#i'm wasting precious reading minutes

[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.

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

Ok, I just read your sweet yandere post and would like to add something.

I love the idea of like a mafia boss yandere or someone who is usually cruel (like maybe a Hades sort of character) but is an absolute sweet heart to their darling. One of my fave tropes

OOOOOOH I LOVE THIS TROPE! I have a character who's just like this actually, a total sweetheart to whoever he's with but has a very low tolerance for most other people.

Sorry, this is a long one lol

I'm gonna make headcanons now because you've inspired me lol.

(Banner/divider credit goes to @cafekitsune)!

Tw: Kidnapping, mentions of violence

Mafia boss! Charlie who is no stranger to violence. He's lived his entire life surrounded by it, in fact. Having a mafia boss for a father will do that to you, he guesses.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's spent his whole life working for the mafia, being trained to kill, smuggle, and deal ever since he was a child. He grew up living a life of crime, rising up the ranks (thanks to his father), before taking over as the boss when his father was killed by an unruly client.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's a cruel, ruthless man. He's killed dozens of people, injured many more, and runs his organization with an iron fist. He may be young, but he's learned enough to know that any show of trust, any display of kindness is a show of weakness, a show of vulnerability. He can't afford that, not when he's the head of the mafia, so he makes sure to make it so that no one will question or challenge his authority by any means necessary.

Mafia boss! Charlie who has very few real friends, keeping those he does have at an arm's length. He'd rather die than admit that he craves real relationships, that he desires to make genuine, true connections with others. But he can't, so he pushes his wants to the side, reminding himself that his only purpose is to keep his business running smoothly, nothing more.

Until he sees you, that is.

Mafia boss! Charlie who meets you out on a grocery run one day. Your interaction is nothing special, at least to you, but Charlie can't help but marvel at how easily you make conversation with him while ringing up his items, how seemingly unfazed you are by his snappy attitude and unapproachable appearance. It's been a long, long time since he's met anyone unafraid of him, and those people are usually rivals who are too cocky for their own good. So this, this is new. He knows it's stupid, he knows that your tiny interaction shouldn't have mattered much to someone like him, but he can't help but feel giddy about the connection he's sure he felt.

Mafia boss! Charlie who, against his better judgment, wastes no time in trying to find out who you are. It's not hard, he has an entire organization full of trained trackers, stalkers, and informants at his disposal, and by the end of the day, he has your full name, address, social media accounts, family tree, medical records, and much more safely in his welcoming hands. He knows this is a bit overkill considering he only met you today and your interaction lasted five minutes at most, but now that he has a taste of real human interaction, he's addicted. He needs more.

Mafia boss! Charlie who quickly becomes awestruck and obsessed with you. His whole life, he's been surrounded by the craftiest, cruelest, most violent people imaginable, so to see someone, especially someone as precious as you, live a completely normal life, naive to the dangers he faces everyday? It's captivating! Of course, he can't follow you all day, he is a mafia boss after all, but he has enough people following you around and recording your every move that he doesn't need to! He's never been happier to be who his is than now.

Mafia boss! Charlie who thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. You're a sweet little thing, too gentle and too unaware of the dangers around you for your own good. He loves everything about you, no matter how weird or embarrassing. He's content to watch you carefully for a couple months, but as time goes on, his need to feel our touch, to talk to you, to see you face to face is too much. He needs you. He needs you NOW. It doesn't help that you're so vulnerable and weak compared to him, with no knowledge of weaponry or stealth to keep you safe. What if someone were to try and hurt you? Of course, his goons wouldn't let that happen, not if they wanted to keep their organs, but he would feel so much better if he could keep an eye on you personally. Not to mention, every mafia boss needs a spouse, and some of his higher ranking associates have been hinting that it's about time he found someone...

Mafia boss! Charlie who immediately starts planning your "transfer" to his house, meticulously drafting out every last detail to secure your safety. He chooses his best, most skilled employees to carry out his plan, only the best for his darling, and sends them out to bring you "home". That day you come home from work, completely unaware of the people in your apartment, completely unaware of the sleeping pills dumped into your water while you weren't looking.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's ecstatic to finally have you with him, to finally have someone to hold, to talk to, to love. He brings your unconscious body to your new room, laying you softly on the bed while instructing his employees to pack up all your belongings and bring them to him. He doesn't tie you down or chain you up, he has enough security measures in place to make sure you won't be able to escape. You won't even be able to leave your room without him being notified.

Mafia boss! Charlie who watches the camera in your room as you wake up for the first time in your new home, confused and disoriented. All of your stuff is here, but this is NOT your apartment. Where are you? He watches as you start to freak out, guilt flashing through him for the first time in his life. He doesn't want you to be scared, he just wants to keep you safe!

