price finishes righting himself, smoothing his fingers through his cropped hair.

“Don’t forget what I said,” he murmurs, eyes sliding over to the desk. His promise to fuck you on it only barely re-enters your mind following a pointed look. Satiated somewhat by the blistering orgasm that had ripped through you, your rage struggles to roar to life like it had when you’d entered this room. Now it smelt like sex, and your anger only simmers in the base of your stomach.

“That is not happening again,” you promise him firmly.

“Mhmm,” he hums, following Shepard’s footsteps towards the door, “We’ll see about that, Dove.” 

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[sansaorgana]

— SECOND CHANCE

PAIRING — Erik Lehnsherr x fem!Mutant!Reader

SUMMARY — Long time ago, you made your choice not to follow Erik. It was a decision that you have been regretting ever since. Ten years later you finally see him again.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Finally, as I promised, another fic with Erik!!! And not the last one either! 😁 I have rewatched all X–Men movies recently and I have some ideas... 😊 Reader’s mutation is NOT specified.

WORD COUNT — 3,040

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SECOND CHANCE

Tight, black and yellow suit was hot to touch from the heat of the sun. You still remembered that feeling; the hot material underneath your fingers when you were trying to adjust the torn piece on your shoulder to cover your wounded skin from the upcoming blows and punches. You also remembered the fear, the pounding heart in your chest and the metallic taste of blood on your tongue from accidentally biting it after landing flat-faced on the ground when the plane crashed. 

And you remembered Erik’s steel blue eyes. He was surprised to see you even hesitate after his invitation to stand by his side. He felt like there was no need for words. Your loyalty was something he wouldn’t dare to overthink. But you didn’t move, you kept standing, petrified. And he kept staring at you and your lungs were starting to fail you. It was so heavy to breathe.

Even Raven left Charles’ side – his somewhat sister – and you kept standing in the same spot with a dry mouth because you had forgotten to swallow.

“(Y/N),” Erik’s voice was stern but you knew him well enough to know that it was a desperate plea more than a request. You had spent so much time together, he took you for granted.

“I’m sorry, Erik, I can’t…” you heard the words leaving your mouth but it felt like someone else had said them. It felt like watching a movie, it was certainly not real.

“(Y/N),” he repeated your name and his jaw clenched but you knew it was not driven by his anger. His world was tumbling down, everything he had known was turning into dust. You were everything he had known and the only person he had. And now you were betraying him… Abandoning him. Just like his mother did because she was just a weak human and couldn’t protect herself from the bullet. Meanwhile, you were a weak mutant – weak, because instead of admiring him, you feared him at that moment. He wasn’t a telepath but he could sense your apprehension.

“I love you…” you heard yourself saying and felt a tear rolling down your cheek. You had never told him that. That state of your feelings was obvious but you had never made that confession. “...but I can’t join you.”

Something told you already that you would regret your decision. You watched them all disappear but you let yourself burst out in tears only after being left alone with Moira, Charles and Hank. You didn’t want Erik to know how much this decision had cost you because then you’d expose yourself to his manipulations and sweet promises and you knew you’d give in.

But you didn’t want to give in and for the first time in your life, you made an important decision all by yourself. It was a tough decision, it was painful and difficult but it was morally good. You should have been proud of yourself but instead you were cursing yourself in your mind.

“Th-thank you,” Charles coughed out and you cracked a smile through your own tears.

You didn’t choose him. It wasn’t about him at all and you could feel deep in your bones that you would grow to hate him for your own decision just because it meant being separated from Erik.

You woke up abruptly and sat up in your bed while breathing heavily. You couldn’t see anything; it was the middle of the night. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand. Three am. You turned a small lamp on and wiped the sweat off of your forehead before sighing deeply and falling back down on your pillow.

It was raining outside, the sound was making you feel comfortable and somehow safe. Cold rain was a reminder that the hot, sunny day on the beach was far away. The dream was only a memory of something that had happened a long time ago.

“Stop haunting me, you bastard,” you murmured and turned your head around to look at the photograph on your night stand, right between the clock and a small lamp.

It was the only picture of you and Erik ever taken. You were wearing a new red polka dot dress that he had stolen for you in a store in Paris and the picture was taken by the Eiffel Tower. You had been living like Bonnie and Clyde back in the day, or like two superagents; always on a hunt. Chasing traces and clues, never spending more than a few nights in the same place. Back in the day, you had thought that once you’d capture your main target, you’d settle down with Erik.

“But you’re not dead,” you whispered and reached your hand out to caress the picture’s frame. “You’re not a ghost, so you can’t haunt me.”

It was your own heart haunting you with the memory of the day you two had parted. It was caused by regret.

You sighed and rolled over in the huge bed, feeling so small in the middle of it. Ten years earlier, the two of you had been sleeping in it together for a few weeks. It had been the longest time you had ever spent in one place. You had hoped it would become your home.

Your biggest regret was not even the fact that you and Erik were parted. Your biggest regret was that he was in jail now, deep under the ground. And you thought that it wouldn’t had happened… if only you were with him.

On the other hand, every single person that had joined him was dead – except for Raven. That was the argument Charles would often bring up whenever you whined about your current life.

And, God, you hated your life and you hated Charles Xavier. Well, not really. At this point you were like a dysfunctional family – but still a family – so you couldn’t say that you hated him. But he was an asshole, addicted to alcohol and that medicine that Hank had prepared for him. The mansion was dark and dirty, full of spiderwebs and dust. You only took care of your bedroom and the en suite bathroom. It wasn’t your job to be a maid of Charles and Hank.

At first your life hadn’t been so bad. You had been a teacher, you had your students and your schedule had been distracting you from thinking of Erik all the time. But now your life was full of long and boring days without any purpose and meaning. You were wasting your life away and you couldn’t even be with a man whom you loved. You spent most of your time reading books, taking walks around the neglected garden and taking long naps.

You turned the lamp off and formed a big roll out of your duvet to put your arms around it like it was a person. It would help you to fall asleep on nights like this.

“Are you thinking of me, too?” you asked quietly before drifting away to the land of dreams once again.

The arrival of that man known as Logan was the first exciting thing that had happened to you in years. And when he mentioned something about helping Erik to escape the Pentagon, you felt the mixture of anxiety and excitement.

The possibility of seeing Erik again was worth risking everything. Even if he wouldn’t want to look at you twice after all these years, after the abandonment and betrayal. You just wanted to see him again, look into his eyes, feel him being real and alive. You wanted the constant yearning and guilt to go away. You felt like you owed him the escape.

Of course Charles didn’t want to do it but it was about Raven more than about Erik, so he gave in. But he knew very well that you couldn’t wait to see your lover again so he kept giving you weird looks. And he wasn’t the only one.

“What is it?” you asked after spotting Logan in your mirror.

You were in your bedroom, preparing yourself to go with them all to find some mutant boy who was extremely fast.

“I’m sorry,” he emerged from the darkness and cleared his throat after properly entering your room instead of lurking inside through the ajar door.

“Don’t be sorry,” you shrugged your arms and fixed your hair. “I’m just wondering why are you scared of me. Or intimidated by me, I don’t know how to interpret your odd looks and why you’re avoiding me,” you explained and turned around to face him.

“Rule number one of a time traveller,” he cracked a smile, “is that you can’t reveal anything about the future.”

