#i know someone who had several small dogs

[swannkings]

not even just the ecological damage:

have you ever watched a roaming cat rapidly waste away from an incurable virus? have you ever had to pull somebody else’s pet from beneath your car where they died on the hard concrete and not in a warm home where they were loved? have you ever seen a cat show up in your yard wounded and dripping blood because yours was the closest place to safely rest?

buy an air cleaner and a couple of cat trees or don’t have a cat in the first place. if you can’t or don’t want to spend time with them, then don’t have them at all. save yourself the money, your neighbors the trouble, and those little creatures from hard, short lives, and terrible, painful deaths.

Does it seem weird that people treat cats like they’re wild animals to anyone else? And by that I don’t mean people expect cats to survive on their own in the wild. I mean people act like pet cats who have owners are wild animals that the owners aren’t responsible for.

I never thought about that until a few years ago when someone in the town Facebook group asked who owned a cat that kept jumping in through his windows. It was summer so he couldn’t keep his windows closed (we don’t use air conditioning in this country) and he had a terrible allergy to cats so it was legit dangerous for him to have a cat running around his house.

People started offering solutions like “buy this spray that deters cats” and “you can buy this rolling thing for the top of your fence” but his response was “Okay but why am I expected to spend all this money to keep someone’s pet out? Who owns this cat!?” When he didn’t get an answer he eventually got a friend to pick the cat up when it was in his house and he drove it to a shelter, and informed the Facebook group which shelter. Suddenly the owner responded, angry that he’d do such a thing! Getting the cat back would cost money! But the guy was like where the fuck were you when I asked who the cat belonged to!? I was trying to avoid this!

I was honestly surprised by how many people were on the side of the cat’s owner. Another cat owner on our street isn’t responsible enough to keep her cat indoors but responsible enough to at least buy stuff for other people if her cats bother them. She practically have a small stach of cat deterrent spray she hands out to the neighbors who doesn’t want cats in their garden.

The whole thing really made me realize how strange it is that cats are the only pets where we expect other people to spend their money on building fences to keep them out instead of the owners trying to keep them in, as if they were wild animals with no owner to look after them.

[hanasnx]

“ WHEN THE NIGHT CALLS ” — jason todd.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ sexual content ノ p in v ノ objectification ノ possession ノ roofie mention but not in use ノ gun is involved but no gun play ノ bondage ノ size difference ノ name calling: bitch. NOTES: for @xstarkillerx who drove me wild with one single line.

It takes a lot to please the ARKHAM KNIGHT, most will never know what his approval is like. You are of the few that receive it consistently. Sometimes it's even multiple times a night, frequently.

The HQ is full of bustling militia, passing around beer through strobing lights they crafted from old torches. Their leader was reluctant to let them celebrate, and without several external factors he never would've conceded, but you have a way of persuasion. "If you don't let your men cut loose once in a while, you'll overwork them. They're about to roll into Gotham, let them have this." you believe you had said. Apparently, he'd seen reason through his frighteningly iron grip on this project, or he'd seen your tits in his favorite cami. Either way, you pat yourself on the back.

Your visitation to the keg was met with several hungry men staring you down, offering you compliment atop compliment, one even brave enough to clutch his hand over yours on your cup to bring to the mouth of the nozzle for a refill. They're not stupid, they know you're spoken for—at least in some small way. The most clueless ones may be in denial over the fact you have a special relationship with their boss, but for most it's clear to see that the Arkham Knight stakes a strong claim over you. It's reinforced by your honeyed verbal gratitude towards these desperate men that's immediately followed by your loyal sauntering right over to where the Knight sits. Some deflate with a disappointment knowing you're sweet on them only to return to where you belong, others are smarter than that.

You tilt your head at your disinterested lover, slouched and knees spread in some makeshift throne the boys threw together. The mouth of his heavy handgun strokes up and down his thigh as the digital eyes of his mask watch past you as you approach him. Those gloved fingers tap in a graceful line at the armrest, beginning from his pinky to his thumb in a wave. Despite your hard work in coordinating this, he doesn't seem to be having any fun.

Your thumb swipes at the liquid at the corner of your parted lips, sweeping the bottom one to the side, letting it bob back in place. A motion he takes note of, and finally recognizes you're coming his way, visibly adjusting in his seat to afford you some room. You take the invitation, twirling on your heel to seat on his other thigh, the muscle pressed flush against your sex through your little skirt. A protective arm rounds you, resting the weight of his hand on your bare skin, the tip of his finger toying with your skirt hem. "I don't like that you wore this around them." he speaks into your ear, low and digitally grated. You both know the kind of people he's had to hire, and he's not fucking stupid. His men look at you the way dogs look at fresh red meat.

"I figured it would be alright. You know how to break a jaw, remember?" you reply slyly, an impish grin stretching your smile into something near dazzling. You raise your cup to take a swig, but you glance at him confusedly when the tip of his gun intercepts you, guiding the rim away from your mouth and back onto your lap. With furrowed brows, you inspect the foam of the beer, wondering if he'd seen someone slip you something while they were giving you a refill. Would they be that stupid to do it in front of their boss with eyes like a hawk? You don't know, but you set it off to the side just to be sure.

"Don't like that I'm supervising this thing either. We should be tying up the loose ends." he murmurs, tucking you further into his hard armor. The grip on your thigh suggests he wants to do more than tie up loose ends. A familiar thrill shoots up you, centering in your core, that sensational sting of a memory roots there, making sure you remember what it's like to be filled.

"Why? You wanna tie me up or something?" you suggest playfully.

You didn't think he'd take you seriously. His quarters don't have a headboard, but he didn't seem too worried about that. "Oh—Oh! Jay... Jason, fuck..." you sigh, a dense and gooey pleasure between your legs rolling your pretty eyes into the back of your head. The noises of sex fill the room, skin slapping skin, drenched pussy getting fucked loud and proud.

"Yeah? Yeah, pretty girl, you like that?" he replies with a haughty snicker, peeling your tepid hips off the sheet to meet his own. Big hands grasp the flesh of your backside, lifting and yanking you onto his dick as your tits bounce from the motions. "So wet. You were asking for this, struttin' around in that little outfit—" An obscene groan reverberates from his throat at the memory, throwing his head back as his whole body flexes. Your bound hands lay underneath you, rough rope biting into your skin in a most delicious way. "Fuck, baby, push me off if you don't want me to cum all up in this cunt." You mewl pathetically, squirming in his grip only for him to laugh at you. His gorgeous body rolls under your gaze, deliberate and slow, licking your insides with his fat cock. "Yeah, bitch, take it. Take it just like a fucking fleshlight. Let those cucks know you're cuffed."

[krilati]

Tim, who is not Robin, but still feral

Okay, let's say Tim's parents decide that even if their child doesn't need a nanny, they want someone to check on their son's well-being. So Tim is required to go to the doctor once a week. And after he tried to bribe his first one to just tell his parents everything was fine. Janette decided it would be someone else each time.

Tim gets a car once a week that picks him up to see a doctor he doesn't know.

That way he doesn't have time to search for dirt, and he can't bribe anyone, since everyone drinks his mother more than him.

So after Nightwing turned Tim down (Dick later claimed the boy was black-haired and blue-eyed, but since he was often hallucinating Jason at the time, even he wasn't sure). The guy realized he couldn't go to Batman and insist on being Robin. The first fracture (which is 100% likely to happen in the early days of jumping on roofs and kicking angry adults) and the doctor would hand him over to his parents.

So Tim came up with a Plan.

Batman was angry, for a month now someone, every patrol, has been standing up for criminals. If he's lucky, he manages to land 5 hits (dude, your 1 hit can put a person in the hospital, Tim just has short legs, he still needs to run to the edge of the necessary roof) when someone distracts him.

Last time, they poured a bucket of paint on his head, it became almost impossible to see through the mask. Another time, they shot paintballs at his head until he left.

There was another memorable incident when something small landed on his head, and the next moment he was attacked by bats.

But today he finally cornered the attacker, it was a child whose face was hidden behind a mask that completely covered his face, and his hair was hidden behind a hood. He slowly approached the boy, he needed to find out who he worked for. Who decided that they had the right to interfere with him punishing criminals.

Only when Batman grabbed the attacker by the shoulder he felt dizzy and then everything around him went dark. Tim quietly patted himself on the head for the backup plan of the backup plan.

After waking up, Batman did not feel calmer, on the contrary, this meeting ignited even more rage in him.

How dare this child run around Gotham so carefree when his son was killed, how dare he protect criminals when one of them killed his son, how dare he..

That day, a file on a new criminal with high priority appeared on the Batcomputer, Alfred only reproachfully pursed his lips.

By the time Red Hood escaped from Talia (Yes, he escaped here, I don't know for sure, but I think Talia was pitting Jason against Tim to ensure her son had direct access to Bruce's legacy). Batman and Tim's confrontations became legendary.

Tim even had his own name and merchandise! Several names, actually, he was called Gotham's Whisperer, the Soul of Shadow, or Little Shadow. And in various Gotham stores you could find little figurines of him with various weapons that he demonstrated during this time.

Nightwing adored the little guy, although he had never met him in person. In fact, no one except Bruce had ever encountered the kid. And although Oracle never officially supported the boy, she never warned Batman if she saw a small dark silhouette through the cameras. Although Dick really wanted to know where the kid got the sniper rifle with tranquilizers, or how he hacked the Batmobile to put a sleeping Bruce in it and send him to the Cave, or how he got so many incriminating photos of Batman that he scattered all over the city when Batman didn't take one of his threats seriously.

Simply put, Nightwing was a fan, and had wanted the kid's autograph ever since the kid evacuated an entire alley, including Bruce, by playing the sound of a pack of rabid dogs approaching.

Batman, though he had passed the peak of his rage, still made Gotham afraid if he was spotted trolling alone.

Red Hood was furious, not only did his father not have the courage to avenge him, but he also dared to splash out his aggression on anyone who was not breathing smoothly on HIS Alley of Crime.

[halfricanloveyou]

9) My cat travels on a leash. I can’t do any outdoor leash training with him if your dog is off leash. Your dog may be nice and friendly, but even nice and friendly dogs will kill cats. If your dog has never been around a cat it may try to kill my cat. It’s just part of what a lot of dogs do.

Everyone else talked about outdoor cats, it's time for me to talk about offleash dogs

[themidnightcrimson]

skirt ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda gets a little too handsy during a small party.

words: 4.5k

warnings: top!wanda, fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, severely gay ogling, reader being a fuckin simp

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Steve had unfortunately complained to Tony that the parties he always held in his huge, modern, techno mansion were not intimate enough. Tony, always ready to take complaints from Steve with a cheeky attitude, passed the message along to Pepper who decided to truly make something cozier for everyone.

Tony’s parties were pretty much bi-weekly at this point, every other Friday night. The team almost always showed up in entirety, and the regularity of it was becoming sentimental to some of you. Even Tony was starting to plan them: “You guys gotta try this whiskey. I’ll bring it next Friday” or “I swear, Cap, I’m gonna put you in a suit on Friday and shoot you up to Mars.” It was cute.

Tonight, instead of drinking and playing poker around Tony’s in-house bar room, Pepper had set up something beautiful outside. You’d arrived at the party with Nat, stepping through the back patio of Tony’ mansion and seeing something set up in his backyard. Tied between two trees was a large white screen, and several yards in front of it was a projector mounted onto the roof of the patio, pointed right towards the screen.

In front of the screen, on the lush, freshly-trimmed grass yard, was a whole bunch of pillowy chairs with blankets cast over them, set up like little cots. To the side of the arena was a little hot dog stand that also had a big red and golden popcorn machine currently popping popcorn attached to its hip, as well as a large futuristic-looking cooler full of ice and bottled drinks. There was even an attachment on the front of the hot dog stand with an array of candy bars.

Strung above the entire arena were strings of fairy lights going in every direction, tied between trees and the railing of the patio porch. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but they were already turned on, providing cute little lights above the cozy scene. It was the homiest thing you’d ever seen at Tony’s home.

“My god,” Nat remarked as she looked around, looking as shocked as you. “It looks like Tony’s planning on proposing to all of us at the same time tonight.”

“I would say yes,” Banner said, coming up beside you and gawking up at the lights. He ran down the steps of the patio and towards one of the fluffy chairs made of pillow, throwing himself down on it and squishing it to the ground. You could hear his sigh of comfort from the patio.

“Do you guys like it?” Pepper asked, coming out of the house. “There’s more food and snacks inside if you guys want anything that’s not out there.”

“I feel like I’m experiencing my first American sleepover,” Nat said, turning to Pepper. “It’s great, really!”

It was cute seeing Nat get so excited like that. Steve showed up behind Pepper and had the same reaction as everyone else, even tearing up a little bit. When Tony reluctantly entered the patio, Steve gave him a slap on the shoulder. “This is really great, Tony. Really great.”

Tony tightly smiled and quickly went back into the house to avoid any more sentiment.

Since the few of you were the first to arrive, you all stayed on the porch and made conversation while waiting for everyone else to show up. It was a chilly spring night, the wind picking up and every once in a while catching the black skirt you were wearing. It was that annoying time of year, of course, where you would have been sweating during the day but now you were shivering at night. You wished you had worn pants instead of a skirt. You didn’t know you’d be thanking yourself later for the opposite.

You had been discreetly waiting for someone the entire time. As more people lingered through the back door into the backyard, you nervously glanced at each figure and hoped it’d be the one you wanted it to be, but it never was.

And then you knew. You didn’t see her, or hear her name, or any other evidence that she was there other than the fact that the pit in your stomach grew and there was a tingling sensation across your nerve endings. The witch always had that affect on you. You didn’t know if it was a spell or something, or maybe you were just acting like a crush-stricken schoolgirl, but you had a habit of always knowing when Wanda entered a room.

Surely enough, through the tinted windows lining the back porch, you could see a flash of red hair making its way towards the back door, that smile you had memorized greeting people as she stepped between them. A shiver crawled its way up your lower spine as the door opened and that face stepped through, the one you’ve been dreaming about, the one that haunts you, the one that twists your stomach into knots when you see it because it makes you think of all the times you’ve touched yourself with that face in mind.