Mafia boss! Charlie who sends one of his gentler employees into your room to explain everything, too afraid of scaring you even further by showing up himself. He waits a few days before revealing himself to you, when your terror has calmed down and you've become more familiar with your surroundings. He kind of just stands there, unable to formulate a sentence, which is extremely unnerving to you. You've been told you're to be married to a highly respected and violent mafia boss, and here he is, just...staring. When he opens his mouth to speak, your surprised at how soft his voice is, calmly explaining to you that you're safe, you won't be hurt. He reaches out his hand to touch you, but recoils when you flinch, not wanting to push you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who does everything he can to make you more comfortable and less afraid of him, getting you anything and everything you've ever shown interest in, giving you as much space as you need, and letting you roam the rather large house freely. All you can't do is leave. He doesn't understand why you're still so scared, sure he's a criminal, but he promised he would never hurt you!

Mafia boss! Charlie who gets more desperate for your love as time goes on. He starts appearing in whatever room your in, softly talking to you about his day or about whatever you're doing, trying to get you to be more comfortable with him. Once you've gotten used to that, he starting slowly initiating physical contact, holding you in his arms like he's never going to let you go (because he won't). He tried his hardest not to push your boundaries, but eventually his need to be near you becomes too great. Rest assured though, he would never, ever dream of hurting you or purposely scaring you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who can't get enough of the feeling of your skin on his. He starts hugging/cuddling you whenever he can, holding you like you'll break if he presses too hard. He's always near you, cuddling up to you while telling you about how much he loves you, adoration shining in his eyes. He's the clingiest at night though, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall asleep, him watching over you until he succumbs to his own tiredness. And his kisses? They are the softest, fluffiest thing you've ever felt. He cannot get enough of your lips, and he always kisses you passionately, like you'll disappear once he separates from you. With how loving and gentle he is, it doesn't take long for you to start loving him back.

Mafia boss! Charlie who starts giving you more privileges the farther you fall into stockholm. He'll even start taking you out in public on dates once he thinks there's no chance of you trying to escape him. He'd be able to find you if you did, he has many, many connections, but he trusts you won't. He loves going out with you and doing normal, coupley things with you, it's a nice break from his usual, violent life.

Mafia boss! Charlie who is insanely protective of you, never leaving you alone in a room with anyone except for himself. He knows how dangerous it is to be associated with him and now that he has you, he refuses to let anything happen to you. Any rival who attempts to hurt, kill, or kidnap you is met with Charlie himself, who enacts the most brutal, torturous death he can possibly think of on them. Nobody will come close to hurting you, he'll make sure of it. But no matter what happens, he'll always make sure you're far, far away from the violence. He never wants to subject you to the horrors he's seen (and done).

Mafia boss! Charlie who feels awful the first time you hear him raise his voice. It wasn't at you of course, he would never, ever think of yelling at his darling, you just happened to be in the room when he was meeting with one of his associates. It's scary seeing him yell, threatening brutal acts of violence on his own employee, and for the first time you realize how different he is with others than he is with you. He's quick to shut the meeting down once he realizes you're there, spending the rest of the night apologizing to you and assuring you he would never speak to you like that. This'll be the first time he truly opens up about what his job is like and why he has to be as cruel as he is, trying to help you understand why he behaved the way he did. It's difficult for him to make himself vulnerable, but he'd gladly to it if it meant easing your mind. From then on, he makes absolute sure you aren't around whenever he has to take care of business. He refuses to let you see him like that ever again.

Mafia boss! Charlie who never lets you forget how much he needs you in his life. You're the only thing keeping him from devolving into insanity, he wouldn't know how to handle himself if you were gone. He'll give you everything and anything if you listen to him and stay by his side, so please... please don't try to leave him.

Not that you would be able to, anyway.

[writinginatree]

Breakfast Gone Wrong

Relationship(s): The lost boys & reader

Summary: You get hurt by what was supposed to be your victim, and your overprotective vampire brothers get overprotective.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, injury, blood drinking, swearing, vampire!reader, written from David's point of view.

Requested by @mizgames way back in February. I'm so so sorry for taking so extremely long to get this done. It's also a little different from your exact request because I remembered it wrong and didn't read the request again before I started writing, but I hope you still like it anyway!

David knew it was a bad idea to let you hunt on your own. He fucking knew it. That's all he can think of as he rushes to your side, following your pained screams. He should have never let you out of his sight, but you were just so goddamn stubborn he hadn't been able to change your mind. In a fit of what he can only classify as teenage rebellion, and for absolutely no reason other than being a brat, you had suddenly decided that you're a big, grown-up vampire perfectly capable of hunting alone. And David, wrapped around your little finger as he is, had given in and agreed, despite knowing he shouldn't.

He told you not to go too far away from him and the others, to pick an easy victim, to call him if you needed help.

And now here you are, writhing in the sand with a wooden stake through your stomach. He left you unsupervised for five, ten minutes at most. This will definitely have been the last time he ever let you out of his sight. He'll be damned if he takes the risk of something like this ever happening again. Nope, you're grounded — for the rest of all eternity.

The asshole who did this is currently being torn apart by Paul and Marko, while Dwayne is already kneeling by your side, assessing the graveness of your injury. David joins him, since the feral blondes clearly don't need his help. He wordlessly holds you down as Dwayne pulls the wood from your body.

You cry out in pain, try to sit up and get away, but David is stronger and keeps you in place.

He's looking anywhere but at your face. If there's one thing he can't stand it's seeing you suffer. If he looks at your tearstained face for too long he might just start crying too.