“Oh, so it has something to do with my future,” you cocked an eyebrow. “Now you have to tell me,” you insisted. “Are we, like, enemies?”

“It’s the first time I’m meeting you in real life,” he admitted and you furrowed your brows. “You’re more of a legend, I’d say. A myth perhaps.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that revelation. So, in the future you were apparently long gone. You only hoped that you wouldn’t die before making things right between you and Erik again.

“How will I die?”

“Perhaps not at all if we prevent Raven killing Trask,” he explained and you sighed with relief.

One thing you had in common with Charles was your hope – sometimes too naive and too innocent for your own good. But after finding out that this part of your future remains unwritten, for you it was like it wouldn’t happen at all. You had hope that you would manage to stop Raven. You were almost certain of it.

But still, there was some universe, some version of the timeline, where you had died.

“But when I died…” you started.

“I really don’t want to give you any details,” he shook his head.

“Just one thing, please,” you pleaded. “Was I with him again before that?”

Logan laughed a little and you furrowed your brow.

“So… That’s why Magneto is so dangerous,” he explained. “If I lost a woman who loved me so much, I would swear to destroy everything, too.”

You felt your cheeks heating up a little at that comment. It still wasn’t an answer to your question but it was enough – Erik loved you. Still.

“Let’s go,” you said and left the room to join Hank and Charles downstairs.

Charles decided it would be a bad idea for you to go to the Pentagon with the rest of them. You were supposed to wait for them on a plane – just in case they got into some sort of trouble, you’d be out of it so you could rescue them. That was Charles’ explanation. But in fact, he wasn’t sure of what you’d do after seeing Erik for the first time in ten years.

You were sitting in one of the seats, fixing your hair all the time, nervous of the way you looked. After all, ten years had passed and you weren’t as young as you had been on that beach when you had seen him for the last time. On your lap there was a bag with new clothes for Erik to wear so he wouldn’t have to walk around in a prisoner’s uniform. Your palms were sweaty and shaky as your heart pounded so loud that you couldn’t hear anything else.

There was a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach as you chewed on your lower lip. And then you heard a whoosh sound and all of the guys showed up in front of you. At first, you didn’t react, too shocked to do anything.

When you realized that it was, in fact, Erik standing in front of you – real and alive – you stood up abruptly as the bag fell down off of your lap to the ground. He made wide eyes at you, Charles probably hadn’t told him that you’d be waiting.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Charles and sat down in one of the seats. Logan followed him while Hank sat behind the steer. Erik and you were still standing and staring at each other.

He hadn't changed much. His hair was shorter and there were a few more wrinkles on his face, but that would be it. You hoped he was thinking the same about you.

“I… I’ve got clothes for you… To ch-change,” you crouched down to pick up the bag before handing it to him.

It felt so surreal to see him again that you couldn’t even say “hello”.

“Thank you,” was all he said and your fingers brushed when he was taking the bag from you. Your whole body felt like it had been hit with an electric bolt.

Erik walked past you to go to the bathroom and you turned around to watch his back disappear behind the door.

“Wait,” you breathed out and followed him inside. Both Charles and Logan turned their heads to watch the scene. It had to be entertaining for them.

But they couldn’t see anything anyway because you closed the door after walking inside the bathroom after Erik. You couldn’t control your own body, it was all impulses and instincts leading your actions.

“What are you–” Erik started but you clashed your lips with his before he could finish the question.

He was surprised and taken aback at first but eventually he placed his big hands on both of your cheeks and pulled you even closer. You tangled your hands in his hair and opened your mouth wider to let him devour you with a kiss.

Long time ago you had been laying in bed together, in one of the cities that you had only been passing by. You remembered watching some war movie on TV in a hotel room and you remembered the long on-screen kiss. Your head had been on Erik’s chest and you had looked up to watch his face as you had been wondering what it was like to kiss someone after such a long time. Now you knew.

He broke the kiss when he felt your wet tears on his thumbs. You both caught your breaths and he wiped your cheeks gently. His own eyes were glistening, too.

“I thought you were with him now,” he said.

You took a step back – as much as the small bathroom allowed you to.

“You asshole,” you clenched your jaw and turned around to open the door and leave but he locked it without even lifting a finger. And when you tried to unlock it aggressively, he kept locking it back again until you gave up with a sigh and faced him again. “First thing you do after seeing me again is accusing me of cheating?” you asked, disappointed.

“Cheating? That would mean we were together all this time,” he raised an eyebrow. “As far as I remember, you chose him.”

“I know you were fucking Raven,” you pursed your lips to stop yourself from crying more, “and that other woman, too, probably. Emma, that was her name, right? Angel, too, I assume. I don’t care. I didn’t choose to go with you, you were free to do whatever you wanted. But it doesn’t mean that I didn’t choose to go with you because of him. I chose that for myself. And I have hated myself for it every day since then. I wanted to be a good person and do the right thing but turns out I am not. I am not a good person. Because all I want is to be with you again,” you confessed and blinked a few times to dry your fresh tears.

“You weren’t looking for me. I was waiting for you to change your mind and join me,” Erik clenched his jaw like he was waiting for some complicated explanation. But the answer was easy.

“I was afraid of you. I was afraid of the man I had seen on that beach, Erik. All these years we spent together, you had never told me what had been truly hiding in your head. I always thought it was about hunting Schmidt. I never knew you shared his ideas,” you swallowed thickly and sniffled.

“I didn’t want you to ever be afraid of me,” Erik’s fingers raised your chin up as he looked deep into your eyes. “You know that protecting you is my priority, always. Even if it means destroying the world,” he confessed as your eyes widened. It reminded you of what Logan had said earlier.

“I know,” you cracked a smile and he caressed your cheek. You leaned in to kiss the palm of his hand and held onto his wrist for a moment while looking into his eyes. “Will you do everything right this time? For me? I don’t want you to destroy the world. I just want you to fix everything so we can get the second chance,” you explained. “In our old room in Charles’ house there is still a drawer full of your clothes and I still wash them sometimes, pretending that you are using them, pretending that you’re going to come back soon. I make up the bed on your side and I keep a razor in the bathroom in case you wanted to shave,” you kept talking and talking and you knew that you were blabbering at this point but after all these years, you had to let it all out, along with the tears rolling down your cheeks uncontrollably now.

Erik furrowed his brow as his eyes full of pain were watching your face. Eventually, he shushed you and pressed your head to his chest to give you a comforting hug. The one you had been craving for so long.

“I will fix everything,” he made a promise and rubbed your back before giving kisses to your temple and the top of your head. “But I don’t think I want to go back to that house. I don’t think I can share Charles’ ideas and optimism.”

“It’s alright,” you shook your head. Now it was time for you to make a promise, too. “This time I will follow you wherever you go.”

MASTERLIST

[synnamonroll666]

Can you Josh x black female reader whose feeling a little insecure so they have mirror sex while he tells her especially and in GREAT detail what he likes about her??