Wanda stepped onto the porch, her hair in wavy locks down her shoulders. She was wearing a soft, light pink sweater that probably looked like off-white to everyone else in the dusk light, but you paid enough attention to know it was pink. It matched the gentle pink in her cheeks, and in her lips…

You and Wanda’s…”situation” was only just blossoming. After months and months of tense friendship and subtle flirting, you’d finally broken the ice when you’d shared a drunken makeout session at one of the parties. You found Wanda to be much bolder than you’d expected her to be, but it invigorated you so. She knew how to keep you on the edge but give you enough to keep you satisfied. She hadn’t fucked you yet, though she’s gotten close. You’ve felt her mouth, and her thigh, but she hadn’t touched you with her hands yet. Her hands.

It was embarrassing when Nat had to snap you out of it. You’d been staring at Wanda since she’d entered the backyard space and got caught up in a conversation with someone else on her way to greet you. You weren’t even sure if she’d seen you yet, but with how sly the witch was, you were sure she was fully aware of everything.

“Hey, you’ve got a little drool there,” Nat said, motioning to her own chin while looking at yours. You blushed and rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath and turning your back on Wanda. Even though she still hadn’t looked at you, you swore you could feel her eyes burning into your back.

“Shut up,” you whispered, crossing your arms and shivering slightly in the cold.

Like clockwork, you suddenly felt a warm arm wrap itself around your shoulders. God, you even recognized her touch now.

Looking up, you saw Wanda appear beside you, her arm slung over your shoulder and pulling you into her gently. You felt the softness of her sweater and her hair against your arm as you were overcome with her cologne. It was sweet but deep, and it made you melt every time you smelled it because it reminded you of all your moments with her.

Wanda smiled down at you, and you half-expected her to lean down for a kiss, but she didn’t. You weren’t public yet, though Nat knew the extent of it, and everyone else had just assumed. They all thought that if you weren’t fucking, it was at least obvious that Wanda wanted to, and no one would dare get in the way of that. This was all without your knowledge, of course, because you were innocent and naïve and thought that no one had any clue about it except for Nat. That was one thing that Wanda liked about you.

“Hey there,” Wanda smoothly said in almost a whisper. Every time you get close to her for the first time, you feel like you’re seeing her for the first time all over again. Her sparkling green eyes, soft lips turned in a self-assured smile, structured cheekbones, her cute little nose. It all made you swoon like a schoolgirl.

“Hi,” you squeaked, feeling your face get hot all over.

Wanda gave a breathy chuckle, obviously picking up on your little squeak. She gave a little space between you for a moment to let her eyes rake down over your figure. They landed at your hips, and her smile faded, turning almost crooked for a moment before she licked her lips and pursed them. “Hmmmm,” she hummed, pulling you into her again, a little tighter now. “You look so fucking good,” she hissed, leaning down towards your ear. You felt her breath fan against your ear, and then her lips grazed it, before she turned away, stiffening as if trying to hold something in. You watched her jaw flex, the muscles straining in her swan neck as she inhaled deeply.

You weren’t sure what exactly was going through the witch’s mind, but your body was burning all over. It almost pained you how you always had such a physical reaction to Wanda.

Wanda did not let go of you. Even as she lingered around the patio, even as people came up and made conversation, she kept you under her arm like her own pet bunny. You felt safe like that, tucked into Wanda, letting her lead the conversations while you just leaned against her soft sweater and inhaled her sweet perfume. The duality of Wanda’s gentle physique but domineering nature made your head dizzy.

Wanda was like a bee to honey to you for the entire time that you and everyone else waited for the party’s population to be dense enough to start a movie on the large projector screen. Finally, once the sun had set and only left an orange streak at the bottom of the sky, Tony came back out onto the patio and, fully equipped in his suit, stuck his hands out to the side and levitated up towards the projector. Halting mid-air, the face of the suit flipped away to reveal Tony’s face.

“Greetings and welcome to the lamest party Tony Stark has ever thrown,” Tony announced, earning several laughs throughout the small crowd of people before flipping the projector on and flying away.

Light illuminated onto the screen, and an old black-and-white Hollywood movie began playing on the screen. People made their way over to the little cots set out on the lawn, while some stayed on the patio pretending to be the adult part of the crowd.

“Want some snacks?” Wanda whispered in your ear, to which you gave a dumb nod, too focused on the way her hand slid down to your waist and gripped it.

Wanda led you over the little hot dog stand that shone like a beacon in the darkening lawn, apart from the light from the movie. You were about to tell Wanda that you wanted popcorn and Skittles, but she somehow beat you to it. “A bag of popcorn and some Skittles,” she told the guy behind the stand. Nodding, he began to load up a bag of buttery popcorn as you looked up at Wanda in confusion to how she knew what you wanted.

Mind-reading can be useful in many ways, kitten.

You thought Wanda had spoken, since you had heard her voice, but her lips didn’t even move and her voice sounded like it was behind you. Your eyes widened in realization that Wanda was using mind-reading on you for the first time—though it actually was about the hundredth time that she’d pried in on your cerebral. It was the telepathic communication that was happening for the first time, but she thought your confusion on the terms was cute.

“Thanks,” Wanda told the guy as he handed you the warm bag of popcorn. She took a bag of Skittles and two bottles of soda and placed her hand on your lower back, her warm palm ushering you towards a cot in front of the screen.

She decided to choose one a little off to the side, spaced out more from any others. It was a double, basically a large pillow in the shape of a chair that could hold two people.

“This is so fun!” you exclaimed, hopping down on the cot and sighing at how soft it was, understanding now why Banner was so relaxed when he had jumped onto one. There was even a little basket beside the chair that held a large, fluffy blanket folded up. Pepper had truly gone all out.

Wanda plopped down beside you, her warm body instantly melting into yours as her weight into the pillowy chair dipped you down closer to her. The redistribution of weight had moved you in a way that your skirt hiked up your legs.

Wanda’s eyes flickered to your skirt, her pupils swarming. You blushed and pulled your skirt down to cover yourself, discreetly watching Wanda blink and force herself to look away. She leaned back in the chair, snaking her arm behind you and curling it around your waist, which only deepened the blush on your cheeks.

Reaching towards your lap, Wanda took a piece of popcorn from the bag you held between your legs and popped it into her mouth. You took a piece and moved it towards your mouth, but suddenly her hand stopped you.

“Nuh uh,” she said quietly, taking the popcorn from between your fingers. “Let me do it.”

You froze, staring at her face that was so close. It was illuminated by the projection on the screen, her green eyes darker than usual.

“Open your mouth,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips. There was a hunger in her eyes as she watched you hesitate before slowly opening your lips, your heart beating twice faster in your chest. Wanda brought the popcorn to your mouth, letting your tongue take it. You were surprised when, as you felt the texture of the popcorn on your tongue and the butter flooded your taste buds, the tips of Wanda’s fingers lingered in your mouth. As you attempted to close your lips, they only closed around her fingers, tasting the extra salt left behind on them. Your face grew red and hot as you watched Wanda smirk, pushing her fingers in just a miniscule bit further, her own lips parting in infatuation as she watched your lips suction around her fingers.

“Good girl,” she whispered, slowly dragging her fingers out of your mouth.

As if nothing happened, as if you weren’t sitting there blushing and sweating and feeling the space between your legs get warm, she went back to simply eating the popcorn and staring up at the screen.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to stop staring at this blasted woman who just teased you so easily and tried to focus on the movie.

Wanda’s handsy-ness wasn’t too extreme during the first half of the movie. It was only her arm around your waist, her hand rubbing your back sensually, her fingers softly combing through your hair and pulling on it hard once or twice just to get a squeak out of you, to which she pressed a discreet kiss to your neck. It was like she was just playing with you. It was like she was just playing with her food.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie, when there was no sight of any sunlight in the dark night sky, that Wanda strengthened her moves on you.

Under the pretty fairy lights, as everyone else started to calm down and really settle into the movie, a chilly night breeze sewed itself through the air. It flittered over your exposed legs, causing you to shiver. Wanda, who’d been trying not to ogle your thighs all night, couldn’t help but see the goosebumps on your tender skin.

“You cold?” she asked in a soft, sweet tone. When you nodded, she reached over to the basket and brought out the large, thick blanket, draping it over the both of your laps. The warm, soft blanket was such a relief to your cold legs, and with Wanda’s body also available to you as a heater, you felt so cozy and safe.

Then Wanda’s hand reached under the blanket and rested on your thigh, her palm curving around it. The action made you stiffen, your skin growing exponentially warmer where her hand touched. The intimacy of the action sent shimmers through you, and you tried to beat back the little smile on your face.

Wanda, on the other hand, was trying not to smirk. She was more purposeful than you gave her credit for, but again, your naivety was what fueled her to see just how much she could get away with.

You were trying your hardest to ignore her hand on your thigh until it suddenly shifted upwards, pushing your skirt up with it. You gasped quietly. Her hand was all the way up your thigh now, gripping your flesh firmly. Her fingers were wrapped into the inner most tender part of your thigh, pressing into the soft skin there.

The heat between your legs amplified with how close Wanda was to it. You couldn’t help but nervously glance around, afraid that somehow someone had seen her hand grab your thigh under the thick blankets. Luckily, no one was looking. The closest person to you was Nat, but she was watching the film with her head tilted and arms crossed, obviously trying to analyze it like she did with most films.

“Wanda,” you whispered, glancing up at her to see that she was already staring at you darkly.

“What, princess?” she asked innocently.

The name struck you like a bullet of white hot fire in the pit of your stomach. She watched you seriously, a smirk twitching the corners of her lips, as she tightened her grip on your thigh. It stung a little, her fingertips digging so hard into that sensitive inner flesh of your thigh, that you almost squeaked.

“If you want to make noises for me, then do it, babygirl,” she lilted, and you almost gasped when her hand slipped fully under your skirt. You squirmed a little, but she looked at you threateningly. “Don’t move.”

Your breathing grew heavy as you looked around again, feeling that for sure someone was looking this time. No one was.

No one will see, detka.

Wanda’s voice was in your head again. You sharply turned to look at her, but she was staring at the screen now.

Suddenly, you felt something under the covers spreading your thighs open. You hadn’t even realized you’d been squeezing them together, but as you looked down at the blanket, you saw a hint of red glaring through it as your legs spread themselves wide open. She was using magic to open you up for her. Out of impulse, you tried to slam them shut, but her magic held you there, the red glare dissipating so as to not draw attention to what was happening beneath the blanket.

Be still.

You bit your lip as you felt Wanda’s hand cup you under your skirt, her palm pressing into your fabric-covered core. Your breath quivered out of both nervousness and pleasure when she found your clit through your panties and slowly rubbed it.

I can feel how wet you are through your panties, princess. Her voice was even husky in your head.

You tried to keep still as Wanda rubbed your sensitive nub, looking around again to see that still no one was looking at you. But the fact that anyone could look over at the wrong moment, see part of Wanda’s arm stretched towards your lap under the blanket, seeing shapes inappropriately moving under the fabric, instilled a sense of fear into you that seemed to propel your desire.

Good girl, just keep being still for me. I know how bad you’ve been wanting this. You’ve dreamed so much of my fingers.

God, how did she know? Had she been spying on you?

Her fingers dipped down your fabric-covered slit, tickling there for a moment and feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. You were soaking by now, you could feel it, and it only got worse when Wanda started to push your panties to the side.

You started to open your mouth to tell her no, that she shouldn’t do that in front of everyone at a party, that anyone could look over and see and that it’d be so embarrassing, but her voice was quick to reprimand you.

So what if someone sees? I’ll let anyone know that you’re all mine.

With that, her fingers successfully slipped under the thin, stretchy fabric of your panties and met your soaking cunt. You heard Wanda let out a tense breath as she seeped her fingers through your sopping folds, her jaw flexing again.

You’re so fucking wet, babygirl. Her voice growled within your head, dizzying you.

You glanced around nervously, almost thinking someone was looking at you, but finding that no one was still. You felt so nervous about it, so paranoid, but your feverishness was mostly just from Wanda’s fingers rubbing your bare clit now, moving your wetness all around.

I’ve been wanting to feel your pretty cunt for so long. You just had to wear this slutty little skirt tonight, hmm?

Heat burned throughout you as Wanda’s fingers moved towards your entrance, circling it. You stiffened a little, not knowing exactly what to expect from her. You had to force yourself to not gyrate against her hand, to not turn to her and beg for her to just do it, to not moan out loud. It was especially hard not to do the last thing when Wanda’s fingers thrusted inside you.

“Oh—” you started, until Wanda’s magic snapped your mouth shut. Wanda went completely still, freezing completely. You took a blushing, nervous glance around and nearly died when your eyes made contact with Nat’s eyes.

You froze like a deer in headlights. Nat was staring at you while Wanda’s fingers were inside you for the first time. You were looking her in the eye while your walls clenched around Wanda. You wanted to set yourself on fire.

Fortunately, Nat only gave a casual little head nod and a smile and then turned back to the movie. You knew Nat well enough to know that she wasn’t just pretending that she didn’t see anything. Luckily for you, she really had not noticed anything unusual other than your usual awkwardness around Wanda.

Close call, princess. You almost got found out for being a slut for me.

Taking a shaky breath, your hand crawled around until it found Wanda’s knee under the blanket and gripped it for dear life as she started thrusting her fingers inside you. You tried not to whine at the stretch—it’d been a while for you.

You’re so fucking tight, baby. Wanda’s voice was breathy in your head.

You threw your head back a little as Wanda’s fingers pumped in and out of you, and you could even hear the faint wet sounds coming from under the blanket. It made you feel so dirty, getting fingered like that in front of everyone, and being so wet for it, too.

I knew you were such a slut for me. What if I rip the blanket off right now, hmm? Expose you for spreading your legs for me even in public like a whore?

Gritting your teeth together, you felt Wanda’s two fingers hitting a sweet spot inside you. It was so hard to not buck your hips, to not squirm or moan or do anything but etch claw marks into Wanda’s knee.

And then you felt a more noticeable stretch. Squeezing your eyes shut, you felt Wanda force a third finger into you. This time you couldn’t help it. You threw your head to the side and buried it in Wanda’s chest, letting out a mix between a quiet moan and a sigh that luckily was muffled by Wanda’s sweater. Keeping as still as possible, you inhaled Wanda’s perfume and scratched the fuck out of her knee as she pumped three fingers inside your cunt at an agonizingly slow speed. You knew she would’ve fucked you a lot harder if it weren’t for the sake of being discreet.

“Wanda,” you murmured into her chest, feeling the valley of her breasts from beneath her sweater cushioning your face. “Wanda, I’m close.”

Her fingers were hitting so deep inside you. They were so long, and she was curling them, and she was hitting your sweet spot deep inside, and you could feel your juices dripping down yourself.

Hold it. She commanded.