Finally Dwayne has pulled the stake — which on closer inspection is just a branch that was probably meant to feed a bonfire — free, and your wails die down into soft sobs. He lifts your head onto his lap, stroking your hair, as David holds your hands and murmurs soothing words.

Paul and Marko drag what's left of your attacker over to you, letting his blood trickle directly into your mouth. You instinctively gulp it down, though David is pretty certain you don't even consciously notice anything going on around you through the pain clouding your mind.

You'll need a lot more blood than what's left in this guy to regain your strength. In their ripping him to shreds, Marko and Paul wasted a lot of the precious liquid, which now uselessly stains the sand a few feet beside your weak form. David decides it's only fair if they're the ones to have to go and find another victim to feed you with, while he and Dwayne watch over you.

For a moment he considers immediately taking you back to the cave, but dismisses the idea as quickly as it came. With how weak you are, David doesn't want to risk moving you just yet. Not until they've gotten some more blood into you.

The other two have only been gone a few minutes, but David can't take watching you like this any longer. He pushes back his sleeve and pierces his skin with his fangs, holding the wound to your lips. You instantly start sucking his blood, and he can almost watch as some semblance of life slowly returns to your face.

"Don't give them too much," Dwayne cautions. "You weakening yourself too is the last thing we need right now."

"I know."

"They'll be fine."

"I know," David repeats, and it's halfway true. The logically thinking part of him does know that. But there's also that other part, the part that can't watch you cry, the part that would go insane if he lost you. It's the same part of him that upon meeting you all those years ago instantly declared himself your older brother, a feeling that has only been amplified after being turned into vampires. He doesn't doubt the others feel the same. As the youngest of their group you have them all extremely protective over you, though David is aware he's the most protective of you by far. Maybe even a bit too much so, though he would never admit that. It's only natural, he thinks, after all he was the first to become your brother.

But Dwayne is right, he shouldn't let his feelings get the best of him. You're going to be okay. Paul and Marko should be back with a human blood donor for you soon, anyway. He just wanted to make sure you could hold out until then.

Now you almost look strong enough to drain a victim yourself if they hold it down for you, and after you feed you'll definitely be strong enough to sit on David's bike and let him take you back to the safety of the cave. He almost thinks you'll even be strong enough to be a brat and protest, but David will not let you change his mind about grounding you. Your safety comes first, your happiness second.

He pries his arm from your mouth and wipes a few stray drops of blood from your chin with his gloved hand.

You blink up at him, seemingly a lot more aware of your surroundings than just a couple minutes ago.

"How are you feeling, kitten?"

"Ouchie."

David chuckles despite himself. "Yeah, you could say that. What were you thinking?!"

"He looked like an easy victim..." Your voice is weak, hoarse with tears, but David is relieved you're already wearing your typical bratty pout again. "How was I supposed to know he'd try and gut me?!"

"People tend not to like it when you're trying to kill them."

"That's not a reason to stab someone!"

David thinks of all the times you came close to biting his or one of the other boys' fingers off for minor offences like wanting a bite of your food or wiping dirt from your face. Just last week you threatened to stab David with your ice cream cone because he said you couldn't stay at the boardwalk any longer if you wanted to be home at the cave before the sun came up.

"Uh-huh."

He shares a look with Dwayne, and knows he's thinking the same thing.

Just then Paul and Marko come back, a woman's limp body hanging between them. They dump her beside you. "Here, baby, we knocked her out for you."

For a moment you just stare, like you're not sure what you're supposed to do with her, or too exhausted to lean over and bite her. But then you move, sinking your teeth deep into her throat and David smells the blood when your teeth break the skin.

The boys sit around you in a protective circle and watch as you drink. They're hungry too, after all they barely had time to find victims of their own, let alone suck them dry, before your cry for help drew them away. But they hold back. They can wait.

Silently communicating they agree to bring you home, and then go out to feed in pairs, so there's always two of them with you. It's an unnecessary precaution, of course, but that doesn't bother them. It will bother you — or at least you'll say it does. You always pretend to be annoyed by their protectiveness, by being babied by them so much, as you like to phrase it. But the way you always hide under David's coat, make Paul give you piggyback rides and Dwayne read to you, and insist on Marko doing your hair for you says different. You might be pissed at David for grounding you, but he doesn't doubt you'll secretly love being the center of attention like that — even more so than usual.

Paul has curled up by your side now, arms wrapped around you and nuzzling his head against your shoulder. You briefly interrupt your feeding to hiss at him. David is glad to see it — the fact you're defending your food is a sure sign you're feeling better.

When you're done there's blood smeared all over your face. Dwayne wipes it away with his flag, making you whine and try to push away his hands. "I'm not a baby, Dwayne!"

Oh yes, you're definitely feeling better.

Still, you allow David to pick you up and carry you back to where the bikes are parked, snuggling against his chest and refusing to be put back down when you've reached the bikes. David sighs and climbs on his bike with you, sitting you in front of him and telling you to hold on tight to him, despite you already doing that.