Tell Me You're Beautiful

Pairing: Josh Washington x Black Fem!Reader Description: After a full day of no replies to his texts, Josh went to his girlfriend's house to find her hiding in her room. After learning that insecurities are keeping her in bed and none of the usual compliments working to cheer her up, he decided to show her how he sees her in a different way... Warnings: Angst, Reader Is Very Insecure, Self-Hatred, Smut, Soft Dom!Josh, Mirror Sex, Praise Kink, Unprotected Sex But No Creampie, Third Person POV, Specific Descriptions Of The Reader. (If I Missed Any Tags, Let Me Know.) Word Count: 2k A/N: I'm so sorry this too so long but if any of you follow me, you know I'm indecisive as fuck with editing. 😂 Also, someone requested another black fem!reader on my other blog, about Josh and the reader playing 7 minutes in heaven. They asked if I could make it spicy so I'm going to do that one on this blog instead since this is my smut one. So if that anon is reading this, just know that I did get your request and I am working on it. And to the anon who requested this fic, I hope you enjoy it. I may have went a little more dramatic with it than intended but I tried my best. 😅🖤 Main MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

She laid curled up in bed, a large hoodie covering her form and a look of sadness pulling down her features. Her phone had been blowing up all day. Friends asked her to go on outings, and her boyfriend, who was concerned by her absence.

It was 3 p.m. when she heard a knock at her bedroom door. Figuring it was only her mother, she gave acceptance to them entering, only to be left dumbfounded when her boyfriend, Josh, came through with a very worried expression on his face.

"Josh, please! I need to be alone right now." She expressed this while pulling the blanket up her chest, subconsciously wanting to hide away from his watchful eyes.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" He asked while stepping into the room, despite her protest.

He immediately came to her side, concern evident in his features. He was always one to care—always so quick to throw everything out the window and run to her beck and call. He was always her hero, even if he was the one who needed saving. But that wasn't important now. What really mattered was fixing whatever had her so broken down.

"Please, (Y/N)... Tell me what's wrong." He practically begged, just hoping it was nothing too big that he couldn't fix. Even then, he would go to great lengths to at least make it better.

"It's just..." She choked out, her voice barely above a whisper, as her brown eyes gazed up at him through her tears. He nodded his head while taking her small hands in his own, urging her to continue. And with a deep breath, she finally got what's been killing her inside off her chest. "I can't stand myself..."

Josh could only respond with a quiet "Huh?" not fully understanding what she had meant. She shook her head, not wishing to elaborate but finally finding the words after releasing a subtle sigh.

"I can't even look at myself. I'm not like those girls in the magazines. I'm not special." She admitted it shamefully, wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her hoodie as she did so.

Josh understood these feelings. Despite his confident demeanor, he was just as insecure as most people. Hell, maybe even more. He hated that she felt this gut-wrenching feeling. However, he knew he could remedy this.

"You're wrong." He stated it firmly, his voice now so strong and confident, it caused her to do a double take back in his direction. "You're the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Most guys would give their left nut to be with you."

She scoffed at his comment and rolled her eyes. "You're just saying that..."

Though she appreciated his efforts, it would take more to convince her just how beautiful she really was. Josh knew this and made a vow within his mind that he would do everything in his power to prove it to her—to make her see herself through his eyes.

"Stand up." He then demanded. The command took her by surprise, though she obeyed his order, standing to her full height. It didn't do much, though, as he still towered over her by quite a lot. His height was always something she admired about him. It made her feel safe.

He took her by the arm and pulled her in front of her full-body mirror. Her gaze dropped, reluctant to look at the image reflected before her. She didn't want to see it—the reflection of the girl she, unfortunately, was. Josh shook his head at this.

"Look." he demanded firmly.

A mere minute passed of her not daring to do what she was told before he grabbed her chin and forced her to look up. Though it was a startling gesture, his touch was soft and gentle, as if she were fine glass in his large hands. Her eyes began to tear up as she looked at herself, seeing nothing but flaws before her.

"Tell me what you see." His voice came out a little softer than before, but it was still nothing less than the demand he gave right before.

"Just a girl..." She responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head again, slightly frustrated that she didn't understand what he was trying to show her. But he knew this would take more work. He knew what he had to do.

"Take your clothes off."

Her lips fell agape as she looked at his reflection, astonished that he would ask such a thing. Though she really didn't want to see herself naked, she was intrigued. Though the request was rather suggestive, the look in his soft, green orbs told a different story—one that told her that his intentions were not crude.

She pulled her hood back, the coils in her soft hair falling gracefully over her shoulder as she did so. His eyes lit up, and he reached out to tuck a few strands behind her ear to admire her face.

Then she pulled it over her head, revealing her white tank top beneath. His fingers grazed her soft shoulders as she toyed with the hem of her shirt, not knowing if she wanted to do such a thing at this moment.

"Show me," he coaxed her in a soft tone before pressing a soft kiss on her tear-soaked cheek.

With a shaky breath, she pulled her tank top over her head. Her soft breasts bounced slightly as they were freed from the confinement of their fabricated prison, and Josh couldn't help but smirk just a little as he watched. He was still a man, after all.

Then, she found the courage to remove her shorts and panties, throwing them on the floor in a messy pile with her hoodie and tank top. Without skipping a beat, Josh reached up and turned the knob on her lamp, putting her under what felt like a literal spotlight. Her stomach twisted into knots as she folded her arms across her chest, not wanting Josh to see her flaws that were so obvious under the bright light.

But then she felt his hands on her shoulders once more, squeezing ever so slightly. She looked up to see him watching her through the mirror, his eyes glimmering with love. He removed one hand from her shoulder, and soon, the sound of a belt buckle being opened was heard.

She didn't know how she ended up in this situation anymore, but something about it felt pleasant. She was with the man she loved. And though she was in this uncomfortable position, she knew she was in good hands.

Josh entered her from behind, letting out a trembling breath as he pushed every inch into her tight hole. She bit her plump lip, trying hard not to moan like a pornstar already. Though she knew it was something Josh loved.

Once he was inside her fully, he retracted his hips before pushing in again with more force. She almost fell forward—face nearly clashing with the glass before her—but Josh was quick to scoop an arm around her frame, pulling her close to his chest.

He found himself a steady rhythm and watched her reaction through the reflection, enjoying how her lips turned all pouty as she moaned or how her eyes went watery and lidded from the pleasure. That's when he decided to do his work. Of course, fucking her insecurities away wasn't going to work. He needed to do more.

He let his lips graze the shell of her ear and whispered, "Wanna know what I see?"

Her eyes opened at that, not knowing how to respond. She was still half-intoxicated by the arousal she felt to even comprehend exactly what he meant by that. Smirking at her distracted nature, Josh decided to continue anyway.

"I see a beautiful, strong goddess of a woman." He groaned, his breath hitching in his throat, when her soaked pussy squeezed him. It was clear she was enjoying the praise, so he continued on, wanting to show his girl just how amazing she was. "You're so soft—so tight. Everything about you is perfect."

Her cheeks warmed up from this treatment, flustering her mind and clouding it with something new besides pleasure. She wanted to collapse in his embrace—to just let go of all her worry and let him be the one to guide her to the light. Josh's words brought her back to reality for a short moment, only to send her crashing into bliss once more.

"The way your hair smells and feels," he said, burying his face into her soft coils, inhaling deeply to take in her scent.

"Your skin, the perfect shade of chocolate, and how it's just as sweet," he kissed her neck, his tongue swirling around the pulse, earning a heavenly moan from her trembling lips.

His hips faltered for a moment, as her sounds rang through his ears like the song of a goddess, the one he knew she was.

"How your gorgeous brown eyes reflect your warm personality." He grabbed her chin between his thumb and index finger once more to turn her head so he could gaze down into her orbs with a tender look to show his sincerity.