You didn’t even realize it, but you clamped your teeth around a chunk of her sweater, biting down hard on the thick cable-knit fabric as the woman’s fingers plundered you at a steady pace. You didn’t even know if anyone was looking at you now, and you didn’t even care because your body was starting to tremble as you struggled to not cum all over her fingers.

Finally, when you begged again, she acquiesced with Cum for me, princess.

It took all of your power to not moan out loud as you orgasmed with Wanda’s fingers lodged deep inside you, your walls spasming around them and your hips trembling. She nuzzled her nose against the top of your head and hissed when you bit down on her sweater again and accidentally bit into her breast. She held you still with her spare arm, her fingers deep in you, as you came down from the blinding high.

“That’s it,” she whispered into your hair. “Good girl, just breathe.” You were breathing very hard to make up for not being able to moan. “You were such a good, quiet girl for me, angel.” The praise landed over you like soft kisses until you realized she was also pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

It didn’t help that, when you had finally calmed down and Wanda pulled her shiny fingers out of you, she popped them into her mouth and sucked off all of your cum. You blushed and dug your face into her chest again, this time purposefully biting her breast which made her hiss again and then giggle evilly.

Luckily, no one had seen you get fingered by Wanda, at least not to your knowledge. Nothing had ever come out of it, at least, except that Tony spread a rumor that you had peed yourself during the party because when you stood up from the chair at the end of the night, there was a wet spot right under where you had been sitting.

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 4

Word Count: 11.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because finding you was all that mattered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Xavier? Is that you??"

His heart nearly stopped.

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

And now, you were almost free.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But nothing came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, you okay?"

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

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

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

"What happened to your arm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please, Xavier... please pick up.

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

The phone rang again... and again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is he looking for?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His words hung in the air, cold and final.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least he gave you warm baths.

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

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

The cold water finally stops.

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

[aphrogeneias]

i just don't know what to do with myself — one-shot

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x assistant!reader

summary: you and eddie got into a fight for the first time since you started... whatever it is there is between you. it's a lot to process, but he can't stay away from you for too long.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: angst with a happy ending. drinking and driving (don't do that, kids). jealous!reader. smut (+18) with feelings. possibly dubcon (one of them is slightly intoxicated). eddie munson's puppy dog eyes.

author's note: it's been a long time coming... thank you to all those who waited <3

The street around him was busy, the rows of bars all over the block bursting with people. The yellow light from the lampposts and the neon red sign from the bar he'd parked right under lit his car from the outside in, a sickly kaleidoscope of the night life he was trying to run from, but Eddie made no move to leave.

He didn't want to.

It was a way to torture himself — unconsciously, maybe. Life went on around him, loud and bright, but inside, everything was dead still.

Eddie thought about you as he took another sip from the bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the middle console. You were supposed to go home from the shoot with him. Did you take a ride with someone else? Did you take the subway home? If he knocked on your door now, would you answer it?

Had he crossed a line? No, scratch that. He'd crossed several lines the day he led you into his bed, and several other ones before that. That wasn't the question he should be asking, but Eddie couldn't help the thoughts that lingered like a cloud of smoke over his weary mind.

He'd left the photo studio that day a mess, your words ringing in his ears like bells. “I don't want to talk to you right now”, you'd said. Did you mean it? Should he not have insisted, then? Did he make everything worse?

He didn't even know what exactly he did wrong. You'd said it was your mistake, actually, and the more he thought about it, the more it broke his own heart.

Was being with him a mistake? Letting him in, that was your mistake?

Oddly enough, if that was the case, he understood. After all, he was the one who twisted the nature of your relationship, and you let him. It was selfish, but from the moment he saw you, he had to have you. The girl in the background who took his entire attention.

You still had it, it was irrevocably yours. Eddie thought of you every day since then.

And, perhaps, he thought, the worst thing about being away from you was the fact that he'd always believed you had the power to make everything right.

Whether it was your unwavering presence, a rock in the middle of the storm that seemed to be his life, or just your way of coming up with the most logical, practical decision to his most out-there problems — and even when you didn't, you were there. Just there, with a hand to hold, with a lap to lay his head on, with lips to kiss him and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Now that you'd turned your back on him, he didn't know what to do with himself.

The radio was long forgotten, but still on. Through the static, Dusty Springfield's voice came through, the orchestral track rising and rising behind it. He recognized it from one of his mom’s old records, and chuckled to himself, humorlessly.

In one moment, he hung his head over the steering wheel, hitting it with his forehead. In the other, it was like the car gained a life of its own.

Dusty’s voice carried on with the wind.

That small apartment building hadn't always been your home.

It was one of Rick’s apartments, where he'd let you live in — insisted on it, really — because your old one was falling apart and he didn't want you getting in another fight with your landlord. If Rick hadn't, then Eddie was ready to ask you to live with him.

Wouldn't be such a smart decision, looking back at it.

He walked up the stairs feeling less determined, more defeated than in the past few days. Lethargy sat on his bones, and he didn't know if it was the alcohol, the lack of sleep, or his brain that refused to shut down.

He just needed to see you.

Time stood still as he waited for you to open the door.

In those few, but long, moments, Eddie decided he would be fine if you shut the door on him the second you saw who was waiting for you on the other side. At least he would be able to see your face again.

Any other day, he'd laugh at the pity party he's throwing himself, but his heart ached too much to have any sort of self-awareness — see, he had never felt this way before.

When the lock moved, the key turned, and your sweet, confused face appeared through the doorway, something squeezed and bled inside his chest. He couldn't speak, but you did.

“Eddie?” You frowned. “What happened?”

“Hi.” He said, almost breathless, and suddenly, he doesn't feel as tired.

You were on your sleep clothes, a button down pajama set he'd sure seen before. A sight for sore eyes, with your sleepy face furrowed in confusion. If he touched you, Eddie mused, you'd be warm all over. It filled him with a longing greater than he thought he could handle.

“Hi,” you responded, opening the door a little wider, silently letting him in. He noticed you had almost let a pet name slip, “what's wrong?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

He stood in the middle of your living room, hands on hips, ready to wage war. It was frustration, not only due to what you'd said, but also to being in the same room as you and not being able to touch you. It raged inside of him, making his hands itch.

Eddie watched as you sat on the armrest of your couch, and struggled to find your words. “I'm sorry I haven't reached out. But to be fair, neither has you.”

“I thought you didn't want to hear from me.”

“Oh, Eddie. No! I'm…” You sighed, pinching your nose between delicate fingers, and your shoulders fell. “I'm embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed of what?” He asked, slowly. Crossing his arms, bracing himself.

“Of everything I said to you! I overreacted. I saw you with that model and all these insecurities came through. I couldn't keep it in so threw it all on you, and I couldn't take it back anymore. I feel ridiculous now.”

His eyebrows furrowed deep as he listened to you explain yourself, a whine coming through your lips as you got close to finishing. He tried to understand, his resolve slipping through his fingers.

“You could have talked to me instead of walking out.”

“I know!” You finally looked him in the eyes. “Like I said, I got embarrassed, and I thought you were mad at me…”

“I am. Still am, for the record.”

“And you have every right to be.” You looked defeated. Eddie wished he could change that. “I'm sorry. I should have talked to you. Actually talked.”

“It's just…” Eddie turned on his axis, flailing his arms around. “What were you thinking? What was that?”

“I saw you with that model and just couldn't help but think of all the better options you have out there. All the women surrounding you just seem like a more obvious option than me. Sometimes I can't help but wonder why you brother with this complicated thing we have when you could have anyone you want. Easily.”

He crumbled, then. “Oh, sweet girl…”

His feet moved first, towards you, and his knees followed, bending to your level. You looked down at him, eyes wide, as he splayed his cold hands over your bare thighs, making you flinch, but not move away.

“I don't want anyone else. You're the only one I see. All those other people… they don't exist to me. You have to know that.”

Tentatively, you reached out, twirling a lock of his hair around your finger. “Forgive me for doubting you?”

It was his turn to sight then, resting his head on your knee. He stood again, this time taking you with him. “C’mere.” He said, pulling you in.

Those same cold hands frame your face, pull you to his lips with fervor. He kissed you like he never did before. Hungry, ready to devour. Bumping your body back into the couch behind you, careless in his eagerness. Hands gripped you tight, pressed you close to his body. Begging silently, don't go.

“Ed,” you pulled back slightly, resting your forehead on his. “How much did you have to drink, honey?”

You must have felt it in his breath. He felt ashamed too, just as you did a mere minutes ago, but didn't have it in him to argue.

“Baby, please.” He said, running his nose over your heated cheek. “Not much, not nearly enough. Jus’ need to feel you. Please.”

“Are you sure?” Your breathing trembled as he ran his hands over your waist, down to the hem of your sleep shirt and under it, feeling your skin under his fingertips.

It felt like redemption.

He didn't take time to answer you, instead kissing you again. Tasting you on his tongue, drinking from you. Eddie kissed with his whole body, entangling himself on you, surrounding you on him. He needed to be the only thing on your mind. Bruising your lips with his, sucking your tongue as you mewled against him.

It didn't take long until you were clumsily walking back into your room, bumping into the walls along the way. He'd walked you back into the wall in the small corridor, kissing down your neck, unbuttoning your shirt with unusual dexterity for someone who had way too much bourbon in one night. Your pajamas fell into the floor before you even reached your bed.

Eddie whispered sweet nothings as he took in your body, never leaving you without his touch. He took the time to remember you — because a few days were enough for him to miss you to the point of forgetfulness.

To remember the way you liked to pull on his hair when he was between your thighs, covering your pussy with his mouth. He sighed with reverence against your swollen clit, pulling it between his lips, revelling in the sounds he pulled from you.

He let you grind against his mouth, fucking you with his tongue.

“Baby, baby, baby.” You whined. “Don't stop.”

He let his body answer for him, pulling you closer by the thighs, letting them close around his head. Letting you use his tongue, he let you ride out your high, but just barely enough until he was crawling over your spent body, still trembling under him, peppering kisses all over your torso.

“Missed you so fucking much.” He mumbled into your skin, “Don't do this to me again.”

You shook your head into your pillow, “I won't. I won't.”

Still keeping your legs open, grip hard enough to leave bruises, he positioned himself in your entrance. He couldn't stop touching you — face pressed into your face, taking in your scent, running the reddened head of his cock over your sensitive cunt.

“Don't want you away from me ever again. Promise me, baby.”

“I promise.”

It was no more than a broken moan as he entered you, filling you up to the brim, barely giving you time to adjust. You squirmed under him, grasping for purchase on his back, nails scratching down his skin.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathed. He knew he sounded frenzied, desperate for you. It wasn't like he had it in him to care, not when you felt like velvet around him. “That's it. That's it.”

He kept a slow but steady rhythm, fucking into you with purpose, heavy balls hitting your ass with each long stroke. His head hung in your neck as he heard your moans grow louder and louder, the wet sounds of your sex filling the room.

“Yeah? I know. I know, sweetheart.” Eddie kissed the junction between your neck and shoulder, feeling your skin rise. “You missed me too, didn't you?”

“S’much.” You whimpered, clenching around him harder.

Without warning, he picked up the pace, feeling you were close. One of your legs lifted to his shoulder as he pistoned into you, hellbent on making you cum. He thrusted again and again and again, like a mantra. Like a plead.

As you shook underneath him, he kept going. Going and going and going.

He hoped that was enough to make your thoughts stop running from him. You could talk in the morning.

[ataliagold]

you're the only one who knows, you slow it down

For @astrangersummer week 13 prompts 'cat' and 'farmers market'. Title from Look After You by The Fray. And yes, I watched A Quiet Place Day One and was obsessed with Frodo...

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

W/C: 1791

Tags: Modern AU, No Upside Down, First Meeting, Steve has PTSD, Steve has a service cat, Steve wears glasses, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, panic attacks, Eddie takes care of Steve, referenced child abuse, autistic Steve (not overly relevant here but still)

Summary: Eddie's at a farmers market when he's approached by a very determined black and white cat. On a whim, he follows him to a young man having a panic attack in the woods.

___

Eddie’s browsing the little jewelry stand at the far end of the Farmer’s Market, glancing over hand-made leather bracelets and cheap silver rings while the old lady behind the table watches him hopefully. Over a blare of emergency sirens from the street in the distance he can hear Wayne behind him bartering with someone who’s wanting to buy one of his plants, the plants Eddie had been roped into carting there from the van in boxes that were too fucking heavy and he’d been drenched in sweat almost immediately under the summer sun.

He looks up briefly, regrets it immediately because the vendor’s eyes light up and fuck now he’s gotta buy something…

He’s interrupted by something soft brushing against his ankle.

Hanging up a black leather band, he looks down. Blinks a few times, confused.

There’s a black and white cat butting its little head against his leg. The cat stares back up at him with yellow eyes, wide and imploring.

“Uh….hi?” Eddie says, moving his leg away a bit because he doesn’t really do cats, has never interacted with them much before to be fair, other than the feral ones that hung around the trash in the trailer park and those weren’t exactly…friendly.

This guy is far cuter and cleaner than those cats ever were, though.

He’s got a maroon collar with a tag attached, and a red harness with a loose lead trailing behind him.

The cat steps closer to Eddie. Insistent now, shoving his face into his ankle again, then lets out an imploring meow.

“Where’s your owner?” Eddie asks to no one in particular, swiveling his head and surveying his surroundings. He sees fruit stands with enormous oranges, a honey stall, someone selling flowers off to his right, a small crowd browsing the wares but no one that looks like they’ve lost a black and white cat.

The cat meows again.

Eddie stoops down, gingerly reaches for its collar, reads the tiny writing on the tag in hope of some owners’ details.

Frodo - service cat

And Eddie had heard of service dogs, sure, but a cat?

A great name though, he admits.

He squints at the phone number etched below the name. Pulls out his phone, dials it. All the while Frodo meows at him, slams his head more forcefully into Eddie’s shin.

The call rings out to a voicemail, a guy called Steve in the message.

Eddie hangs up. Sighs, carefully pats the cat with a single finger on his head.

“You’re kinda cute, huh?” Eddie murmurs. “Someone’s missing you, for sure.”

He stands up again. Frodo moves several steps away, stops, stares back at him.

A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head.

He takes a step towards the cat. Frodo squeaks out a noise that seems happy to Eddie, and he steps even closer.

Frodo turns tail and trots off away from the market, and Eddie follows, Frodo glancing back every now and then to check Eddie’s still with him.

And so, the cat leads him towards a little copse of trees on the far side of the park. It’s pretty deserted out here, with most people busy browsing the market instead of taking their morning walks.