Back at the cave you still refuse to let go, so David carries you inside and settles in your favorite spot — a sort of nest you've built in a small alcove going off the main cave, consisting of a mattress covered in a pile of countless fluffy blankets and pillows, with all the stuffed animals the boys have won for you at the boardwalk over the years strewn all over the place — with you on his lap.

Paul runs after him, and throws himself down beside the both you, cuddling close. Once he's done squirming around to get comfortable he's halfway laying on top of David, too, his face pressed so deep into your side he would probably suffocate if he were human.

It reminds David that he wasn't the only one worried about you, as he watches the tension seep from Paul's body now that you're in safety and he can hold you close. Since it's obvious Paul won't be letting go of you for a while, Marko and Dwayne head out to feed first, each pressing a kiss to your forehead before they go.

You're close to falling asleep, despite how early in the night it still is. No wonder after what you just went through.

David brushes his hand over your face, gently traces the bridge of your nose up to your forehead and back down in a soothing motion, watches your eyelids flutter as you fight to stay awake.

David well remembers a night much like this one, many years ago when you had all still been human, kids living on the streets. You'd been attacked then, too, by a man who'd caught you trying to steal from him. You still have the scar on your chin, where his knife grazed you before you got away. Then, like now, you'd clung to David for the rest of the night, hiding in the questionable safety of his arms.

He traces over the scar on your chin, wondering if today's injury will leave one, too. He supposes not. Vampires don't get scars as far as he's aware, but then again there's still so much he doesn't know about all this, even after decades of undead life.

"Sleep, kitten. You've got to rest."

An agreeing hum comes from Paul's direction, but you continue forcing your eyes to stay open.

"I'm not even tired."

He ignores the wornout lie and says, "You're hurt. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you'll feel better."

You seem to consider this for a moment, absentmindedly playing with Paul's hair and snuggling even closer to David, if that's even possible.

Finally you nod. "Fine. But you have to stay with me the whole time. I'll get nightmares if you make me sleep alone."

David hadn't expected anything else, and agrees. He doesn't mind going hungry in favor of watching over you, even if he knows you've never had a nightmare in your life.

He keeps stroking your face, slowly lulling you to sleep.

Paul, never one to keep still for long, starts fidgeting, and David throws him a glare. "Stay still or go do something else. You're keeping Y/N up."

"Sing us a lullaby then."

Before David can even think to tell Paul to fuck off, your eyes shoot wide open again, and you nod. "Yes, David, sing us a lullaby!"

With a heavy sigh David resigns to his fate. He really needs to learn how to say no to you, but of course that's never going to happen. And, seeing the content little smile on your face, he can't really bring himself to mind.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 6 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

I think this might actually be my favorite Agatha, for real? Like, the ring binder. The pOUTING. She's SO serious. I want to talk to her in a baby voice, just like, to be supportive of her little things.

And the Bohner family reunion shirt, of course. the gray socks, the garden hose sprayer as a gun. To use tumblr lingo, that's the saddest meow meow of a woman I've ever seen, and I'm obsessed with her.

GAY ON GAY VIOLENCE

joe was holding for dear life, but he didn't laugh. because he's a professional.

billy putting all the hours he spent on tvtropes dot com to good use

he's always a little smug, like he thinks he's in control, that he knows better. when he actually doesn't know shit! that's the whole attitude he brought to the Road.

and that's detective agnes o'connor to you, you little punk.

the click pen gag destroys me. this is 5 minutes of kathryn and joe being silly and, look, does it further the plot? no. am I having fun? sure am! so who's to say it's wasted time?

and the way she looks so small and lost when reality slips in for a moment, she is so precious to me.

look at the hand going in witchy position, the real agatha fighting to regain control. what a great acting choice.

for context he spent all of five minutes in the closet before bursting out in a a cloud of nail polish fumes. and it still was five minutes too many

the draMATIC zoOM IN

you thought quicksand would be enough to kill thee agatha harkness?? you're gonna need to put some more effort to it, some flair! and what's more, she's gonna complain about it the whooooole time

fare thee well swooshy coat

I just realized all the little innocent questions billy keeps peppering agatha with are exactly because he can't read her mind, so he's trying to get information for the Road on the down low

you guys keep accidentally shaping reality. it's a fairly big tell.

she tries to joke as usual, but when billy doesn't respond she sighs and tries to be soft and thoughtful. she's not AT ALL comfortable opening up so it's laced with manipulation, but hey, she tries

goddamnit she's crying again. I told you she loves billy for being billy, and not just as a nicky stand-in. this is the brilliant little boy who could always see right through her, and agatha has loved him since the day he was born.

hey there kiddo. so you've killed a few witches, happens to the best of us. look at me, killing witches never opened a gaping black chasm in my soul or anything. you're going to be fine.

billy is so not amused

just like with wanda, there's so much there. sympathy, thirst for power, genuine interest in cool witchcraft, self preservation, fear, desire. she wants to connect, she wants to squash him like a bug, she wants to steal his powers and run, she wants to MOTHER him

and in all this whirlwind of emotions, mothering wins out. and it's projecting and it's selfish, she's telling him what she wishes her own mother would have told her.