Her dark eyes brightened under the small light as she looked up at him, showing off all the beautiful shades of brown within her iris. They not only show the unique patterns but also her shimmering soul—like an angel in heaven's light.

"I love how they tell me your every want and desire." With that being said, he reached a hand down, two fingers brushing against her clit. The brief and subtle contact was enough to make her eyes roll into the back of her head, and his smile broadened, knowing damn well that he was successful. He pushed her face back to the mirror, holding it there to force her eyes on herself. "Now tell me how beautiful you are."

"I-I'm beautiful..." She murmured through ragged breaths, not realizing her words. It worked like some sort of hypnosis in a way, subconsciously putting the message into her mind through pleasure.

"Louder," he demanded, his fingers finding purchase on her swollen little bud to rub tight circles around it.

"I'm b-beautiful!" She groaned as her body began shaking under his intoxicating touch.

Josh gritted his teeth as his cock throbbed within her, begging for release. He was so close, but he knew she was as well. He wanted his angel to make it to the edge first, with the message of how amazing she was engraved in her mind.

"Louder!" He shouted through his clenched canines, pushing his cock harder and deeper within her with each sloppy thrust.

"I'm beautiful!" She cried out as tears streamed down her face.

And like a wildfire, that intense sensation burning within her core spread throughout her body. He held her close as she rode through her high on his dick, keeping her in his warm embrace as he worked her through it.

When she squeezed his member, he couldn't hold on any longer. He pulled out and released his load onto her ass, nearly cumming a second time from how hot the sight was before him. It was like marking her, in a way—claiming her as his.

As he admired her body while coming down from his high, her eyes remained on herself through that reflection on the now-steamy glass. She wiped her hand over the cool surface to clear her vision of herself, and she continued to stare as her chest rose and fell with each soft breath she took.

"I'm beautiful..." She whispered, now believing that statement as it fell from her lips.

Josh wrapped his arms around her frame after brushing a few stray coils from her face. He pressed a soft kiss on her temple and then rested his head atop hers while gazing into her warm eyes through the mirror.

"You're not just beautiful," He murmured, admiring the goddess in his grasp and all her stunning features. "You're perfect, babe."

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello hope you're well 👍 I've read all you're Bi-han fics and I'm obsessed with how well you write him 💗 Can I request a continuation of the one where he's S/O got severely injured? Maybe after they healed they were left with lots of scars and every time Bi-han see them (whether in bed or when S/O clothes don't hide them ) he feels immense amounts of regret. Perhaps to close off this theme they could both talk about the situation with S/O reassuring Bi-han that it happened once and never again . Sorry if this is too long or if it's too angsty feel free to dismiss it if you're uncomfortable with the prompt 👍

I’m doing well and thank you for reading my stuff for I was certain that like half of it were shoddy due to character inaccuracies 😂 but at least I’m doing something right!

Part 1

‘I can feel you staring Bi-Han.’ You stated and you couldn’t find it within yourself to hold it against him. After finally waking up from your comatose, the first thing you saw as the bandages were taken off was scars of every kind imaginable; Some were crisscrossed with others whilst others took up an entire limb. There was no denying that you could have died in the medbay that very same day you were brought in but no, you were extremely lucky to even have been able to wake up from all that.

You were blessed with another chance to live but none of that mattered to you, what did however was seeing Bi-Han at your bedside looking worse for wear. His silken raven black hair was disheveled and unkept compared to it’s usual style, his dark eyes were dull and lifeless, the dark bags underneath them only proved to further push this narrative of a man who hadn’t had a descent nights sleep in a long while. He looked so unlike the Bi-Han you knew that when you reached out to stroke back a couple of loose strands from his forehead, he was quick to firmly grab ahold of your wrist before looking at you, you could clearly see the hurt and the brokenness within them.

‘I could’ve been there,’ Bi-Han said his eyes would linger on the long, jagged scar that ran diagonally across your back, ‘no, had I known what I know now, I would’ve stopped you from going on that mission.’ The guilt was still eating him up from the inside it seemed and it absolutely broke your heart that he felt fully responsible, and yet in Bi-Han’s mind, he was and should be held responsible for your predicament. It didn’t make things better that whenever he saw the scars that were now a permanent part of your body, he was reminded that he failed you on all accounts and he swore to himself that he’d never let it happen again.

Even if that meant having to withhold you from participating in future missions for the foreseeable future, Bi-Han will do it. He just couldn’t go through all that. He had already emotionally destroyed himself from almost losing you, loosing valuable sleep in exchange for watching over you, and so on and so forth that he doesn’t think that he could do it again. For every time he closes his eyes, all he saw was you lying in the medbay almost lifeless, it continued to haunt him well after you were dismissed by the medics, leaving him to determine whether or not you were fit to head back out there.

You were quick to slip on your night shirt before joining Bi-Han in bed and reaching across to hold his hands without your own, brushing your thumb across his knuckles reassuringly. ‘Don’t do this to yourself Bi-Han.’ You started. ‘You didn’t know and you shouldn’t hold it over yourself either, it’s not healthy and you’ll end up running yourself into the ground with guilt that isn’t yours to begin with.’ You gripped Bi-Han’s hand tighter as you cradled it to your chest, pressing gentle kisses into his skin, in hopes of assuring him that you were with him and not some figment of his imagination. ‘I don’t to have the heart to watch you tear yourself apart. I was hurt, yes, but here I am. You can feel my hand holding yours, you can feel my body warmth and you can see that I am breathing.’

You stopped your speech halfway to look Bi-Han deep in the eye and asked; ‘Isn’t that all the proof you need to know that I am alive? that I am flesh, blood and bone and nothing else?’ But when he said nothing and avert his dark and tired gaze from your own, you huffed and hauled yourself into his lap, grabbing ahold of his face between you hands, whilst his hands immediately went straight to your waist as though it were routine for them. ‘Look at me.’ You say softly but revived nothing, not even a glance and it hurt. ‘Bi-Han I want you to look at me!’ You then exclaimed, causing him to look at you and not through you like he has been during these past couple of days as though you were a ghost.

‘This won’t happen ever again.’ You told him firmly, pressing your head against his, feeling him sigh as he relaxed within your touch; feeling confident in the fact that you weren’t going to up and disappear on him like his mind had made him believe. ‘How can you be so certain that this won’t be echoed later on.’ Bi-Han finally said. You smiled softly. ‘I can’t but you’ll just have to put your trust in me that it won’t.’ You knew that wasn’t the answer Bi-Han was looking for, but with the way he was holding you against him as though trying to meld you against him. ‘I’ll hold you to your word, but until then you’re under my supervision until further notice.’ He said against your lips that widened into a smile as you cuddled yourself further into his chest as sleep began to invade.