But as they get closer to the clearing in the middle of the trees, Eddie hears it.

Light gasps, panicked breathing, someone trying to suck in oxygen that just won’t come.

He quickens his step towards it. Frodo speeds up too, breaking away from Eddie now and bounding into the trees.

There’s a young man sitting in the dirt.

His knees are pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, and he’s rocking back and forth a little. His cheeks are wet, eyes clenched shut behind crooked glasses.

Eddie drops to his knees beside the man, hand hovering above his shoulder, not sure whether or not to touch because he knew a thing or two about panic attacks, knew this was what he was seeing, didn’t want to frighten the man and make it worse…

Frodo presses himself up against the man’s side, trills quietly. The man shifts, blindly reaches for the cat, unfolds himself a bit and hauls the animal into his lap, burying his face in warm fur.

“…hi,” Eddie says quietly, barely audible, clears his throat and tries again. “Hi. I’m…I’m Eddie.”

The man goes still. Freezes, noticing Eddie for the first time. He peeks out from behind Frodo’s head, blinking up at Eddie, eyes red and sore-looking but also honey-brown and soft. He’s got moles dotted across his cheeks, hair long and mussed and falling across his face.

He’s fucking gorgeous, Eddie’s brain supplies.

He forces that thought away – it’s not exactly helpful right now.

“Are you Steve?” Eddie guesses.

A small, singular nod.

“I found your cat,” Eddie supplies. “Or…he found me, I guess. Led me here. He’s pretty clever.”

“He’s the b-best,” Steve croaks, his voice raspy and rough and broken. “He’s a service cat. But you can…you can go, s’fine.”

Eddie frowns, shakes his head. “I’m thinking he came and got me for a reason, huh?”

Steve looks away, shrugs.

Eddie waits, gives him time to answer, but Steve doesn’t speak again. He hugs his cat to his chest, still lightly trembling all over.

“How about…I sit here for a few minutes, and you take some deep breaths, huh? I’m thinking you’ve had a panic attack, and those suck – trust me, I know – but you need to get your breath back, ok?” Eddie reaches for Steve, hand ghosting over his shoulder now.

Steve flinches lightly, but doesn’t pull away.

Frodo purrs away calmly in Steve’s lap, letting his owner squeeze him close.

And Eddie sits, and waits.

He remembers his own panic attacks as a kid, after he’d wake up from a nightmare about his dad – where he swore the stench of alcohol was in his room, when his dad was surely just outside his bedroom door, all tension wound tight and clenched fists and ready to unleash a barrage of abuse at him. His uncle Wayne would step quietly into his room, would gather him up and hold him tight, would talk to him quietly about everything and nothing all at once until Eddie drifted peacefully back to sleep.

As the minutes tick by, Eddie starts to talk.

“I don’t know much about cats, but yours is pretty clever,” he murmurs, rubbing circles across Steve’s broad back, over the soft yellow sweater he was wearing. “He came right up to me, no idea why he picked me out of a crowd of nice old ladies at the market, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer, he insisted on getting me to you. I guess that’s his job, right? Just like how some service dogs are trained to go and get someone if their owner is in trouble? I used to have this neighbour, this girl called Max, she had some disabilities after a car accident, and she had a dog who was trained to do that sort of stuff. But you’ve got Frodo.”

Steve’s breathing is evening out, his shoulders untensing slightly as Eddie speaks.

“Badass name, by the way,” Eddie continues, chuckling a little. “I’m guessing you’re a Lord of the Rings fan, then. So am I. In fact, it’s probably my favourite -”

“Not a fan,” Steve mumbles.

Eddie pauses mid-sentence. “…oh,” he finishes lamely.

Steve shifts a little, the tiniest smile twitching at his lips.

Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest at the sight of it.

“This kid I used to babysit, his name’s Dustin, he picked the name,” Steve clarifies, his voice a little clearer now, a little less forced. “It just kinda stuck.”

“It suits him,” Eddie assures him, reaching a hand out to the cat. He quickly snatches it back, remembers Max telling him over and over that you weren’t supposed to pat a service animal when they’re working. “Sorry,” he says quickly, “I didn’t mean to…well. He’s working.”

Steve smiles, wider now.

Eddie blinks slowly at him, feeling stupid and warm and weak for this man.

“You can pat him,” Steve says quietly, just above a whisper. He unfolds his legs, loosens his grip on Frodo just a little, giving Eddie room to reach across to the cat.

Eddie grins as his fingers find soft fur. He traces over Frodo’s head and the cat purrs louder, pressing back into his hand.

Steve watches, tears drying on his cheeks. He lifts his glasses, rubs at his eyes, then straightens them again.

“It was the sirens,” he says, a little choked up still.

Eddie nods slowly, continues to pat Frodo.

“Over on Main Street, I think, I was walking past and they were really loud, and then more and more started and then there was that fire engine too and all the flashing lights and…”

Eddie heard it earlier, too. Some crash near the park, the ladies at the market had gossiped amongst themselves.

“…and I tried to move away, but they were everywhere so I went into the trees and that was a little better but I could still hear them, and I know it’s fucking stupid but some stuff happened to me a few years back and now every time I hear them…” Steve trails off, snaps his mouth shut. Runs his hand rhythmically down Frodo’s back, almost meditatively now. “Sorry. S’dumb. But…I’m ok now, I think.”

Eddie splays his free hand across Steve’s back. Thinks about how much he’d like to pull Steve to his side, bundle him close, wrap himself around him…but they’ve only just fucking met.

He needs to calm down.

“It isn’t dumb,” Eddie insists gently, “I used to get them too. Panic attacks. I get it, ok? I’m just glad you’re ok now.”

Steve smiles at him, wobbly and weak but there.

“Thanks,” he says softly, “for following Frodo. And for…staying.”

Eddie returns his smile. Reaches for the man’s hand, clasps it, helps him to shaky feet.

Steve doesn’t let go of his hand.

They linger there, under the shade of the red maple trees, neither saying anything for a long moment.

Frodo sits at their feet. Blinks up at them, meows eventually.

Steve picks up Frodo’s lead, one hand still in Eddie’s, fiddles with the red canvas cord.

Eddie’s heart beats faster.

“Do you…wanna come and look around the stalls?” he asks quietly, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not held securely in Steve’s, thinks he’d be happy if he could never use that hand again, so long as Steve kept a hold of it.

Steve smiles again, bright as the sun, and nods.

Slowly, he follows Eddie out of the clearing and back into the light of the day.

___

[redrose10]

I hope everyone likes it and thank you for your patience!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Snake Hybrid Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, euthanasia, doctors office and sickness, mentions of mating/breeding but no smut, abandonment

Word Count: 6,432

Yoongi stared out of the passenger window watching an unfamiliar world roll by him.

“She’s a really good person, trust me. She’ll take good care of you and she won’t hurt you.”, Taehyung spoke from the drivers seat trying to calm his friend’s nerves.

“You said she was scared of snakes. I give it twenty four hours before I’m back at the adoption agency because she was too scared to have me in her house.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Yoongi was adopted and then swiftly returned.

The first time was when he was in his early teens. He had just been put up for adoption for the first time. It didn’t take long for someone to come in and show interest in him, a young mother had adopted him as a companion for her two kids thinking she was being a cool mom by getting them a snake hybrid instead of the usual dog, cat, or bunny ones.

Yoongi arrived to their home happy and ready to be there for the kids in any way he could only for them to scream and run in fear as soon as they saw the snake hybrid. He was returned first thing the next day after spending the night locked up and alone in the garage.

Then shortly after, he was adopted by some guy. They had an alright relationship for a few months until his new girlfriend came over. She took one look at Yoongi and gave the ultimatum of her or the hybrid. The guy chose her and Yoongi was dumped on the side of the road several days later.

Yoongi never had a real home even before those events. After being bred in a lab as part of an experiment he was used for research for many years. Kept in a room that was too small and not nearly warm enough. Fed barely enough to keep him alive. Poked and prodded for hours on end and threatened with euthanasia if he dared to act with aggression.

Then a couple weeks ago he overheard the director of the shelter he was currently being housed in. The guy made it clear that he was tired of wasting money and resources on an adult snake hybrid that no one was ever going to adopt. One of the volunteers at the shelter, Taehyung, begged and pleaded with the owner to give him more time to find a home for Yoongi. Taehyung had become somewhat fond of the stoic hybrid, but unfortunately didn’t have the time, space, or money to adopt him his-self. Ultimately the owner gave him two weeks to find a permanent home or it was the end of the line for him.

And that’s how Yoongi found himself in the passenger seat of Taehyung’s car on his way to meet some woman who he overheard is terrified of snakes yet for some strange reason agreed to adopt someone who has half the DNA of one.

You paced around your house trying to busy yourself and avoid the feeling of dread that was building up as you knew Taehyung was getting closer. You really regretted agreeing to adopt a snake hybrid. Ever since you were a small child you have been terrified of snakes. Even the sight of one could bring you to tears. You didn’t have much experience with snake hybrids either since they were pretty rare to begin with and you definitely never went out of your way to meet one but you imagined you wouldn’t like a hybrid anymore than a a pure snake.

Taehyung knew this. He also always said you had a heart of gold which he used to his advantage when he gave you a whole sob story about Yoongi’s life and everything he had been through. You did feel bad for him and genuinely did want him to have a good home. You just wished his new home was going to be on a luxurious island while he was being pampered and that it wasn’t going to be with you.

Taehyung had assured you that you wouldn’t even know Yoongi was half snake. He said he was calm, quiet, kept to himself. He ate normal food just like any person.

You cringed at remembrance of the awkward moment with you asking if you were going to have to store a bunch of dead mice in your freezer but he assured you with a smile that Yoongi would be happy to eat whatever you were but if you wanted to do something extra special then get him some tangerines as a treat. They were one of his favorites but gave him stomach aches so he couldn’t have them often.

There was also the issue of your cat, Alice. You felt bad for even thinking about it but you were genuinely concerned with having a snake hybrid under the same roof as a house cat. But again you were informed that it wouldn’t be an issue and that Yoongi actually loved cats even if he would never admit it. One of his best friends growing up was a cat hybrid named Jimin.

After a couple days of thought you finally agreed to let Yoongi stay with you. But you were severely second guessing that decision as you heard a car pull into your driveway. Your anxiety immediately sky rocketing.

Taehyung entered your home and quickly swallowed you in a big hug as he usually did.

“Y/N, this is Yoongi. Yoongi this is Y/N.”, he said getting right to business seemingly a little short on time.

At first glance you really couldn’t tell he was part snake at all. He was slightly shorter than Taehyung and only a little taller than you. His reddish orange hair really stood out as a surprise. You don’t know why you imagined him with jet black or maybe even green hair but then you remembered from the info packet you were sent that he was a corn snake and from the little bit of research you did before your fears got the best of you too much you remembered the colors of a standard corn snake and it made sense after all.

His eyes were a deep brown and didn’t appear snake like as you had imagined…one of your biggest worries. Something about their eyes was always so unsettling to you. You didn’t really see any terrifying fangs or a forked tongue. He had a cute button nose. No scales that you could see but Taehyung did mention he had some small scales sprinkled around his body. When you cringed Taehyung was quick to inform you they looked more like a cool tattoo than actual scales so you wouldn’t freak out if you ever were to see them. After all this Yoongi looked like any average guy about your age. You dared to even say he was attractive.

“Hi. Nice to meet you.”, you whispered.

“Yeah you too.”, Yoongi nodded feeling uncomfortable with how uncomfortable he could tell you felt.

Taehyung quickly said goodbye mumbling something about traffic and the rain and a hard ass boss so he left rather quickly even though internally you were pleading with him to not leave you alone.

“Umm so I guess I can show you to your room.”, you said wanting to escape the awkward silence.

Taking him upstairs you swung open the door making room for Yoongi to follow in after you.

“I’m sorry it’s not much. But I got you a bed and there’s a desk over here. Taehyung said you like to write so I got you a few new notebooks and some fancy pens. And uh maybe we can get you a tv or something but in the mean time you’re welcome to watch tv downstairs whenever you want.”

Yoongi looked around the room. He had never had his own bedroom before. The most he ever got was a corner of the basement and if he was lucky they might hook up a heat lamp for him. This was incredible and he didn’t really know how to respond but he also knew there was no way he was going to trust you even with all of this. Especially when he could sense how terrified you were just from standing next to him.

“Okay well I’m gonna go cook dinner. Um let me know if you need anything.”, you said before quickly exiting the room.

Yoongi waited all night and all of the next day to hear the familiar words he dreaded but had gotten so used to. Then one day turned into two and then into a week and then into three weeks and so on. You never mentioned anything about kicking him out or taking him back to the shelter. You offered him several meals a day even though he politely declined not needing to eat as much as you. When he did eat he preferred to do it privately and he appreciated that you respected his space. He kept to himself most of the time. He didn’t want to do anything to upset you and cause you to send him back. He could still feel the tension radiating off of you any time he did walk into the same room.

You were starting to feel terrible that you were still so scared of him. He had done nothing to make you think he was any kind of a threat other than the dna that created him which he had zero control over.

He was polite. He cleaned up after himself. He even took on some chores around the house like vacuuming and cleaning the litter box, two of your least favorite things to do.

You smiled as you remembered the day you came home to find him frantically tearing apart your house. Your blood pressure rose slightly worried that this was him beginning to act out until he dropped to his hands and knees to search for something under the couch. “Here kitty kitty kitty.”, he said shaking the treat bag.

When you finally asked what was wrong, it turned out that he couldn’t find Alice for their daily nap session so he was worried she had escaped when he took the trash out earlier. He had been looking all over for her. Your fear subsided and was replaced with admiration at the panic he was going through over the thought of loosing your cat who had since become his cat too. You were able to calm him down and show him her usual hiding spot in your closet where thankfully she was peacefully curled up in ball oblivious to the hysteria she caused him. He scooped her up mumbling something about never scaring him like that again and that now he needed double the nap time just to calm his nerves.

It warmed your heart however you still couldn’t shake the constant reminder that there was a snake in your presence.

Likewise Yoongi, while slowly warming up to you, was still waiting for those words. Every night when he crawled into his big fluffy bed that was in his slightly too cold room that he was too afraid to tell you about he wondered if the following day would be the day it all ends.

He really liked living with you. You left him to do his own thing most of the time. You gave him more food than he could eat. You even went out of your way to buy him a birthday cake when he said he had never had one. His birthday wasn’t for another six months but he ate the cake happily not wanting to let you know he thought it was disgustingly sweet and he hoped you would ever find out that it made him sick later that night.