she is uplifting billy and giving him a pep talk, but she's also giving herself a pep talk. she's proudly claiming her status as a survivor, while also trying to justify - to herself and to billy - all she atrocities she's committed. like I said, there's always so much there. at least 90% of her is purely selfish, and then there's a luminous little corner of her soul that is capable of so much love.

and at the end of a speech that started calculated and became all passion, she reclaims her identity as a witch, despite all the difficult history there. her mother passed on overwhelming internalized hatred and fear of witchfolk and - inevitably, some serious self-hatred. Her sense of identity and belonging is all fucked up, she must have been trying to negotiate and come to terms with it since she was a child.

and of course, being agatha, she hates herself while still believing she's the greatest witch that ever lived.

oooh, who's an edgy boy! I've been thinking about billy's defense mechanisms too, he usually goes for the innocent teen persona (a bit like agatha chooses to play cheesy characters) but he gets so very edgy and dramatic when upset. I think deep down he's more proud and self-involved that he'd be comfortable admitting, and why wouldn't he? he's so powerful. he can read everyone around him like an open book, a part of him genuinely thinks he's figured it all out. he doesn't like being told that he's wrong because ultimately he's TERRIFIED of being wrong and making a mess of things like agatha or wanda.

and he's carrying so much destructive potential that his growing pains, the mistakes that every young person ought to make, could have catastrophic consequences. that's why he so badly needs agatha's guidance, she's the only one who could possibly understand all that. if, you know, she could only work through her own shit first.

lmao that was such an elaborate (and cruel) way to land a joke. and she KNOWS tommy's name, she's just being a bitch

mustache!

billy getting in her face to yell at her reminds me of when she's confronted by jen in the finale, she tries to joke and deflect until jen no longer allows it. she is so afraid of facing her own responsibilities.

and she gets serious just for a moment, just long enough to betray how much billy's rejection actually hurts her. and she didn't expect anything else, so she keeps rejecting people first only to be heartbroken again when they do too. such a vicious cycle.

and the walls are up again.

and she swaggers off, the wretched muddy little creature. she looks almost cool.

next up:

yeah, it's lilia's episode.

goddammit.

[transvampireboyfriend]

@steddie-week Day 1: Secret relationship

Rating: M Words: 2362

Modern AU

"I'm gonna get us some more popcorn" Steve says, slapping his hands against his thighs.

Eddie gives him side eye because it's only been ten minutes since the movie started and they're supposed to be discrete.

Steve silently shrugs at him, raising his eyebrows and pointedly looking at everyone in the room.

He's right, no one even reacted to Steve's statement. Jon and Argyle are absentmindedly playing with each other's hands, eyes locked on the screen; Chrissy and Robin are still whispering to each other; Jeff is still showing something to Freak and Nancy on his phone and Gareth is still dozing on and off next to Chrissy.

Okay then, Eddie thinks, and tries to communicate the same to Steve with a shrug of his own.

Steve smiles a small thing, and winks at him.

A blink and you'll miss it wink, but Eddie still has to bite the inside of his cheek to tame his answering smile and try to subdue the heat rising to his cheeks.

7:05 his watch reads when Steve leaves the room.

Five minutes should be fine right? For Eddie to follow without making their friends suspicious?

Eddie looks at the TV and tries to focus on the movie, but all he can see are colors.

He doesn't know what they're watching, was too distracted by the hair on Steve's arm when they discussed it.

The hair on Steve's arm, which Eddie only discovered yesterday, is so soft and fun to kiss.

And lick.

And mouth at.

Jesus, it's been a whole month since their first date, a little more than that since they first kissed and Eddie still acts like a lovesick fool.

7:06

Eddie starts bouncing his leg impatiently.

On second thought, popcorn takes like two minutes to be ready. And say it takes Steve an additional minute to put it into a bowl, then he'll be back in less than five!

Eddie's wasting precious time!

He stands abruptly and everyone does turn to look at him at that.

"Sorry," he smiles sheepishly, "need to use the bathroom. Be right back."

His friends turn back to the TV with hums and noncommittal grunts and Eddie at least has the sense to walk towards the hallway and not go through the kitchen's front door.

It's a redundant but necessary detour and in a few more seconds, he's opening the kitchen's side door.

Steve greets him by throwing his arms around his neck, "What took you so long?" he asks, leaning forward to bring their lips together.

Eddie hums against him and lets go of the door, letting it swing closed in favor of grabbing on to his boyfriend.

His arms circle Steve's waist and pull him closer as they kiss.

"Didn't wanna be too obvious" Eddie murmurs against Steve's lips, noticing there's no smell of popcorn or any sound from the microwave.

Steve hums, then grabs Eddie's face with both hands and soundly kisses him once, twice.

"I think I'm about ready to tell them," Steve comments when he pulls back, lowering his hands to Eddie's shoulders.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, feeling his heart pick up its pace.

Steve liking him back is one thing, getting to be together like this another, but him telling everyone about it? Eddie hadn't even dared to dream that big in the year or so that he spent pining after the most beautiful boy he's ever met.

Steve nods, a smile growing on his face.

"Cool," Eddie comments, unable to hide the huge grin that's surely showing his dimples.