‘You say that like that’s a bad thing.’ You cheeked and you were certain that you heard him let out a chuckle. He was healing, healing slowly yes, but that was enough of a start for you.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Hank McCoy’s sibling

Hank McCoy x sibling!reader

warnings:

a/n: i started writing this fic months ago and when i was halfway done mobile glitched and deleted the whole draft so i gave up out of rage anyways. i dont think i liked how it turned out but idk!

prompt: anonymous: “Hellooo !! First of all i have to say that i love your fics !! Second of all , i wanted to request a headcanon , with being hank mccoy’s little sister?? I was thinking that she is a mutant and she has powers like Wanda. It would be really cool to see is with the other x men. Also her age to be around 14 when the first movie sets place ?( Sorry if i didn’t explain it well)”

being a mutant who had just discovered their powers was hard

what was even harder was that your brother hank had to take you in when it happened

hank understood what it felt like to be different, and luckily he had a good enough job to support you

“just sit here and do your homework. quietly” -hank, seating you in his office at work

“what makes you think i wont be quiet?” -you

“you blew up the toaster this morning” -hank

“it burnt my toast” -you

“listen, okay? no one can no we are what we are. just be calm. if you need help on your homework, let me know” -hank

you spent a lot of time at hank’s work, which led to you two immediately being exposed by charles xavier when he waltzed into your lives

“oh, dear, you’ve just experienced your mutation recently. you’re a powerful one, but you can’t control it well. we can help with that” -charles

he quickly realized it was a mistake to comment on yours and your brother’s…issues

“no! no, y/n, it’s too dangerous. you’re in middle school, you have homework. im not letting him turn you into a soldier” -hank

if you couldn’t tell by now, hank was a bit anxious about raising you

after all, your powers weren’t much alike, he didn’t know how to navigate this

“i need to learn how to control them, or else im gonna hurt someone” -you

you didn’t understand what it felt like to look different, but he didn’t understand what it felt like to fear yourself

“who’s the kid?” -alex

“that’s my sibling, y/n” -hank

“what’s your power?” -alex

“it’s kind of…uncontrollable. i can’t show you” -you

“i know how that feels” -alex

“you do?!” -you

when alex finally revealed his power, it made you excited to show your energy blasts

you managed to keep them mostly contained and alex gave you a huge high five

“stay away from him, y/n. he’s not a good influence” -hank

“but we have similar powers. im not alone!” -you

“doesn’t mean you need to be friends” -hank

the rest of the gang was super sweet to you, but you had to remind them you were young, not little

“you’re probably the strongest out of all of us, kiddo” -raven

sean liked to pretend like you were super scary and cower whenever you looked at him

“no please dont hurt me!!!” -sean, convincingly but sarcastically

you became everyone’s little sibling

“admit it, we’ve never been closer” -you

“yeah, you’re right” -hank

“and we aren’t so lonely” -you

“that’s also true” -hank

“so why are you acting so protective and jealous” -you

“im just used to it being us two” -hank

“yeah but now we aren’t struggling, we have all this space to move around and time to focus on important things. i can finally use my powers without getting scared!” -you

“are you still keeping up with your schoolwork?” -hank

“stop worrying so much, hank” -you

regardless of his protests, you still geared up to fight and it infuriated him

what infuriated you was that he was blue

“what. the hell. did you do?” -you

“im the adult here, why are you in that suit. y/n’s not going on this mission. and watch your language!” -hank

you nearly gave him a heart attack, but by the end of the fight he was proud of you. truly.

for a short time, the remainer of the team stayed together

alex and you trained together often

“hey! only i can bully hank” -you

“oh, you’re making rules now?” -alex

“i am the boss around here” -you

charles admired how far you’d come

and hank was honestly grateful he wasn’t raising you alone

you continued your schooling and just as you graduated, charles offered you a job teaching at the school for gifted youngsters

but it shortly closed after that, leaving you without much of a purpose

“hank, i think i need to go off on my own” -you

“it’s too dangerous, y/n. you’re much better off here” -hank

“you mean with you and charles? two of the most self-hating mutants i know? charles is injecting himself with medication to stop his powers. medication YOU made. how long until you make one for me so im not so ‘dangerous’ anymore” -you

“what could you possibly do out there?” -hank

“i already got a job as a teacher, hank. i’m off to go live my life. call me if you need me” -you

he did call you later, rambling about a mutant from the future preventing a war or something. just that you needed to come back

“y/n, good to see you” -logan

“do i know you?” -you

“apparently he knows all of us” -charles

“thats not weird” -you, sarcastically

it’d been a while since you’d seen any action, so it was a little refreshing doing something like breaking into the pentagon

“after this, maybe we could go out sometime” -peter

“get away from them!” -hank

“i got this hank—kid, i’m too old for you” -you

“you’re barely five years older than me” -peter

“you’re seventeen. go away.” -you

you and hank laughed about it later

really, it was weird seeing erik and raven again. even charles with his shit together. it was like old times

you just wished it could stick

you left before any more damage could be done to your personal life and gave hank a big hug

“be safe. don’t do anything stupid” -you

“hey, thats what i was gonna say” -hank

you went back to your life and soon got a call from charles

a job offer, the school was opening again

“come home, y/n. hank misses you” -charles

it took some convincing, but you came back

and maybe this time things would be different

you got your classes and were ready to start teaching a new generation of mutants the way you wished you were taught

(sorry i cut this short i ran out of ideas 😭)

taglist: @locke-writes // @randomawesomeperson102 // @captainshazamerica // @dindjarinsspouse // @summersimmerus // @simp-legend // @nekoannie-chan // @groovy-lady // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[itsabouttimex2]

Plot twist: the moment d!reader is set free from both of the circles at the end of the journey, they dissapear into the night, never to be seen again...or not.

I'm sorry i just, as much as i love yanderes, i want to see them suffer. At least a bit.

Ps. You're an amazing writer and i really enjoy your fics. Also, you really helped in getting my friend into yandere, so thank you for that🙂

Taken Aboard:

Running Away

(I’m super glad that you enjoy my fics! And I’m glad your friends enjoys them, too! Yandere is a really fun trope to play with!)

So, in the case that you do pull a runner at the end of this long and arduous journey, Y/N… your biggest enemy is now yourself.

Because, as hard as you might have tried to fight it, you have been civilized. You have grown accustomed to society. You have started to care. This journey has changed and bettered you, as it has all your companions.

You are no longer a mere demon tending to monsters great and mighty, no more a child planting seeds and spreading spores.

You can’t ever go back to being the wild little creature you once were.

If you’ve ever read Gilgamesh, I’d say Enkidu is a good comparison for your development. After he’s been ‘civilized’ by Shamhat, Enkidu can no longer return to the home he knows and loves, the animals who once accepted him now fleeing on sight.

Now, if you leave before the journey’s end…

You run, devastated and distraught that so much of yourself is gone and lost, never to be reclaimed. The forest may not be the home you know, but some part of it is still familiar.

You purge the hunters and loggers who have taken up residence within the Emerald Grove, violently spilling their nourishing blood across the hungry soil, pitch their flesh into the mouths of ravenous beasts.

It doesn’t make you feel better- you know that at least some of these men and women were trying to feed themselves, their children.

But at least the forest is newly quiet, contented by a fresh meal, leaving you in peace to mourn.

As for hoping to ‘never being seen again’…

Sun Wukong’s Golden Vision has a little something to say about that.

Within hours he’s stalking back to the Emerald Grove in a huff, hauling his way up the tallest tree he can find and unhappily making his way over to you.

The Great Sage snatches you off the bark and tosses you over his shoulder, clambering down the tree as you kick and scream. You demand to be released and removed from the group, biting and pounding your fists agains his invulnerable back.

“Being naughty today, bud? Here I was, thinking you had finally gotten past this ‘running back home’ phase.”

“I am not a baby,” you scream, digging your teeth into the base of his spine with all your demonic might. “PUT ME DOWN!”