You purchased him a bunch of new clothing when you noticed he wore the same two outfits over and over. He didn’t want to know how much you spent because it would only make him feel guiltier. He didn’t think he deserved it.

You even drove him an hour across the city so he could hang out with Jimin for a while. He didn’t expect you to and he was shocked that you did, especially when he could sense your unease from being so close to him through the whole car ride.

Yoongi did have to admit he was a tiny bit jealous when you welcomed Jimin into a hug with open arms, not that he was really a hugger himself to begin with. But watching you be so relaxed around Jimin as you scratched his fluffy cat ears and giggled when he used his tail to tickle your nose made Yoongi feel a tinge of hurt. No one ever wanted to cuddle with a snake.

He could tell that you were slowly warming up to him but you were still cautious thanks to his dna. He wished more than ever that he could be cute and fluffy like Jimin, maybe then his life would’ve been much easier.

When the two of you returned home that evening he decided that he was going to attempt to cuddle. He had never done it before but watching you cuddle Jimin made him long for that comforting touch.

So he waited until he smelled the popcorn and he heard the television click on. He waited a few minutes to not make it super obvious that he had been waiting for this moment. Then he took a deep breath and shoved his shaking hands into his pockets so you wouldn’t see them and went downstairs to where you were located.

“What’s up?”, you asked after noticing him awkwardly standing in the doorway.

He shrugged, “Nothin, just thought I’d come watch a little tv.”

He sat on the couch next to you but made sure there was enough space that you weren’t touching so not exactly cuddling.

You were scrolling through the movie options when came across the Harry Potter films.

You were completely shocked when Yoongi said that he had never seen any of the movies so you excitedly hit play and handed him the bowl of popcorn to get a handful.

As the movie went on and you really got into it Yoongi started feeling his confidence increase. Slowly but steadily he started inching closer and closer to you until his body was just mere centimeters from yours.

Then he heard the gasp. He panicked thinking maybe you were freaked out that he was so close to you and he instantly regretted everything. He tried to scoot away but you grasped onto him burying your cheek into his shoulder. You kept your head swiveling between looking at the tv and looking at his neck. Your hands had instinctively grabbed onto his and you were fiddling with his fingers. He could sense that your heart rate had significantly increased from the few minutes before.

When he looked up at the screen he saw what was the cause of all of this. Harry Potter was talking to a very large Burmese Python. Then the glass was gone and the snake started slithering out of its cage and onto the ground as people screamed in fear. Yoongi could feel you tensing up as you squeeze his hand a little tighter.

Once the scene was over and the snake was no longer on the screen he waited for you to release him but you never did, instead you snuggled in a little closer and took some of your blanket placing it on his lap so he settled into the couch and tried to take in every single moment of his first ever cuddle session.

When the movie ended and you finally released your grip on him shyly admitting that you hadn’t planned on that Yoongi started to laugh. He realized something he hadn’t before.

“What is so funny?”, you asked amused.

“Nothing…nothing.”, he said unsure if he should bring it up.

“Seriously Yoongi. What is so funny?”

“Well I just realized something. Y-You got scared about the snake in the movie. And then spent the rest of the movie cuddle up to a…a…a snake hybrid. I just thought that was kind of funny.”

You thought about his words for a moment before chuckling yourself, “Yeah I guess I’m lucky you’re just so cute and cuddly.”

Your eyes widened and before he could respond you quickly grabbed your things and headed up stairs feeling overwhelmed with embarrassment.

Yoongi sat there for a moment basking in your words. In his life he had been called many many things but cute and/or cuddly we’re not it and it was you of all people to say those words. He loved it but it also terrified him in ways he never felt before.

Ever since your little cuddle session things were kind of awkward between you. You were stuck between really really liking him and wanting to spend every minute of the day next to him but no matter how hard you tried you still had it in the back of your mind that he was part snake and that you weren’t sure if you should have those kind of feelings towards him. And Yoongi was stuck between realizing he was falling in love with you and not wanting to get hurt because he knew you would never ever feel like that towards him. So he started distancing himself from you.

He had been doing his best to be as easy and simple to live with as possible. He didn’t tell you about how his room was a little too cold or how he had a little rash from the lack of humidity in his room. He didn’t tell you how all of the onions you always cooked with gave him heartburn. He was too afraid to anger you in some way for fear that you would return him.

But then one morning he woke up with a little issue that was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Ever since the first child ran in fear when they saw him, Yoongi begged the shelter director for contacts. He said they would help him get adopted. He had always worn glasses to help with his poor eyesight but he wanted the contacts to help conceal the snake like quality of his eyes. His red irises and large black pupils often made people look away in fear or uncomfortableness but with the contacts he looked human. His intimidating eyes replaced with soft brown ones that looked warm and welcoming instead.

He had been down to two pairs and since the director made it clear that he was no longer spending any money on him he was too afraid to ask for more.

So for the last couple of months he had been wearing the same pair 24/7 and much past their expiration date too nervous of what you would think of him if you saw his true form.

The thought of you running in fear made his heart hurt just a little bit more than he’d like so he wore the contacts even at night just in case.

Then this morning he woke up with swollen eyes that were bright red and hard to keep open. Every time he blinked it felt like he was being stabbed with a burning hot knife. The fear of permanently going blind started creeping into his mind.

To make things worse he could hear you calling his name from downstairs. Reluctantly he went to find you.

“Hey I’m going to the grocery store and just wanted know if there was anything you neeeedd…Oh my God!! Yoongi are you okay? What’s wrong?”, you said quickly walking over to him to get a closer look.

“Yeah yeah I’m fine. Just some allergies or something. You know Alice practically sleeps on my face all night.”, he chuckled.

“Um I think maybe I should take you to a doctor just to be safe. This looks worse than allergies.” Yoongi tried to protest but you were already on the phone calling the first office that Google provided. Thankfully they had an opening later that same afternoon.

“Nervous?”, you asked noticing his leg bouncing up and down for the last several minutes.

“Yeah I uh I don’t do well at doctors.”, he said which wasn’t completely a lie. He had spent the first half of his life being treated poorly by people in white coats so he grew to be uneasy around them, this time though he was more nervous about what the outcome would be once you saw his true form.

“Min Yoongi.”, the assistant shouted into the crowded waiting room.

“Need me to go with you or are you okay by yourself?”, you asked.

Yoongi had never even thought about that and suddenly he felt a huge sense of relief, “I can go in alone. It’s no big de-.”

But he was cut off by the same assistant, “She’ll have to come back with you. Sorry it’s a requirement for all first time patients.”

Yoongi and you both nodded and followed her back into one of the exam rooms.

“The doctor will be right in.”, she smiled before closing the door.

Taking in the view of the room you started to worry that maybe you accidentally booked a pediatric hybrid doctor. The room was decorated with brightly colored music notes and cute drawings of different animals. One of those motivational posters with a picture of a cat hung on the opposite wall. You were about to pull out your phone to double check when the door swung open, “Good afternoon. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. My name is Dr. Hoseok Jung but you can call be Dr. J, Doc, Hobi, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He walked in not looking like any doctor you’ve ever seen before. He was wearing jeans with neon paint splashes on them paired with matching neon Jordan’s and a tshirt you were pretty sure was from Gucci. No white coat and the only indication of who he was being the name tag he wore clipped to his shirt. He had a big bright smile as he shook your hand. You caught yourself wondering if he accepted human patients too because he seemed so bright and bubbly.

“You must be Y/N and you must be Yoongi! So, what brings you in today?”, he said clasping his hands together.

Yoongi too shy to speak looked to you for help.

“Oh uh well he woke up today with his eyes pretty irritated. He says it’s allergies but I just want to make sure it’s nothing serious.”

Hoseok studied Yoongi for a moment, “Hmm yeah I can see that. Well first I have some quick standard questions to go through. I just want to see if anything stands out as unusual or anything. Yoongi you’ll probably have to answer most of these yourself.”

He started typing away on his laptop before he paused to look at Yoongi, “Alright so just to confirm you are 31 years old, a male, and a corn snake hybrid. Is that correct?”

“Yes that’s correct.”

“Perfect! And how long have you lived with Y/N?”

“Probably like ten-ish months now.”

“Good…good.”

“Eating okay? Sleeping okay? Enough energy to get through the day?”

“Yeah yeah everything is fine.”

“Alright and no aches or pains other than your eyes?”

For a moment Yoongi thought about bringing up the painful rash he had since the humidity in his room wasnt right but he didn’t want to irritate you or scare you any more than you already were going to be so he decided against it?

“No, just my eyes.”

“Well that’s good. And lastly how is your libido?”

Your eyes widened and Yoongi nearly choked on his spit, “I’m sorry what?”

Hobi smiled unfazed and clearly used to getting that kind of a reaction. He continued, “You know your sex drive…your want to mate…your desire to breed? Would you say it’s below, above, or just about average?“

“I uh I um uh I…average I guess.”, he mumbled. His poor cheeks were nearly as red as his hair and you felt so bad but couldn’t get over how cute he looked like that. And then the doctor asked a question that embarrassed you just as much.

He was typing away on his laptop, “Mmhmm. Mmhm, that’s good. One more super duper awkward question and then we’re done. Do you notice an increase in your sexual desires when you spend time around an ovulating female?”

You kept your eyes focused on the silly cat poster in front of you not wanting to make this any more uncomfortable than it already was by looking in Yoongi’s direction.

You didn’t hear him verbally respond but the doctor must have gotten the answer he needed because he closed his laptop and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. Your cheeks felt hot and were probably just as red as Yoongi but thankfully no one mentioned it.

Okay this might hurt for a bit but I want to get a better look.”, he said pulling out a small flash light and shining it into Yoongi’s eyes while he gently tried to pry them open.

You felt awful watching him flinch in pain.

“Yoongi when was the last time you removed these contacts?”, the doctor asked.

He chewed on his lip for a second trying to buy some time, “It’s been a while. A couple months at least. I used to take them out for a little here and there but I’ve been keeping them in all the time lately.”

“I see…and are they colored contacts?”

He simply nodded.

The doctor was slowly piecing everything together as he started washing his hands again before reaching for a pair of gloves.

“Unfortunately they need to come out. You have quite a nasty infection going on.”

Curiously you watched on as the doctor put a few drops into Yoongi’s eyes to help them relax a little so he could get out the contacts. Hobi helped him wipe his eyes and then added a few more drops to give some additional relief.

Yoongi blinked a few times before trying to look anywhere but at you.

“I’m going to put a little of this gel in your eyes. We’ll give you a prescription to take home along with some eyes drops. Y/N, if you want to come over here I can show you how to apply the gel. He’ll probably need help with it.”

You nodded before taking a few steps over and stopping in your tracks. It was the first time you had seen his natural eyes. Gone were the soft brown eyes that you had slowly come to know and fell for. They were replaced with red iris’s surrounding large black pupils, the irritation only making them more prominent. There was definitely something snake like about them yet they were beautifully unique. You were a little taken back but you reminded yourself who you were looking at and his eyes didn’t change who he was.

And even though your brain was trying to admire them your body had other plan and Yoongi definitely took notice.

The way you moved to stand behind the doctor as a way of protecting yourself.

Your feet slightly turned and pointed towards the door like you were ready to escape.

He could sense your blood pressure had risen.

His worst fear had come true. But not only were you scared of his true form and he would most likely be heading back to the shelter, he also felt his heart breaking because he knew he was going to be going the rest of his life knowing he loved you and you only saw him as a monster.

The doctor showed you how to apply the gel and he gave you a couple bottles of drops. Yoongi was going to have to wear his glasses for a few weeks until his eyes cleared up and then you could take him to order some new contacts. He even gave Yoongi a bottle of medicated lotion “just in case” any skin issues were to come up and he gave you a pamphlet on how to properly care for a snake hybrid which you appreciated.

The drive home was silent. Yoongi declined your offer of dinner even through you suggested his favorite chicken place. You assumed it was probably because he was still embarrassed about all of the questions earlier so you didn’t pressure him and went home instead.

Yoongi spent the rest of the day locked in his room while you read through the info packet from the doctor. By the time you were done you felt like a horrible irresponsible person. You had thought you did enough research but you were really mistaken. Poor Yoongi was probably freezing and no wonder the doctor gave him a special lotion. The doctor had seen this before so he knew that his room wasn’t providing what he needed and was going to cause him issues.

So bright and early the next morning you headed out with a list of things to purchase to try and make Yoongi’s room more comfortable for him.

At the same time Yoongi was already up and packing. He only packed up the clothes he had arrived with not wanting to take anything you bought for him other than a couple pairs of socks that were really soft and fuzzy, he hoped you wouldn’t mind.

He also grabbed the stuffed mouse you had won him in one of those claw machines at an arcade. It had a pink bow and you had named her Petunia. He found himself holding onto the little mouse at night and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without it.

He realized that it was getting quite late and that you were nowhere to be found. He searched the house and started wondering if maybe you were so scared you couldn’t even spend the night under the same roof as him.

Right as he was about to grab his bag and just leave on his own he heard the door open and you come barreling in. He could hear the crinkle of bags and boxes banging against the wall. You were clearly talking on the phone.

“Yeah I know Tae, thanks for telling me by the way…

Of course it was a mistake!…

I’m terrified! What if something happened?…

Okay yeah but still…

Well I’m just saying that it was something you probably should’ve brought to my attention when you asked me about adopting him…

I was so stressed all night. I left as soon as I got up this morning…

No way! I’m not doing that any more…

I’m gonna fix it right now actually. I just got home…

Okay bye…”

Yoongi could feel the familiar sensation of tears beginning to cloud his eyes although this time it hurt more than usual. Whether it was because his eyes were already irritated or because he knew this was his last chance or because he really liked you and didn’t want to leave…he wasn’t sure, maybe it was a little of all three.

He tried to compose himself sensing your footsteps coming towards his room but you were quicker than he was. He already had his coat on when you knocked, “Hey mind if I come in so we can talk?”

Yoongi nodded his head.

You took a seat at his desk and turned to look at him.

“Wow your eyes already look a little better…Wait! Are…are you crying? What’s wrong?”, you asked rolling the chair closer to him.

“Nothin, what time are we leaving?”

“Leaving? What do you mean?”

Yoongi scoffed, “You’re taking me back to the shelter aren’t you? I heard you talking to Taehyung.”

You felt your heart drop and your own eyes started filling with tears. You should’ve been more careful knowing everything that he had been through and that he could hear exceptionally well especially through the thin walls.