Steve giggles, that wonderful sound reserved only for Eddie, and nods again, "Mmhm" he agrees, leaning forward again, placing his mouth on his and tangling his fingers in his hair.

Eddie searches his tongue the way he knows Steve likes, steals his air and sucks on his lower lip when they need to part, enjoying the way Steve's body goes boneless, melts against his hold.

"God, I love your mouth," Eddie sighs, making Steve laugh softly against him,

"Are you staying over tonight?" Steve asks, pleasantly scratching the back of Eddie's skull,

"If you want me to, babydoll," Eddie offers, thoroughly enjoying the blush that the ridiculous petname elicits as Steve scoffs and looks away from him.

Eddie takes the opportunity to smack a kiss on his cheek, feeling Steve's smile get wider.

He turns back to Eddie and his smile fades a little, Eddie turns his head to the side, worry creeping up inside him.

"Please stay," Steve asks, with something serious in his eyes,

Eddie understands. Maybe more than Steve would expect him to. So he makes it his priority to reciprocate his boyfriend's seriousness and moves both his hands up to hold Steve's face,

"For as long as you'll have me, sweetheart," he promised, hoping Steve can hear his sincerity, can understand how much he means it when they look into each others' eyes.

Steve smiles with something like wonder and brings their lips together again.

Eddie moves one of his hands to the back of Steve's head, and grabs onto his hair there, circling the other around his waist again and walking them back until Steve softly bumps the kitchen counter.

Steve sits on top of the counter with practiced ease, using Eddie's shoulders to jump up and then opening his legs like he always does.

And like always, it drives Eddie insane.

He takes his place between Steve's legs, kissing him insistently, his hands moving from his waist to the top of his thighs, rubbing there as he goes to kiss his neck, when the door opens.

Eddie's heart stops.

In the span of a few seconds which seem infinite to him, Eddie freezes, looks up from Steve's neck to his face, finds him staring ahead with eyes as wide as plates and straightens up, letting go of Steve's thighs to turn around and find Gareth rummaging through the fridge.

An agonizingly long minute passes.

None of them say anything, Steve staying atop the counter and Eddie frozen in place, until Gareth straightens up with a can on his hand, and looks at them like he hadn't even realized they were there when he came in.

Eddie can only raise his eyebrows.

"Sorry, Jeff did want a coke after all," Gareth says, like it explains anything, "You know how he is," he comments,

Eddie stares.

"Did ...you want us to pause the movie?" Gareth asks.

Eddie blinks.

"Uh, no. That's okay," Steve answers,

"Alright." Gareth says slowly, "...Cool," he concludes, and then he exits the kitchen without another word.

Eddie frowns, a little mindblown, immediately turning back to Steve and finding a similar frown on his face.

"Did you-?" Steve asks,

"No!" Eddie cuts in, scandalized and a little panicked, "Of course not! We agreed we wouldn't tell anyone!"

Steve's frown dissipates to give way to a soft smile. He places his hand against Eddie's cheek. "I know," he affirms, "sorry."

Eddie rolls his eyes a little, letting Steve know no apology is necessary and he sighs, calmer now that he can see that Steve's not freaking out.

He leans into his boyfriend's hand more.

"Do you think Robin-?" he ventures,

"I don't think so," Steve answers softly, "Last I heard Chrissy doesn't even know yet. And that was last week" he comments, moving his hand to tuck Eddie's hair behind his ear, absentmindedly caressing the strands after.

"I don't think she would tell Chris without telling me," Steve assures him,

Chrissy does suspect. Eddie met her a little later than he met Steve but she's rapidly become his best friend and regularly refers to Steve and Eddie as 'a couple'.

Eddie used to blush hard at the comments, before they got together. And she never pushed, but it was the thing that got him to notice that his looks were returned, got him to understand that Steve doesn't actually treat anyone else the way he treats Eddie.

Now he just sort of scoffs when she mentions it, but he hasn't told her either. Wanted to let Steve set their pace.

"I mean he is known to be distracted" Eddie offers about Gareth,

Steve laughs silently, "There's no way he didn't notice me up on the counter and you between my legs, baby,"

Baby.

Eddie blushes. He can't get over the pet names, especially when Steve only uses them in private.

He returns his hands to rest on top of Steve's thighs and leans up to kiss him, trying to cool the heat in his cheeks.

It does not work.

Steve rubs their noses together when they pull apart, resting his hands on Eddie's shoulders, "You wanna tell 'em?" he asks,

"If you do," Eddie says, "but tell me if there's anything that should change" he requests,

One of Steve's hands holds his face again, his thumb softly moving back and forth on his cheek.

"Like what?" he asks, barely above a whisper,

"I don't know," Eddie answers, racking his brain for an example, "like, ...are you into PDA?" he asks in the same tone, not wanting to burst the bubble they created,

Steve strokes Eddie's hair again, turns his head and purses his lips, thinking,

"I'd like to hold your hand" he settles on.

He's gonna kill Eddie, one of these days, his heart will grow so big from how sweet Steve is, that it'll explode.

Eddie has to press his lips together so he doesn't smile ear to ear.

"That's not PDA, I don't think,"

"No?" Steve innocently asks, he knows what he's doing, the bastard. Eddie wants to melt.