You manage to draw just a few drops of blood, not that it phases the simian. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You’re making things harder for all of us, you know that? And you keep setting us back with all the running away nonsense. But I had Master call a certain someone up to maybe settle this for us all, bud.”

Against your angry protests and endless assault does the Great Sage drag you back to camp, switching to hold you in his arms instead of over his back.

Immediately do your screams of anger turn to pained wails, the sound of a holy sutra hitting your ears. The blessed bands around your wrists tighten, scraping the skin they compress to rawness.

And before you stands not only the holy monk who tricked you into wearing these golden hoops, but the goddess who gave them to him.

“Sun Wukong, please place the child down,” she lightly instructs, her tone even and polite. “Might I speak to them for a moment?”

The Handsome Monkey King obeys, nudging your towards the goddess after he releases his grip on you.

Guanyin comes to you slowly, kneeling to take your face into her soft and gentle hands.

And you bite her.

“You- you call yourself a goddess,” you scream, fangs wet with her divine ichor. “Of mercy and compassion! But all you do is hand out tools of torture and punishment! I wanted to stay in my forest! I wanted to stay with my friends!” A hard shove, nearly knocking her over. “And you helped Sanzang take me away! You gave him these awful bands and he pretended they were gifts to get me to put them on! But they weren’t! And you let him! And now he uses them to hurt me! I hate you! I hate him! I hate all of you!”

Finally you collapse, sobbing openly into your hands.

Tang Sanzang watches in horror as heavenly blood feeds the ground, causing new and gorgeous growth to break from the soil, flowers blooming in massive clusters.

Wukong seethes that you could be so disrespectful to the one and only god he actually cares for, the only one he finds to be tolerable and kind.

Everyone else just recoils in both fear and hurt, your last words ringing painfully in the ears.

But Guanyin approaches once more, kneeling to level herself with you. There is no retribution or anger in her touch, placing a light kiss onto your forehead.

“You’re right, aren’t you? This journey has not been easy, nor has it been kind- and for you especially, perhaps it has been cruel. And I too, have been unkind to dabble in your affairs. Will you allow me to ease the burdens of your travel?”

From a silk pouch does she procure a mirror, pushing it into your shaking hands.

“My child, I give to you this heavenly mirror, which has been forged from blessed steel and holy sand melted to glass by dragonfire. To look upon it will show you your beloved forest, and all those you have left behind.”

———————————————————————-

Now, this is super important- Y/N’s involvement in the journey is incredibly unfair. The others come because they seek personal growth or redemption, but Y/N?

They had to come. They were tricked into thinking those golden tightening bands were gifts and eagerly asked Sanzang to help put them on, jumping up and down in excitement at receiving something so pretty. The only reason they agreed to wear these ‘generously’ gifted bands was because they thought it was an honest gift.

So there’s already a sense of betrayal about the whole thing, that their first gift from anyone was actually just a trap to pull them along on a lengthy and dangerous journey.

Then, where the others were either entirely willing (Sanzang) or had to redeem themselves for crimes or mistakes (Wukong), Y/N was forced to come along with their worst crimes being: fighting off invaders and killing poachers. And all for that, they are ripped from home and forced to leave behind everything they’ve ever known and loved.

And Guanyin does three things here:

1. Acknowledges your anger/sorrow.

2. Validates your feelings without hesitation.

3. Actively works to soothe them.

With the mirror in hand, you can look upon the Emerald Grove and see your old animal friends, know that they’re safe even without you, and put your fears to rest.

It’s not perfect.

But it’s a good start to get you to actually care about these pilgrims, given that you don’t spend every night in flurry of nightmares, thinking fitfully of your beloved forest.

[dawnoftime22]

glasses.

| T.S

Warnings: None!

Summary: Wearing your glasses frustrated you, and Taylor figures out why.

Word Count: 506

Category: Fluff

A/N: look who finally wrote a shorter fic for once... :')

| Started on 17/10/2024, 9:43 AM |

| Finished on 04/11/2024, 7:26 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

“Sweetheart. You're silly.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

The bedroom was dimly lit, and the sound of the fan humming to send gentle winds across your skin were all you could hear, aside from the tv show Taylor was watching.

"Glasses are stupid..." you murmur, your voice holding frustration. You've been cuddling with Taylor for the past few minutes, resting the side of your head against her.

Taylor looks down, blinking at you. "Why, baby?" she whispers with a chuckle, raising her eyebrow. "They help you see, you know," she adds, smiling softly.

You sigh softly, leaning more into her. "Yeah, but I can't...bury my face and be comfortable with you unless its, like, bedtime..." you murmured, your voice sounding oh, so defeated. Even the way it rested on the bridge of your nose felt uncomfortable.

Her features soften, but she resists to laugh, stifling it by pursing her lips.

"Sweetheart..." she starts, her arms gently pulling you closer. You melt into her, as if she was one of your plushies.

"Why don't you just get contacts?" she suggests, her mind wandering. But then she feels you tense slightly, hugging her further.

"Contacts are scary," you mumbled, pouting ever so slightly. This time, she couldn't resist at least a chuckle getting breathed out.

"Because they go in your eyes?" she whispers, leaning forward and tilting her head down ever so slightly, wanting to see your pout.

You nod gently, taking in a deep breath. "Yeah, and because some things happen to people who wear them," you whisper out, nearly hiding into her side the best you could.

She could understand it now, what you meant. But with her having gotten one herself before, she would at least want to urge you to, considering she was fine.

"Its not all the time though," she reassures, her hand soothingly going in a slow up and down motion on your arm.

You look up at her, pouting even deeper, possibly. "Still scary." You slump your shoulders, your glasses shining in even in the dim light.

She smiles softly at you, seeing how upset you were. "Here," she murmurs, her hand reaching up to your glasses.

"Just take it off..." She slips them off your ears carefully, then folded them, setting them at the side, where the nightstand was.

"But I can't see your gorgeous face," you mumbled. She blushes, but now giggled softly, her arms returning to wrap around you once more.

"Baby, shh...we're close enough, just kiss me all over or something if you want to be closer," she said, leaning in to sweetly kiss your cheek.

A smile replaces your pout now, and you return the kiss, but on her lips. "I love you," you breathed out against her lips.

Her smile turned even wider, and she kisses you back, with just as much affection.

"I love you, too," she whispers. You bury your face into her finally, cuddling closer. Her heart melts at the gesture, and she pulls you even more against her.

-------------------------

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[nikosaki]

Hello there 👋, I hope you’re having a great day

I saw that you’re open for some requests, may I request some scenario/short fic for Fyodor Dostoevsky, in a story where Fyodor and Reader (female) are childhood friends, and they both got separated for some quite long time due to some family business reasons, because of that, Reader doesn’t recognize Fyodor anymore (she still remembers him, but she forgot how his face looks like). One day, they both meet again at the moment where Fyodor got captured by Ace (the white haired mafia executive from season 3 episode 4), and reader was currently working as his subordinate, I don’t know if you’re accepting some angst with happy ending, but if you don’t, then you’re allowed to decline this request, that’s all, thank you 🙏💖

"Come with me, my angel. I will sew your wings back where they belong"

Summary: You were but a flower in the wide open to him fo back in his childhood you were the only companion he had, now Fyodor meets you again but in hands of another man, will he truly resurect you or leave you as you be?