“Yoongi no no no. I’m not taking you back to the shelter. Quite the opposite really.”

“But…but you’re terrified of me. My real eyes make you uncomfortable. I can tell and you shouldn’t have to be scared in your own home. I heard you talking to Taehyung.”, he sniffled, “It’s fine. I’m used to not being wanted so you can just drop me off at the shelter or I can walk. I don’t mind.”

You watched him gently wipe away the wet streaks on his cheeks. “Oh Yoongi…”, you said moving over to the bed and wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him tight, “I’m sorry that I made you feel like that but you are wanted. I do want you Yoongi.”

He started crying even harder into your shoulder. His body convulsing with sobs as you tried to sooth him through your own tears.

After a few minutes he began settling down so you took his hand in yours.

“Yoongi I…I know I’ve put a big emphasis on the snake part of you but honestly I stopped caring about that a long time ago. I just didn’t realize it until recently. I like you Min Yoongi. I…I uh I might even love you. I’m sorry that I didn’t do enough to make you feel welcomed here.”

He sniffled, “But what about the stuff on the phone?”

“The stuff I said to Tae was about how I didn’t know that your room needed to be a certain temperature with specific humidity levels and I feel terrible that you’ve been suffering all this time. I was mad at him for not warning me and mad at myself for not being brave enough to do the research I should’ve have before you moved in. I’m sorry Yoongi. But if you want to stay here then I want you here too.”

His face was still buried in your neck but you could feel him nod his head bringing a smile to your face.

After you gave him some time to calm down you asked him to help carry everything you had bought upstairs to his room.

When you were all done setting everything up he had a brand new heated blanket that had several different settings, a new humidifier, and a space heater for when he needed a little extra warmth. You had an electrician coming in the following week to see about the options for installing a heat lamp or something similar onto the ceiling so that he could feel the warmth directly on himself much like a snake would do. You had also picked up some vitamins and a special body wash to help with his skin.

Which reminded you, “Oh! We should put your drops in. Dr. Jung said it was important not to miss a dose.”

Yoongi shook his head, “It’s okay. I can do it myself.”

“I know you can but if I help you it’ll be faster and more precise.”

Yoongi was hesitant but let you take him to the bathroom where all of the products were located.

He sat down on the floor with you on the edge of the tub as you fidgeted trying to get the bottle open.

You put one drop in each eye and told him to keep them closed before the second round.

“Once your eyes clear up we can go order you some new contacts if you want. You can get the clear one or colored ones. It’s up to you. But you don’t have to wear them all the time you know. If your glasses are more comfortable you should wear them, especially at home.”

“I don’t want you or anyone else to be scared.”, he whispered.

“Who cares what other people think. Their opinions don’t matter and I’m not scared of you Yoongi. Besides, I think you look really cute in those glasses.”

You smiled as you watched the blush crawl across his cheeks, “What else about me is cute?”, he playfully asked.

You added the second round of drops, “Well I think it’s cute how you try to hide the way you say your S’s so they don’t sound so snake like. And I think it’s cute how you do a little happy dance every time I stock the freezer with cookie dough ice cream. And I think it’s cute how you have the chubbiest little cheeks.”

You tried to give them a squeeze but he quickly swatted your hand away, “they’re not chubby.”, he pouted which only proved your point more.

After getting cleaned up you both plopped down on the couch ready for another movie night. Alice also joined this time, quickly taking her favorite spot in the center of Yoongi’s lap. You had already accepted that she was now his cat and you were merely the food bringer homer. But you didn’t really care. They were both happy which made you happy.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you had no problem cuddling in as close as you could get.

“Hey Y/N.”, he suddenly spoke as you were scrolling through the movie options. You lifted your head to look up at him.

“ Th-Thank you…for everything.”, he smiled feeling like he had a true home for the first time in his life and it just happened the be with the woman he loved, “I just wanted to make sure I told you that. I don’t think I’ve really said it since I’ve been here.”

“Don’t thank me. You deserve it. I’m just happy you’re here.”, you said before giving his cheek a kiss and snuggling back in to his side.

“Ohhh what about this one?”, you exclaimed.

Yoongi looked at the screen and then at you with his eyebrows raised, “Snakes on a plane? Seriously Y/N? That sounds like a terrible idea.”

You shrugged, “Yeah you’re right. I’ll probably get too scared and have to find someone to cuddle with the whole time and then I know I’ll definitely be too scared to sleep later so I will for sure need to find someone to cuddle with and keep me safe all night.”

You started scrolling again but it didn’t take long for laughter to fill the room as Yoongi took the remote from you and quickly scrolled back to the movie. He hit play and settled back in before pulling you close against him and placing a small kiss to the top of your head, “Luckily I’m here to cuddle any time you need it.”

@illnevertrustmyselfagain

[clockwayswrites]

Minx Part 2

Minx is a placeholder name, maybe Part 1, Masterpost CW: references to drug use, allusions to past torture, grabbing

Jason had to suck in several careful breaths as he took in the wound splashed across Danny’s ribs. “No fucking John did that to you and if they did—” if they took some sort of hot poker to Danny’s side— “I’ll kill them if they did.”

Danny blinked up at the ceiling, avoiding Jason’s gaze. “So the John thing may be a cover story?”

“Fuck’n—” Jason clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to work out the urge to punch someone. It wouldn’t do any good with no target to punch. Jason had kept an eye on Danny, best as he could without being invasive, and the other seemed clean of Gotham’s shit. “What are you messed up in Danny? Is it someone’s business? Did you see something you shouldn’t on the job? Hear something?”

“No— I mean, yeah I’ve heard things, but nothing to do with this. This is,” Danny’s hand moved to cover up the mark, as if hiding it would make the problem go away. “This is just some shit from my past catching up with me. It’s nothing you need to worry about, Boss, it’s not Gotham business.”

Jason held back a growl, pushed it back into his chest. “Did it happen in Gotham?”

“No, it happened down in sunny Florida— of course it happened in Gotham.”

“Then it’s fucking Gotham business.”

“Yeah, fuck it is, you stay away from it,” Danny snapped with a smile like a bear trap. He got up and grabbed his shirt with a waver. “Dealt with it anyway. It’s done and—”

Danny froze as Jason reached out to grab his arm.

“Danny—”

“You let go of me, Hood. I don’t care who the fuck you are, you do not grab me like this. No one grabs me like this.”

Jason slowly, carefully, lowered his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to fall over but I shouldn’t have stopped you like that.”

“You fuck’n shouldn’t have.”

“I shouldn’t have,” Jason soothed. He wasn’t good at soothing, not any more, but he would try if it would stop Danny walking out of there injured like that. “Just sit back down and let me treat the wound. I’ll stop asking questions.”

Danny sized him up, eyes sharp with the perfect winged liner. Then he sighed and sat back down.

“Thank you,” Jason murmured as he rummaged around in the well stocked first aid kit for something to treat burn wounds. “How bad is the pain.”

Danny shrugged. He had his chin on his hand and was purposefully not looking at Jason.

Guess he was still in the dog house then.

“This will help the topical pain, but I know burns hurt deep. I’d like to give you something. Have you been drinking tonight?”

“You found me outside a pub,” Danny answered dryly.

“Doesn’t mean you were drinking, Danny, I know you know how to fake it.”

Danny sighed and tilted his head to glance up at Jason. He looked tired now, like the glamor had finally worn off with the stroke of midnight.

“Yeah, I was drinking. Helps with the pain and I knew I could take those shits drunk off my fake tits.”

“Bet you could,” Jason said, allowing himself a little smirk behind his helmet. He’s seen Danny play pool before and it was a thing of wounder. “Okay, we’ll do an IV then, rehydrate you and get some pain medication in your system in one go.”

“IV?” Danny repeated, his voice small.

“It won’t hurt, I can put them in smoothly,” Jason said as he started to work on treating the wound.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re real gently like,” there was a wobble under Danny’s bravado and twang, “but I’m not much fond of needles.”

“I’ll be here. I won’t leave you alone with it in.”

Danny snorted. “Yeah, gonna hold me the whole night so I don’t panic?”

“If that’s what will help,” Jason answered without hesitation. He could feel Danny watching him, judging him for that statement, but Jason just kept carefully working on the wound.

“Don’t be stupid, you can’t wear your helmet the whole night,” Danny said as if that would be the catch.

“Then I’ll take it off before I hold you the whole night so that you don’t panic.”

“Will you?”

“Said I would, didn’t I?”

Jason smoothed on the last of the gel.

“Yeah… okay,” Danny said with a tired sigh. “Okay, let’s try the IV.”

-

Jason sat with his back against the arm of the couch and the pillow propped there. One leg was against the back cushion and the other on the ground still. Danny, make-up washed off and dressed in a set Tim sized sweats, was tucked back against Jason’s chest.

It was easier to sit that way than take Danny staring at his face covered only in a domino and black hair spray on the white streak.

Jason gently ran an alcohol wipe over the inside of Danny’s arm.

And froze.

“Not what you think.” Danny’s voice sounded small and far away. “Hood, breathe.”

Jason sucked an unsteady breath. “What?”

“I said it’s not what you think. I’m not using. I was… sickly, when I was a teen. It’s— that’s why I don’t like IVs and needles and stuff.”

“Promise?”

“And cross my heart,” Danny said, going through the motion. “Girl Scout’s honor.”

Jason barked out a laugh that was still a little too sharp. “Yeah and I was a Boy Scout.”

“I don’t you, you do a lot of community service,” Danny said, draping his head back over Jason’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I work with different birds than eagles.”

Danny’s nose scrunched up.

Jason liked it better when he could see Danny’s pale freckles.

“Eagle Scouts are the highest level of Boy Scouts,” Jason explained.

“Why the fuck do you even know that?”

“I know a lot of shit,” Jason said.

Danny flinched at the pinch of the needle, but Jason had a good grip on Danny’s arm and was able to get the IV in fully. Jason soothed his thumb over it after he taped the IV down.

“There you are.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” Jason promised. “I’m right here.”

[morverenmaybewrites]

Lessons on Love | Jason Todd x Reader

What lesson about love are they still trying to learn?

Asked by @/citrussaurus

Literally everything. 

I think that Jason’s experiences have shaped him into someone who has quite an unhealthy view on love and relationships: the lack of a positive example of a healthy relationship during his childhood years, the confusing (but not entirely loveless) relationship he had with Bruce Wayne, and eventually his years of rage and isolation as the Arkham Knight. 

By the time post-Arkham Knight rolls around, Jason has a deeply unhealthy view on love and relationships.

And yet, despite this, I feel like he craves this. More than that he’s starved for it. 

I think a part of him hopelessly, desperately wants to be held dear. He wants a place to belong, someone to belong to. 

And it’s his great tragedy that he doesn’t know how to ask for it and more importantly, he doesn’t know how to receive it. Sometimes, Jason loves so quietly that it’s hard to see it as love –because God knows that no one in his life ever taught him to properly communicate. 

I picture the way Jason seeks affection like a starved street dog: there’s a hunger to it, a thirst.

(After all, if you have spent your whole life being starved of something, isn’t it only natural to seek it out, even if it’s just the bare scraps? And here you are, willing to give him your whole heart.)

But there’s also a sort of tension, then animal instinct to flee after being kicked more than several times for it.

I picture him as always perched at the edge of things: waiting, waiting for the inevitable moment where the rug is pulled out from under him, when the affection you had always so freely given will suddenly be withheld, and he will be left starving again, a hole at the center of him that he has no idea how to fill.

(But oh you are worth the fall.)

But I always think of him as physically perched on things, especially on the early days of your relationship: the edge of towering skyscrapers, hovering in your doorway just barely stepping into your threshold until you finally have to ask him to come in, your windowsill, just barely keeping himself out of the rain. He’ll try to act relaxed, but really, he’s tense as a bird about to take flight. Always, always prepared for the moment where he’ll be asked to leave.

(And yet, and yet, all he wants is that you ask him to stay.) 

He doesn’t know how to show you affection, doesn’t know how to ask for it. All he’s ever known is how to make himself useful. 

(After all, useful things don’t get thrown away. Useful things don’t get asked to leave.) 

He’ll keep you safe, which in Gotham City is no small feat, keep the villains away from your door: from the small-time crooks who target regular civilians for just that extra bit of cash to the supervillains whose plans would likely involve you (and the rest of Gotham City) as collateral.

And at first, it’s eerie: the sudden silence in your life, the feeling of peace, of being looked out for. You have never gone so long without encountering some sort of mugger or been involved in a bank robbery.

Then perhaps one day, you’ll get a text from an unknown number, asking you to stay away from Gotham Square that day. When you try to call to get more information, it comes up as Unavailable. And perhaps a week after that, you’ll get a similar text from a different, this time telling you to avoid Bleake Island.

Perhaps you solve it quickly or perhaps, not at all and it takes you a while to put together the pieces: Jason has been keeping you safe. 

And when you decide to talk to him about it, he’s cagey, almost embarrassed. He won’t deny it, but at the same time, when you try to thank him or show you appreciate him, he’ll react with confusion. 

After all, keeping his loved ones safe is second nature to him. In fact, I feel like it’s the one act of love that all of the Bats are comfortable with. 

He’ll do other things for you too. He’ll get up and make dinner after a long day, despite having just come back from a grueling mission, he does the dishes without being asked, hell, he’ll sometimes even throw in a load of laundry for you–taking a an unexpected pleasure from seeing the way your clothes are mixed in with his, the simple solid domesticity of it, at how your lives have become so intermingled that he now has to separate your socks from his. 

In short, he’ll do acts that, while on the outside seem nice, would sometimes border on servile. 

When you try to show him how much you appreciate what he does, he’ll be even more embarrassed: there’s an odd tension around his shoulders, the slightest dusting of pink on his cheeks. 

(And oh, Jason hates the way he blushes, knows the way it discolors around the brand on his cheek, the way it doesn’t redden along with the rest of his skin, but instead stands out, ghostly pale.) 

So he’ll shrug it off, barely being able to look at you. Acutely aware of how strange and monstrous he looks.

And even more so, he’s painfully aware of the reason he’s doing these things. Not only because he wants to take care of you (and he does), but because it’s the only way he knows how to be useful, how to be needed. 

How to be asked to stay.   