"No, angel,"

"You want us to kiss with tongue in front of everyone?" Steve asks, in the same tone, but with a shit eating grin,

Eddie snorts loudly, has to lean his head on Steve's shoulder to suppress his laugh.

"No, I don't think I want that," he says, straightening up while his shoulders still shake with his laughter,

"Good," Steve says, looking smug, "Me neither,"

He places a kiss against Eddie's temple, gently scratches the back of Eddie's skull and asks, "What about you? Do you have anything?"

"Was thinking I like the things you call me in private," Eddie murmurs, emboldened by the tender touch,

Steve smiles softly, but wags his eyebrows.

Eddie laughs again, almost shy, "Shut up." he protests, "You don't even call me anything different in bed,"

Steve joins him, laughing softly, but then his eyes soften too.

"Hmm," he hums, leaning down to close the distance between them, "I can save the pet names just for you" he murmurs,

Eddie leans up the small fraction left to join their lips again, and Steve softly kisses back.

"Anything else?" Eddie asks as they pull back,

"Can I have shotgun privileges? And hold your hand while you drive?" Steve requests,

" 'Course you can" Eddie grins, sure that there are hearts in his eyes when he leans up to briefly kiss Steve's jaw,

"What else?" Eddie asks,

"Want your hands in my hair" Steve answers easily, in the syrupy tone he always gets when Eddie gets his mouth anywhere near his neck,

"Anytime," Eddie grants, softly biting where he just kissed,

"You?" Steve asks,

"Would you wear my clothes out of the house?" Eddie tries,

Steve smiles and kisses both his eyelids, making him chuckle a bit "I'd love that",

"Something more?" Steve gently probes,

"We can figure out the rest as we go?"

"Sounds like a plan."

---

"Eddie and I are together" Steve proudly announces to his friends after the movie's over and the pizza's gone.

He takes Eddie's hand in his and Eddie smiles at him so wide, his cheeks hurt.

Robin squeals. Eddie turns to look at her and sees Chrissy doing the same, with a confused frown on her face.

Eddie thinks that's weird, but when he looks at the rest of their friends he finds expectant looks on their faces. Like they didn't understand or something.

After a beat, Nancy asks, "What do you mean?"

"Uh. We're dating," Steve answers, a little nervous now. Eddie softly squeezes his hand.

"Yeah, you have been for like a year, right?" Chrissy answers this time, "Certainly since I met you guys,"

Eddie gawks at her, "What?"

"Robin, did you tell her?" Steve asks,

"I didn't!" she defends,

"Tell me what?" Chrissy asks, turning to her,

Eddie cannot believe his ears.

"Wait," Jeff says, "you weren't dating before?"

"Before what?" Jon asks,

"Before we met Chrissy?" Gareth tries,

Eddie's whipping his head back and forth between them as they speak,

"When did we meet her?" Argyle asks,

"Was it last year?" Freak adds on,

"Shush! " Nancy urges, pulling everyone's attention to her,

"How long have you two been dating?" she asks Steve and Eddie,

"A month?" Eddie says, his head spinning,

"And a half" Steve finishes,

Robin snorts and the group erupts into protests,

"No way."

"What?"

"Nu-uh,"

"What the-"

"Oh my god?? "

"There's no way!"

Eddie nods at them, "Yeah, how long did you all think we had been dating for?"

"Before we met Chrissy!" they answer almost in unison.

"What? Why?" Steve asks,

"Because you go on dates," Jeff answers,

"What!? " Eddie's beginning to sound like a broken record,

"Yeah, you guys go shopping, and to the record store" Argyle explains,

"And to dinner at each other's places" Freak finishes,

"I do that with all of you!" Eddie protests,

"Yeah, as a group," Gareth counters,

Steve turns to look at him and presses his lips together when Eddie looks back.

"Don't you dare," Eddie warns, already trying to swallow the laughter bubbling up his throat,

"Wait, so you thought you were always sitting next to each other by happenstance?" Chrissy asks,

"You save our seats together? " Steve asks her like it's the most heart warming thing he's ever heard,

Eddie lets go of Steve's hand in order to bury his face in his own, he can feel his blush against his palms.

"You know we could hear you making out in the kitchen right?" Nance asks,

Eddie groans loudly just as Robin bursts out laughing.

"You platonically watched a movie together on Valentine's?" Argyle asks skeptically, "At the theater?"

"Oh my god " Eddie complaints,

That's what topples Steve. His laughter filling Eddie's ears.

He has to come out of his hiding place to look at him, seeing Steve joyful is what he was put on this Earth to do, Eddie thinks.

"You platonically got him a sunflower bouquet for his birthday?" Jon piles on,

"He said he'd never gotten flowers before!" Eddie defends as everyone laughs,

Steve chuckles, rubbing Eddie's back soothingly,

"What was I supposed to do?" Eddie turns to him,

Steve smiles brightly and places a kiss on his shoulder.

Eddie smiles back, placing a hand on Steve's knee.

As embarrassed as he is, he's really glad everyone finally knows.

Sneaking around was fun, but nothing can compare to having Steve like this.