Genre: hurt to comfort (kindaof), romance Warnings:fem reader, suicide (implied for ace), slight manipulation, follows canon events of the episode, dialogues are different, not proofread, reader collapses because of overload information

A/N: this seemed so intresting :0

Fyodor remembers it all, from the day you had first met him in a fancy doll-like attire to the day he lost you.

He remembers everything.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

"I get to choose the type of game we play" the white-haired man says a tint of arrogance splayed on his tone, ace thought he had everything in control from his subcordiates to the hostage infront of him. He had already debated he would win.

"Go ahead" the man replies back his thick russian accent hiding an enigma. You were simply Ace`s right hand but how tired you were from this mans arrogance as if he was the king or something.

"Hm, this man seems quite intelligent i wonder if he can beat Ace, i really do hope he does" you think to urself you always remained quiet and god had somehow accepted your request

"Name! go get a stash of playing cards" Aces harsh tone cuts your thoughts off as you slightly roll your eyes and leave to get the cards. The thing you didnt know was the purple-eyed sharp gaze you may have forgotten who he was but he didnt.

"Is she another of your subcordinate?" he asks, fake curiosity in his tone. "Why yes could you not see the collar around her neck? Such a pretty face should not go to waste!" Ace mocks not knowing you were behind the door gritting your teeth.

"Sir, i have brought the items" you break their conversation bending over to hand over the stash of items "Ah finally" Ace heaves in exaustaion as if hes the one who was made to fetch them, his hand snatching the deck of cards hastily.

You couldnt care any less about the game they were playing but you could only focus on the man infront of you, beautiful amethyst eyes dark bags under them and luscious raven like hair one would mistake them for the feathers of a real crow.

Where have you seen such soft hair before?...

"Name, this is Fyodor Dostoevsky" the woman you called mother told you introducing you to the boy infront of you "Well then we will leave you two in the library while we talk about important matters.

Just like that your parents left and you approached the sickly boy crouching down to the wooden floor. "Why do you look so sickly?" you ask the boy as he only glares at you one could say, a tired glare.

"Maybe because i am sick?"

With that you and the sickly boy had interacted more talking and talking for hours, Actually you didnt even care how many hours it had been past back then. The words he uttered made it seemed endless and his topics made you less bored.

Even for fyodor, he was piqued in you, though you may looked like a mindless puppet back then, you had a mind compared to a jungle filled with wild flowers, how etheral and terrifying was something so vast and wide.

“Dear, we must go now bid farewell now” your mother’s voice rang out from the door of the warm and cozy library. “Ah farewell, dostoevsky” you stand up pushing the dust off from your white skirt. “Please, call me fyodor” fyodor quietly replies to which you only smile

“Alright, fyodor”

The next couple of days, you remembered how you had met with this young Russian boy and spent much of your time with him, he was far more interesting than any books you have read or any jewels you inspected.

You remember sitting down under the shadows of oak trees talking about the world beyond this small area of russia.

“Do you believe in immortality?” He asked “Maybe, why” she answered to his question which held thousands of answers but he who asked remained silent.

You remained silent watching the men in front of you play deck cards, apparently it was a guessing game.

“Ah” fyodors voice caught you back to the game, he had guessed the last card to your shock but the one who was most shocked was Ace but before you could react he had smashed a wine bottle on the winners head, staining red wine all over his face.

All of this shocked you as you watched ace walk out angrily and just sighed.

“That was really smart of you, Dostoevsky.” Ah- the name you first called him, you had really forgotten have you? “Was it? Well I simply memorised all of the cards imprints layer flat on the table” he remarked nonchalantly. “Simply? That’s quite impressive in my eyes though” you answered back rubbing his ravenous feather like hair with a soft towel as all the other subordinates watched from afar. “Say, what is your ability?” you ask putting his ushnanka “Well my ability allows me to control time and ability” the man answered tilting his head towards you.

He lnsists it’s his ability only for you to kneel down next to his ear, away from the pipe attached to the ceiling

“You are a liar”

Your voice softly whispers in his ears but instead of him being shocked at your intellectual guess, the man can only smirk as he replies back. “Correct, моя дорогая мышка”

Your eyes dilate in shock, the name he called you…

You remember he used to call you this same exact pet name all the time but just because your memories from your past stays on the other side of the storm that doesn’t mean you can’t see through the clouds.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Anxiety casted over you as your eyes meet the disastrous scene unfold infront of you. The white haired man came back but at what cost? The cost of disbelieving in god, the thought brushes over you as you stare at Ace’s hanging body and the little boys corpse.

“Both of them are dead, моя любовь” a voice corrects behind you as you instantly turn around. You stare at the so man who had defeated the port mafia executive, such a man was capable of causing such destruction.

Even so your curiosity seeped through, “Wh- no what are you…?” Your voice could have make a croak when you felt his lip bitten fingers rise your chin towards his menacing eyes.

You could only stare at the man’s eyes, how can a man be so pretty yet cruel at the same time?

“My dear [name], do you not remember the boy you talked under the skies of Moscow city?�� your eyes widen.

“Fyodor? Fyodor Dostoevsky?” This was too much for you, all of the memories appearing in your head like slideshows, your head was feeling dizzy but it was him! Your friend

And before you could say anything you felt your body collapse, with your head falling on his chest not that fyodor was surprised since it went as he planned

His hands pick you up and carries your dizzy form to the boat. After that you didn’t know what happened but somehow you had woken up in a cozy bed.

“Ah моя любовь, you are awake from your slumber I see.” Fyodors calm voice calls out, a much softer and less intimidating smile on his face.

You remain silent before getting up and inspecting his face. “It’s really you..” you try to reach out for his face but hesitate for a while but he says nothing before grabbing your hand.

“[name] I will wholeheartedly explain everything to you, but firstly would you care to join in my mission of redeeming the worlds pure form?” He takes your hand gently and brings it to his lips, looking at you adoringly.

“That means murder and violence am I right, Fyodor?” You ask still captivated by his beauty. “You are quite witty after all” he chuckles to himself

you move away your hand move closer to him before cupping his face and locking your forehead with his, which caught fyodor off guard.

“Yes, yes I will fedya. Anything to be back with you again but this time don’t leave me…please” “of course I won’t, моя дорогая мышка”

a/n: OH MG I AM SO SORRY ANON THIS TOOK SOO LONG

divider: @hyelitas

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Almost My Raven

This is Pt 2 to this fic called Please Don't Prove Me Right. I hope you all enjoy Song: Oh Raven by Unlike Pluto TW: Unrequited love, divorce, depression, sad, angst, some mild comfort

I remember the day clearly when I saw her fall into her own Hell with me. She was a beauty beyond compare, yet I still chose the worst of the two options like a fool. Y/N was bright-eyed and gorgeous, willing to follow me everywhere while also offering comforting advice. Lilith was just attractive and willing to lead me wherever she believed I should go. I knew the day Father cast us down that maybe I made the wrong choice. 

It took eons of loving Lilith and living the life we had built for me to realize where things were going. I was Lilith's source of power, and as soon as I wasn’t cooperative, things took a nasty turn for the worse. Our relationship turned sour as we argued over the most mundane and small things. We fought for our child, our kingdom, and over Y/N. Lilith wasn’t an idiot. She knew that my heart from the beginning belonged to another, but I was a fool not to see it either. 