[hedgehog-moss]

hello & good morning/afternoon/night! feel free to ignore this ask if you don't want to or don't know how to answer. i have been following your blog for years now, i think, and i have been accompaning your life through the pictures you post. i always had similar dreams of living in a farm or just in a more "secluded" place in general - hiddem away from big cities, i mean, closest place being a small town or even village, you know - and though i have lived alone for 2 years now i have a lot of fears of living by myself in ambient where there is relatively less people (even if there are neighbors not that far away). yknow, classic fears, of being robbed, my house being broken into, etc etc. once again i know it's a different world and the probability of something like this happening is actually higher in places with a bigger populational number, but have you ever had experiences like this? have you ever felt a similar fear? i'm trying to find out if this is something i really want.

Hi ! I love that I read your message last week right after I fondly reminisced about hearing murder screams in my woods at night. I've been thinking about it and I think regardless of what statistics say, some people feel safer surrounded by people in a town while others feel safer in more secluded places—I mean there's probably a personal temperament aspect to this... I've always loved going out for walks in the middle of the night but I couldn't fully relax doing that in cities, while here I find it so relaxing. It's so dark and quiet it feels like walking at the bottom of the ocean <3 It's the closest I can get to the peaceful life of the sea cucumber. And since I'm alone in this forest and there's no one for several km around I feel like nothing bad can happen to me. But I have city friends who would never consider going for a walk with me in the woods at night.

Can't recommend having a medium-to-large dog enough! Despite his debonair manner Pandolf is a good guard dog—one time that I got to test this was when someone parked their car on the side of the road maybe 300m from my house, and stayed there for almost a week. It wasn't a camper van, just a normal car, and every time I went to see it during the day it was empty, but I saw lights in there at night. I didn't like it at all! Why park here in the middle of nowhere. Near my house. This isn't a convenient spot to fish or anything, so where are you all day...? I remember the night I noticed the light in the car from my window, and I sat in my bed like, okay, someone's over there, but even if he gets to my door I have 2 other ways to get out of the house, my nearest neighbours are like 40min away by foot through the woods, I know my woods better than this guy, I'll be fine.

It's the only time that I recall feeling a bit antsy at night—and Pandolf was very alert as a result, he could tell I was nervous and when I went to close the chicken coop in the evenings he went patrolling all over the place in a way he doesn't usually do. I have a natural talent for not doing anything about problems and hoping they'll go away on their own, but after a few days I eventually told a distant neighbour about this weird car, and he came the next evening to talk to this person—but the car left that same day. And when my neighbour came to tell me he hadn't found the car, it was already dark and he parked his car in front of my house and at first Pandolf refused to let him get out. Even though he knows this neighbour and the guy had half-opened his door and was like "Hey Pandolf it's me!", Pan just stood there growling continuously like Cujo. It was good to see that although he's a really friendly dog, if I'm freaked out he can get quite intimidating.

Other than that one weird car story I've never really felt scared being here alone at night, and I didn't worry about that before moving here either, I was impatient to go on nighttime walks in the woods, rather! But having neighbours I'm on friendly terms with that I can call for help if needed, and whose house I can reach by foot, is reassuring; so I think mostly it's a matter of finding the degree of seclusion you're comfortable with. There are all sorts of gradations between living in a big city and living like the first Desert Father :) Is there any way you could try spending some time alone in a more remote area for temporary stays, like holidays, to see if you get used to it and come to appreciate it, or if you feel safer in more populated places?

[diamondzart]

I know Toy Story 4 is not really loved by the masses, but I can’t help admitting that I’m that person who loves it just as much as the trilogy. I was really excited about it back in 2019 and even had a little bit of hyperfixation on it. I really adore the concept of lost toys who live on their own. As much as Woody’s choice in the end was unexpected, I think it opened big possibilities for post-canon ideas. Like this one! I decided to design his possible appearance after a couple of years of living outside with Bo. Description under the cut!

I noticed what was missing from those few fanarts on events after the end of Toy Story 4 that I found on the internet. Bo Peep is all so cool and fancy with her hook, raincoat and all sorts of useful thingies that she carries with her, and Woody is just clean and unscathed, as if he just yesterday got out of a dry and warm room. Naaah he wouldn’t stay like this for long 😆

Because what is lost toy’s life? Dirt, unforeseen damage and the need to periodically fight off stray animals. Moreover, we already know that Woody has a tendency to get into troubles. Moreover, he is a rag doll — that is, more than Bo is vulnerable to problems like unstable humidity, getting stuck somewhere with his limbs and getting attacked by cats / dogs / raccoons / whatever else they can encounter. He should become as hardcore as Bo after a couple of years, because otherwise there is no way to survive in this world.

The “raincoat” is of nylon, most likely cut out parts of an umbrella that someone conveniently lost in the park during stormy weather. The trick is that it’s waterproof, since when you are made out of natural fabric, it's important not to get wet as much as possible. Moreover, Woody is quite old, and he should be concerned about the condition of his fabric if he does not want to literally fall apart after a couple of years of such adventures.

The holster is used as a pocket for small things, here it’s used for matches and paper clips, which can be useful in different situations. For matches, a striking surface from a matchbox is attached to the outer side of the right boot. This will allow to quickly light a match by yanking a foot down while holding match to it and thus minimize extra full-body movements, which can be useful in an emergency situation. I think that this can be effective not only for lighting up spaces, but also for scaring away animals, especially small ones like rats.

The hook is a pencil and a fishhook with a broken tip, strapped with duct tape. Basically an analogue of Bo’s hook but made from improvised materials. As we have already seen in her example, it is an excellent utility for crossing various obstacles and, if necessary, for self-defense.

Stitches and scuffs. Both Bo Peep's arms were broken off and are taped back. That means, free living involves the regular risk of losing limbs. Even in an antique store, Woody got his foot stuck somewhere several times, which suggests that either himself or with the help of some stray animal he lost one or another limb and had to sew it back on his own or with Bo’s assistance. He will have to overcome his fear of being broken and accept this as a new part of his existence.

These were general notes on this sketch! Perhaps I will continue to develop this idea in order to find some new interesting solutions.

[blckbrrybasket]

7. “Closer”

Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

꒰Mutual Masturbation + Forbidden꒱ - 1.7k

• reader is steve’s sister, a little bit of plot, playboy magazine appearance

kinktober m.list

Steve had a habit of coming home late if he wasn’t working the same shift as Robin. If Robin wasn’t there to keep him in line he would almost alway snake last minute plans with someone. This time Robin just happened to be over at the Harrington house to wait for him. Like clockwork the phone rang and you didn’t have to pick it up to know it was Steve.

“Hey,” you remarked, staring at the wall boredly. “Hey uh I’m gonna be a little late. Lisa stopped by when I was closing up soo..” “So you’re going to go home with her?” His audacity didn’t surprise you anymore. It was well placed, truly trying to find the love of his life, though, it didn’t help that you wanted him to just give it up sometimes. 

You were tired of losing time with your brother. Footsteps caught your attention, Robin curiously standing behind you. You lowered the phone, holding it to your chest. “Steve’s going to take his time.” You rolled your eyes at your thinly veiled innuendo. Robin nodded and leaned against the wall to listen in on you and Steve.

“Take your time.” You responded into the receiver, looking at your nails. Steve certainly would, always taking what you said seriously. After humming noncommittally you hung up and turned to Robin. “It’s just us for a bit. Want to go to my room?”

You leaned back on your headboard, legs stretched out on the bed, flipping through a magazine. Robin lay sideways, head resting by your legs with her feet on the wall. “So, these tests are real?” Your eyes peered over her shoulder at the magazine that Robin was looking at.

It was some personality test in one of those teen magazines. “I wouldn’t bet on it,” you answered. Closing the magazine you held, you tossed it to the side to find another in your pile. Most of the magazines were new releases from Cosmo, Seventeen, what have you. You honestly had just dumped out your small box of magazines onto the bed.

It gave you two something to do. While on the hunt for an interesting magazine Robin joined you, flipping through them. “I don’t get why they would add tests that don’t work.” You shrugged, “They make those all the time, same with the boyfriend tests.”

Robin wrinkled her nose. “Boyfriend tests?” “Yeah, like which guy would you be best suited for based on your answers. It’s a load of bullshit, but fun to do.” Robin thought about it for a moment, settling to shrug before pulling a different looking magazine from the pile. A playboy.

She laughed, holding it up. “Did Steve’s magazine get in here?” You glanced up, cheeks flushing. “No! I look at that for like what bras I want to get and stuff…” You trailed off, reaching to grab it from her. Instead, Robin laughed and rolled away, opening it up.

“Woah,” she muttered, looking at the dog-eared page she had opened. Behind her, you groaned and clambered on top of her, magazines flying off the bed at your clumsy movements. “See? Her lingerie is cute.” You pointed at one of the girls who was almost fully bent over. Robin swallowed.

“You’d wear that?” You sighed and draped yourself over her, “Yeah. Don’t know where to buy it though.” Laying on her back, you looked over her shoulder to watch her flip through the articles to find more pictures. A familiar heartbeat of arousal began pulsing in your pussy at the all too familiar pictures. You mentally thanked the universe that she couldn’t feel it from your position of laying over her back.

You, however, could feel how she squirmed. Robin had always been attractive to you but severely off limits because of Steve. What he didn’t know didn’t hurt him though, right? You leaned down, whispering. “Are you seriously getting turned on by some half covered tits?” Robin spluttered, turning her head.

“No!” She defended herself immediately much to your amusement. “Seeing full tits is where it’s at.” You sat back as realization dawned on Robin’s features, her body turning over to look at her. “I’ve seen boobs before,” she weakly retorted.

“Sure I have too.” You paused for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. “I can show you mine. Tits are better in person.” Her eyes immediately dropped to your chest, gulping. “What about Steve?”

“What about Steve? He isn’t here, besides if we don’t touch each other it doesn’t count.” The logic wasn’t full proof but it was enough for her. “Okay, yeah.” The moment the words left her mouth you were shucking your sweater off onto the ground. Your arm swiped the rest of the magazines off to give both of you room.

Your back was once again against the headboards, Robin’s now resting on the wall. Reaching up, you unclasped your bra with practiced swiftness, the fabric loosening on your chest. Letting the straps of it slide down, you watched it fall away into your lap. Robin’s lips parted, already damp panties becoming uncomfortably wet. With a single look you could tell, throwing your bra to the side.

“You can touch yourself,” you assured her. She nodded, entranced, and unzipped her pants to throw them across the room. You laughed at her enthusiasm, swiftly pulling off your own pants to pile on the ground. Her underwear were a plain light blue and she wished she wore something a bit more flashy like you had. Did you always dress that nicely?

Sliding your panties down, you set them next to you, spreading your legs for her to see. Her eyes roamed over your folds, slowly dragging her own underwear off. Freckles created a small trail down to her mound, hair dusting over it. You bit your lip, forgetting all about the magazine.

“She’s pretty,” you personalized her cunt. “Really..?” Robin questioned, hand mirroring your movements to your cunt. “Oh yeah.” Dragging your fingertips up and down, they spread apart to expose your clenching hole. Your eyes trained on where Robin was circling her clit.

One finger from your other hand edged around your entrance making it visibly flutter again. You chuckled when Robin’s eyes grew wide, a whine coming from her. “How many fingers?” You asked and her eyes snapped back up to you. “Huh?”

“How many fingers should we use?” She drew in a sharp breath. How many fingers did she usually start with? “Two.” You nodded and rolled your shoulders back, sliding two fingers in. The stretch burns a little and you pause halfway through.

Robin watched in rapt attention, two fingers edging inside of her at the same time. Her fingertips stroked the inside of her walls, coaxing them to loosen. Contrasting her approach, you twisted your fingers, knuckles sliding in as you moaned. The pain mixed with the pleasure, cunt easing up around you when you began curling them.

You sighed, legs relaxing at the feeling. Robin moaned as she watched you finger yourself, thumb pressing on her clit. She rubbed at it tenderly, walls fluttering to open up for her. She wanted to speed up the process, to be able to jump right in, but with you hungrily watching her like that she didn’t mind taking her time as much.

“Working yourself up, babe?” Her gut clenched at the pet name at the same time her cunt did. When she unclenched, her fingers slid in the last centimeter, back arching as she looked at you. Nodding, Robin drew her fingers halfway out before pushing them back in with a squelch. “Goddamn you’re wet.”

Robin blushed, looking down at where she was leaking on your bed, preparing to apologize when you continued. “I want to taste you so bad.” Your fingers crooked a bit, finding your g-spot. You moaned, eyes falling shut as you repeatedly hit the spot.

“Shit.” She squeaked, fingers thrusting in and out at a steady pace. “You’re so hot, so so pretty. Not that you usually aren’t because you always are. If you weren’t Steve’s sister, ooh shit.” You smirked, head dropping back to the wooden headboard as you reached down to play with your clit. 

“Trust me, if you weren’t his best friend I would have fucked you by now.” Robin moaned, excessive heat flooding her cunt. “You can if you want to.” “Oh I will,” you chuckled. “Just want you to cum like this for now.”

Your eyes cracked open to look at her desperately grinding into her moving hand, palm hitting her bundle of nerves. “Pretty girl,” you groaned, licking your lips. Robin keened, hips lifting as she repeatedly hit her clit with the palm of her hand, fingers curling inside her pulsing walls.

Fingertips dragged over your sweet spot again, cunt clenching. Losing all sense of patience from watching her you rubbed your clit desperately, nearing the precipice. You teetered on the edge of coming, watching her. Once Robin’s back arched with a moan you flicked your fingers up again, letting yourself go.

The pair of you came at the same time, Robin’s cum sliding down her fingers to pool in her palm. You panted, drawing your cum covered fingers from your pussy. Leaning down, You lapped up Robin’s cum from her hand, looking up at her. Her eyes widened, hips bucking forward while her fingers were still inside her. 

You smirked, pressing forward to look at her cunt. “You smell so fucking good.” Robin sighed shakily. Your eyes fell, blowing cool air on her slit to watch her clit twitch. You sat back up, triumphantly licking your fingers clean when you heard the downstairs door open. “Robin?” Steve called out.

Robin immediately pulled her hand from between her legs, jumping off the bed. She threw pants on and wiped her fingers off of her thigh. She threw a look over her shoulder as she opened your door to catch you winking, not making a move to get dressed. Robin would rather stay here, but she couldn’t get caught.