When Lilith finally left, it was sudden and painful. I had relied on her so much, but it was the end of something I knew as well that wasn’t so great. Tears and years of pent-up depression caught up to me as I had to grapple with all I had truly lost. Because now it was no longer just losing my old home and family but losing Y/N to someone who didn’t even love me enough to stick through the hard times. Or was I the problem since I never truly loved Lilith? 

Y/N, my dear raven; she used to be one of the purest angels, now tainted with those black wings, but who am I kidding? They looked amazing on her, as everything did. The scars around her wrists and neck were faded and sad reminders of how I had failed her. I wished to fix things with her and become friends again. She was my thoughts all through those seven years till I saw her again. 

From the moment I saw her through that portal Adam opened, I knew she was still the one I was meant to be with. I felt the pull to connect with her again, racing to the portal. As I reached out to touch her, I was burned, reminding me that I was chained to Hell and Hell alone. A new wave of sadness overtook me as I watched the portal close, and she faded away. 

I knew then I needed to do whatever I could to open Purgatory to, at the minimum, Hell. I would apologize and beg for forgiveness if she has any forgiveness to give. I hoped she would hear my heart again, like when we were kids. With my new resolve, I took to my study, spending hours working on ways to open up the division. As the days turned to weeks, I looked at the hollow ring on my finger. Slipping it off, I revealed to myself that Y/N was the one for me and I would do anything to prove it. 

Once I had a decent idea of how to counteract my father's division against Y/N and me, things took an unexpected turn. I knew I needed to tell Charlie who she was to me. I couldn’t hide that forever, especially if Lilith returned and I denounced her. However, nothing scared me more than telling my child how I never loved her mother truly and another angel she saw fight against her dreams, the one I truly loved. 

Taking a deep breath, I walked to Charlie's office in the hotel and gently knocked on the cold wooden door. “Char, may I come in?”

“Sure, Dad, the doors open!” She was so happy, and it made this conversation so much harder to have. Taking the brass door handle in hand, the cold touch was almost jarring where my ring once sat. Stepping inside, I made my way to her desk and sat on the edge, a deep sigh leaving me as I contemplated how to let Charlie know about Y/N. 

“Char, I have something important I want to talk about,” I looked at her, noticing the worry in her eyes. I hoped she wouldn’t hate me for what I was about to do and say. “Charlie, I do not love Lilth anymore. I am sorry… I believe that I never truly loved her from the beginning. In reality, there was another angel you have met before… the angel of Purgatory.” I swallowed and looked at her reaction. 

She was a bit taken aback, but she looked interested in what I had to say. Taking that as a safe cue to continue, I did just that: “Y/N is a good person. She was just dragged down with me for being my friend. I told her about my plans with your mother, and she was punished with us. However, do not blame Y/N for how souls are judged. She is just doing what she was forced to do…” 

The laugh that Charlie gave me was unexpected, but the small sad smile was heartbreaking. “Dad, I figured you didn’t love mom anymore. It is odd to hear you never truly did when all I saw for a while was that love, but I understand. I remember seeing how Y/N looked at me and figured something must have once been there. I hope that things can be mended if you ever get the chance, Dad. I will be right by you.”

I teared up, standing and walking over to my daughter, holding her. Hearing her blessing was enough to make my world complete. Tears streaming from my eyes, I held her close and nodded happily that she was on my side for once. I pulled away, sighed, and looked at her paperwork as I calmed down. “Oh, a representative from Heaven is coming to discuss redemption with you? We are sure it’s not another surprise attack from one of Adam’s angels?”

Charlie smiled, shook her head, showed Sera’s signature, and then sighed, sitting back down. “Yeah, I am sure it is a normal visit. I was actually hoping you would accompany me this time. I normally would take Vaggie, but I think it’s time you put your dreams into action, too, Dad.”

I smiled softly, patting Charlie's head. She was right; I needed to face my fears of the past and atone for what I had done. Smiling wide, I agreed to help her in her battle for redemption. Something I never thought would come from Hell, but I was proud to stand beside my child. 

As the day approached to speak to the angels, an uneasy feeling spread in my chest. It felt like I was about to be judged all over again. Sighing, I dressed at my best as I met Charlie in front of the Angelic building in Hell. We looked over the doors and nodded to one another as we entered, looking over the pastel-colored walls. I used to hate this place, yet with Charlie beside me and my resolve to strike a deal to free Y/N, it wasn’t so scary anymore.

As we took our seats, an angelic glow and a black mist formed in the room. There before us stood Sera and Y/N. My heart stopped looking at her. She looked so cold and empty. I bet years of loneliness would do that to you. She looked broken. It took all I could not to rush over and hold her to ask her what had happened and what I could do to help. However, the way she looked at me sent a shiver down my spine. 

“It is a pleasure to see you both here. I have invited Y/N to help discuss how the further redemption process will go. I am unfortunate enough to inform you two that one of your sinners actually now resides as a winner…” I was aghast listening to Sera speak. My eyes widened as they looked between her and Y/N. All I saw was the distant look in those once vibrant eyes as I heard Charlie's excited squeals speaking to Sera. 

This wasn’t the Y/N I used to know. She was so full of life and eager to spend time with me. What happened? Looking back at Sera, I cleared my throat. “Oh, so then we will move along with the redemption plan…” I drifted off in thought, coming up with ideas on how I would rescue Y/N from that Hell she was trapped in. 

“Yes, we will; that is why Y/N is here. She will be the ambassador for redemption program. She will live in your hotel and monitor the souls for when they will be ready to be sent to us.” As the words left Sera’s mouth, I was stunned. I smiled wide and looked at Y/N, hoping to see her excited as well; however, she looked just as indifferent as before. 

“It will be a pleasure to work with you both.” She was so soft-spoken now and bowed deeply like she was below us, even though she was now a high-ranking angel. I swallowed hard and watched as she lifted to speak again. “I will be staying with you for the foreseeable future as you proceed to help redeem more souls. I will accompany you through this journey.” 

I sighed softly and looked at Charlie, who was already rambling about how exciting it all was and how excited she was to finally help her people. I looked back to Y/N, catching her eyes, and when she looked away, I felt a pain in my chest. I knew at one point she loved me how I love her; however, as the meeting progressed, I realized I may have missed my chance with her. 

When we all returned to the hotel, Y/N began enacting all the regulations that Sera and Charlie agreed to. As she was working, I followed behind, hoping to find the words to say to her. The words never came until she turned to look at me and speak herself. 

“Lucifer, I want you to know I understand where your heart lies and who you chose, but please, let’s let the past stay in the past,” She looked like she was choking back tears, and I wanted to wipe them away and hold her close. “However, let us please let work stay work, and we can just pretend what was once between us no longer exists.”

I was taken aback by her admission and shook my head. I was looking for my words when she turned away to go back to her job. Before I could stop myself, I grabbed her arm and spun her around to face me again. Looking at her in the eyes, I moved in slowly, allowing her time to move away. As my lips brushed hers, I closed my eyes and sealed my love for her with a kiss. 

When we pulled away, she was shocked and looked concerned. All I could offer her was my hand where my ring once sat. I finally knew what to say as she looked at the barren skin. “You are as beautiful as a Raven, my dear; please never sing such a sad song to me again. I love you and you alone. I know it will take time, but please let me love you and show you what I should have from the beginning.” 

I knew it would take a lot of time to rekindle what was once lost. All I could hope was that Y/N would be willing to give me that time. And time she did give me.

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@undertale-anomaly20 @noellebellq @n0tmentallystable