She bit her lip, ducking out the door and shut it. “Steve?” She called back, voice unnaturally high. You guessed by the scarce sound she had meandered down the steps. You waited, until you heard. “Why are you wearing my sister's pants?”

tags: @babybatlover, @starrgurl46, @wowzers-07, @nenukkjhj, @morgan0lw21, @kinokomoonshine, @slut4ddn, @marirxse, @chx-rrryc0la, @adventures-of-impala, @shesadilema13

[catcze]

CRYING OVER THE WRIO ANGST,,, A GOOD ENDING WHERE HE FINDS READER PLS I BEG OF U 😭

OKAY 😭

"The snowstorm is getting worse," says Albedo, clear disapproval in his voice as he trails after Wriothesley, a hand raised to shield his eyes from the pelting snow. "I suggest returning back to my workstation, otherwise we very well could freeze to death."

Freeze to death.

The phrase has Wriothesley's own blood chilling in his veins, as he wonders if that's the fate that had befallen you. His fists clench in his pockets, the leather of his gloves cracking from the grip. It's been two days already since he's rushed over to dragonspine ever since your disappearance— two days since he's been combing the entirety of this side of the mountain in his desperate search for you. Two days of barely fighting back against the sheer cold and the frost bite, two days of seeing no sign of you at all.

Two days of Wriothesley being in complete, abject terror at the thought that he might have to leave here never knowing what happened to you.

Albedo sighs behind him, rummaging in his pocket for some warming bottles. He slips them into the pocket of Wriothesley's coat quietly. "I have to return now," he says. "Please try not to lose yourself out here, too."

And then he is gone, leaving the Duke alone with his thoughts.

Wriothesley braves the snowstorm for several more hours, shouting your name until his voice cracks, hoping Barbatos would miraculously carry it across the wind to you. It's only when his legs are starting to give out after trekking miles and miles through the snow does he settle down in a small cave, collapsing against the wall. He groans, body practically deadweight, and rummages in his pockets for one of those warming bottles which he quickly smashes on the ground.

As the heat drives the chill from his body, Wriothesley tries to ignore the fatigue in his bones, sighing. It's just as he's about to take some rations that he hears it: someone calling his name over the roar of the snowstorm.

It doesn't take long for him to find out who it is. Within seconds, the Chief Alchemist is appearing at the entrance of his shelter, hair frazzled and coat haphazard, the most frantic Wriothesley has seen him in his short time of knowing him.

"Mister Wriothesley—" he takes a deep breath of air, "In the workshop— we found—"

And Wriothesley is on his feet before he knows it, practically running out of the cave. There's a flicker of hope in his chest as he follows Albedo's lead back to his workshop, just short of sprinting the rest of the way. From the very depths of his heart, he finds himself praying to whichever gods are bothering to listen to please, please let it be you. To let you be safe, be alright. For you to be able to envelop him in a nice, warm hug when he sees you because gods does he need one after the turmoil the past few days have put him through.

He practically tears through the snowy landscape, feet skidding to a halt only when he's at the mouth to Albedo's remote workshop, and his heart stops, then restarts, pounding like the beat of a thousand drums.

"Wrio!" You gasp, smiling widely. You're on a stool, a thick blanket wrapped around your shoulders, feet submerged in a pale of warm water, and alive.

Wriothesley rushes forward, body acting on nothing but instinct to get close to you, to hold you, to make sure that this isn't some twisted dream and he's gonna wake up any second in a snow pile, shivering like a wet dog. "Hi," you murmur quietly when your hand entwines with his, and he breaks, falling to his knees and burying his face into your lap, bathing in your warmth because this is real, this isn't a dream, and he's found you again.

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 2 ⬅ ch. 1

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. drinking. wc 2.3k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | so glad you're all liking the story so far! hope you like this chapter as well. like i mentioned before, i havent actually played this game lmao so pls excuse any plot inaccuracies. i'm going off of wikipedia and lets plays of the game on youtube. there will definitely be plot points that don't quite line up with the actual game. oh and just fyi, i do not have a tag list. sorry!!

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you awoke the following morning with a splitting headache, someone shaking you back and forth only increasing the pain. you squinted your eyes open to see your friend leaning over you. 

“what?” you said through gritted teeth, not holding back any snark. 

“smith and jamerson got pulled into something early this morning. you’re the only medic on base and gaz is bleeding out in the infirmary.”

you shot up in bed, almost slamming foreheads with your friend. “shit. why didn’t you start with that?” you hissed, stumbling out of bed and blindly yanking on clothes.

it didn’t take you long to appear in the cold and barren infirmary, a laughing gaz stretched out on a bed filling your vision when you came storming in. 

he was laughing?  

“gaz,” you began, approaching him. he looked away from ghost, who had apparently been bearable enough to make kyle laugh whilst ‘bleeding out’. 

gaz mimicked you and repeated your name, a stupid grin on his face. 

“i was told you were bleeding out,” you said with a bit of annoyance on your tongue as you slowly strolled up to the man. 

“well, i am bleeding,” he said, holding his hand up, poorly wrapped in white linen that had turned a rusty red. 

you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, turning it over in your own. “did you do this?” you asked, referring to the shitty bandage job. 

“not bad, right?” he said with a cheeky grin.

“you’ve got to be kidding, gaz,” your fingers came up to grip the bridge of your nose. “look at it. it's so loose that dirt and debris have gotten into it. you’ll get an infection if i don’t redo it.” you shook your head. “how long has it been like this?”

“several hours, i think.” gaz looked at ghost who ever so slightly shook with a silent laugh. “i dont know, i think i did a pretty fabulous job, but if you insist.” his words were soft and airy and you cocked a brow at him. 

“he’s doped up,” ghost’s guttural voice said from beside you. that would explain gaz’s nonchalance. “got properly decked in the ribs. wouldn’t be surprised if he broke a couple.”

your eyes narrowed at gaz. “gaz,” you said exhaustedly with a hint of reprimand. he looked at you with puppy-dog eyes and you stifled a giggle. 

you went to work on gaz, checking his ribs for fractures and cleaning and rebandaging his hand. you were trying excruciatingly hard to not think about ghost’s eyes on you as you moved about the room. you could feel his glare like flames licking your skin.

finished with gaz, you switched gears and went to ghost’s bedside. he had refused to sit still and had his feet hanging over the edge while he cleaned one of his guns. he looked up at you and you could have sworn you saw something like reverence in his eyes. 

you went to change ghost’s bandages now, gaz already snoring behind you, making you smile to yourself. 

“goin’ back t’my room today,” ghost told you.

“that’s not a good idea, l.t.” you gently nudged his chest and he sat the gun down beside him and laid back. your fingertips lit like a match at just the small physical contact. 

“well good thing I wasn’t askin’.”

why did he always have to be so blunt? you grit your teeth as you finished up, avoiding any unnecessary contact with his skin. 

“i’ll only need to keep an eye on you the next two days. just to make sure there's no infection. then it’s easy sailing from there. i’ll show you how to clean–”

“i’m not daft. been hurt before. didn’t have some medic on call then, either.”

some medic. you weren’t sure why that stung. you felt stupid all of a sudden; of course he’s been injured before. he likely knew the drill like the back of his hand. you suspected under all his gear there were battle wounds that would take a full day just for him to go over the story behind each one.

“well, only two more days with me. then i’ll be out of your hair,” you mumbled.

you felt pathetic for wanting him to reply. to assure you that you didn’t annoy him or that he didn’t mind seeing you. but he just remained silent until you turned and left the room. 

you found soap later that day digging through papers sprawled out on the coffee table before him. “didn’t know you could read,” you teased. 

he looked up at you with a grin. you stood behind him to get a look at what he was reading. “jus’ goin’ over the dossier for our next mission.”

“ our ?” you questioned.

“since you’re the only medic available at the moment. yes, you’ll be coming along for the ride.”

“oh, don’t i feel so special,” you said sarcastically. 

“i woulda asked for you regardless.”

“didn’t know you could make medic requests.”

“ya can’t.”

you collapsed next to him on the couch, sighing before you glazed over the words on the sheets. 

“wait, ‘Hassan’?” you said perking up and pointing to the man’s name. “this seems serious.” you looked at soap with concern. 

“not gonna be an easy one, that’s for sure.”

“but, soap, i can barely use a gun, let alone fight. this seems like i might get killed if…” you trailed off, your heart beginning to race. you weren’t used to going along for intimate missions like this. you usually were held back at base or brought alongside a slew of other medics. but with everyone else gone… 

“don’t worry, lass,” he said bumping your shoulder with his own. “we’ll get ya trained up. it’s not for another two weeks when Hassan should be in Al Mazrah.”

that didn’t exactly make you feel any better. these men have been training their whole life. and you got two weeks?

soap could see the worry spread across your visage. “you’ll have me, gaz, price, and ghost to protect ya.”

“no,” you shook your head. “i can’t become a liability. you guys will have far more important things to focus on.”

“yer not a liability . we need you. there's a good chance that if we capture Hassan, he’ll be hurt. it’s crucial we keep him alive.”

“and that’s where i come in,” you said gloomily. 

“you’re there for us too,” he said smiling at you. soap always did appreciate everything the medics did for the team. he never treated you any differently than the other soldiers. you leaned against him, your heart racing at the idea of what was to come. 

it was late at night when ghost was due for another cleaning. you made it to his door and softly knocked. you paused a moment but didn’t hear anything in return so you quietly pushed the door open. 

the room was dark but you could see the faint silhouette of ghost hunched over on the edge of his bed. your hand hit the wall, searching for the light switch.

“wait,” his deep voice rumbled. you paused all movement and heard the soft rustle of fabric as ghost shuffled. you saw the illuminated outline of him as he pulled his mask over his face. your heart skipped a beat realizing he was sitting in here without it on. “okay.”

you ticked the light switch and met his eyes immediately. he had on his thin balaclava as opposed to the usual hard plastic of his skull mask. it felt like he was naked.

“why don’t you let anyone see you?” you asked timidly. 

“why do you wanna see so bad?” he retorted, clearly already irritated with you. 

“i..” you paused, thinking momentarily. “it’s not that i want to see what you look like. but don’t you find it, i don’t know,” you gestured your hands around nervously, “a bit lonely?”

“lonely?”

“i feel like i’d be lonely if i was always guarded.”

ghost appraised you for a moment, making you squirm uncomfortably. “well, i’m not lonely,” he grunted. okay, end of conversation, you thought. 

you shifted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, “right. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean–”

“quit fuckin’ apologizing.”

you sucked in a sharp breath. “okay. sor–” before you could finish your sentence you stopped yourself. 

you watched ghost roll his eyes. why did upsetting him make you feel so disconcerted? you tried to wipe your face of all expression but you knew he would be able to tell his words wounded you. it wasn’t fair– he could read everything on your face, but all he gave you was his eyes.

you bit your lip then approached him, wanting to get this over with. “if you wanna take off your shirt,” you said absentmindedly as you set your med bag down on his bed beside him. 

he sat back slightly and hiked up his shirt, obviously not wanting to remove it fully. you weren’t sure why, but that made your face heat. it was a statement you’ve made a thousand times to men who had injuries on their torso or when you had to examine their chest. you hadn’t even thought about it when you said it. but when ghost clearly didn’t want to completely shed his clothes, you felt embarrassed, like you had asked for too much. and in a way, he was right. he didn’t need to completely be bare-chested for you to work on him. the wound was quite low on his abdomen. 

you swallowed your embarrassment and cleaned and rebandaged his stitches. you saw an array of goosebumps rise on ghost’s skin from your featherlight touches as you worked. you finished quickly before shoving all your supplies forcibly in your med bag. you needed out of there asap. 

you threw your bag on your shoulder and went to leave when ghost’s bare hands grabbed your wrist. he twirled you so effortlessly to face him again that it almost infuriated you. 

you sucked in a breath of air as you looked at him a bit dumbfounded. ghost thought for a moment, his hand still firmly around your wrist. 

“i don’t mean to be such an arse,” he grunted.

in a breathy tone you spoke back, “it’s fine. i don’t think that, you’re just—“

he cut you off. “no. i don’t have to be so fuckin' upfront with you all the time. you’re just tryin’ to do your job. i gotta remind myself your not one of my men.”

you nodded, holding in the hurt that echoed through you. he was being upfront with you? what did that mean? that he regrets just being honest? that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. you hated yourself for wanting him to say something along the lines of him just lashing out and he didn’t mean the shit he said to you. but he did mean the shit he said, he just regretted saying it out loud.

“not one of your men, right,” you repeated back. you weren’t one of his men. you were just a starstruck woman who had no fucking business working with the most elite men in the world. awesome. 

ghost’s eyes darted between yours as if he wanted to say something more. that maybe he didn’t like the sullen tone you used when repeating his words back to him. as if he might have actually not intended for that implication. you could have sworn you saw his lips move under his mask like he was contemplating telling you he didn’t mean it like that.

but he was silent. 

“really. it’s fine,” you mumbled. “i’ll see you tomorrow.” 

ghost breathed your name, all too easily deciphering the hurt in your words. you wanted to bash your head against the wall for being so obvious. he was right. you weren’t meant for this line of work. you were too soft.

oh my god, were you going to cry?!

you ignored the flutter in your belly when he said your name and scurried out of the room, wanting to drown out your embarrassment with a swig of whiskey. this seemed to be a pattern with you two–ghost saying something a bit too real, you getting hurt and running out of the room like a baby.

you found soap back where you left him and you waltzed over to him with a bottle of whiskey in hand. he looked up at you and gave you a cheeky grin. 

his smile shifted to something of concern when you deflated next to him on the sectional. 

“ghost give ya a hard time?” 

“no,” you lied. “just been a long day.”

soap took the bottle from you and took a drag. “long week, more like it.” 

you chuckled before taking a sip. you passed the bottle back and forth a few more times until your body buzzed and your mouth wouldn’t let you swallow any more of the foul liquid.

“how do you guys drink this shit?” you asked, making a face of disgust.

“years of self-hatred,” he grinned.

you slouched against him. 

“do you think i’m cut out for this? 

he flipped through the pages of the dossier before glancing at you. “cut out for what?”

you gestured around you. “this. working with you guys. working for the best of the best.”

“'course i fuckin’ do.” he gave you a quizzical look. “why would you even ask that?”

you shrugged, keeping your eyes off of him.

your name escaped his lips making you finally look up at him. “you’re here for a reason. price doesn’t let just anyone join his team. i’ve seen what you can do, lass. you’re part of the best of the best .”

you smiled making him grin at you in return. “no more of this shit, okay?” he said softly, his scottish accent getting heavier the more he drank. you found it comforting.

“okay,” you agreed. 

“now, lets find price so we can steal all his money with a few games of cards,” he said, lightly tapping your shoulder with his fist.

you laughed knowing good and well price could beat the two of you blindfolded.

chapter 3 ➡