[yujo-nishimura]

"Rubber Duckies"

You are stuck with your studies and your research and you decide to use your crew members as rubber duckies to explain to them what you are doing in the hope of overcoming your writer's block. 

Words: 1023

Comment: This is something I wrote while I am really stuck. I hope his helps other people who experience the same right now or need a little motivational booster for their papers/exams. The whole fic is fluff with a hint at smut (Law and Kid just always leave me feral).

Let me know in the comments if I should add any characters.

Luffy

He would listen patiently the whole time, lowering his head, his eyes covered by his straw hat. After several minutes, you realize he has fallen asleep. When you ask him a follow-up question, he jolts awake and gives you his brightest, most infectious smile. Despite your frustration, you can't stay mad at him.

"It all sounds very complicated, Y/N," Luffy says. "But I believe in you, and I'm sure you'll excel at this. Now come here, we can cuddle and snack on some of the crisps I swiped from the kitchen!"

His boundless enthusiasm and unwavering faith in you, even when he doesn't fully understand the details, leaves you feeling a little less stuck. 

Robin 

As you explain your research question and methodology, Robin listens with rapt attention, her eyes never leaving yours. When you finish, she pauses thoughtfully before speaking.

"I think the only thing this study lacks is your confidence, dear Y/N," Robin says, chuckling lightly. Her words strike a chord within you - she has a way of cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Can I give you a hug?" you ask, feeling deeply grateful for her patience and wisdom. You know her insights have been invaluable, not just for this project, but for the whole crew.

Robin opens her arms widely and smiles at you. "Of course," she says, enveloping you in a warm embrace. At that moment, you feel the weight of your doubts and insecurities start to lift. Robin's faith in you is a precious gift, and it's exactly the encouragement you need to find the courage to complete your work and submit it.

Law 

You decide to explain your work to Law, hoping his keen analytical mind will provide valuable feedback. As you begin speaking, however, you can see his face growing increasingly impatient. He clenches his jaw, clearly struggling to hold back interrupting you.

When you finally finish, Law wastes no time in his critique. "I think the structure is off, Y/N. I don't understand why you chose this theoretical framework, and I'm lost - did you even have a research question?"

You gulp, suddenly realizing you may have forgotten to explicitly state your core research question. Law's piercing gray eyes have a way of making it difficult to maintain focus.

Seeing your flustered expression, Law sighs. "How about you give me the paper to read, and I'll go over it with a red pen?" he offers.

You nod enthusiastically, immediately moving to retrieve the document. "Not now!" Law interjects, grabbing your arm before you can turn away. A mischievous smile plays on his lips beneath his white hat.

"It may not be the best study," he admits. "But the way you've explained it, showcasing your intelligence, has left me wanting more."

Zoro

Falls asleep immediately. Despite your best efforts to engage him, Zoro remains unresponsive, his gentle snoring the only indication that he's still present. You continue talking, but it's clear you're essentially just speaking to yourself at this point.

In a way, Zoro has become the most authentic "rubber duckie" of all - the perfect listener, oblivious to the intricacies of your work, but providing a soothing presence nonetheless.

Sanji 

As you dive into the details of your research, you can't help but notice the adoring way his eyes are fixed on you. It's clear that Sanji is enamored, and would likely listen with rapt attention no matter what you chose to talk about.

You continue your explanation, confident that Sanji is absorbing every word, even if he may not fully grasp the intricacies of your work. When you finally conclude, Sanji erupts into enthusiastic applause.

"That was amazing, Y/N!" he exclaims, his face alight with genuine admiration. "You've done such an incredible job with this research. I'm in awe of your brilliance!"

You can't help but sigh, knowing that Sanji's feedback, while well-intentioned, isn't exactly the critical analysis you were hoping for. But as you look into his sincere, shining eyes, you also feel a sense of pride and relief.

Even if you haven't quite overcome your writer's block yet, having someone so genuinely praise your hard work feels like a reward in itself.

Eustass Kid

As you begin explaining the details of your research to Eustass Kid, it's immediately clear that he has little patience or interest in the topic. His brows are furrowed in what can only be described as an annoyed scowl, and he fidgets restlessly in his seat.

Despite his clear disinterest, however, Kid sits through your entire presentation, never once interrupting or trying to leave. You can't help but appreciate the fact that he's making the effort to listen, even if he doesn't seem to understand or care about the intricacies of your work.

When you finally conclude, Kid simply yawns and cocks his head to the side.

"So what's the problem with all this?" he asks, his tone bordering on disinterested. "Sounds like a solid piece of work to me."

You sigh, explaining to him once again that you feel stuck and unsure if you've done a good job. You're hoping for constructive feedback, but it's clear Kid isn't the right person to provide that.

Suddenly, Kid reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you forcefully towards his chest. You can feel the warmth radiating from his skin as his low voice speaks calmly.

"You're asking the wrong guy about this, Y/N," he says. "I can't tell you if any of the things you did for this research make sense. But if you're struggling right now, I know a way to make you feel better..."

You blush as you realize the implication behind his words, and without further thought, you give in. Perhaps a brief break from your studies, spent in the comforting embrace of someone who cares for you, is exactly what you need to recharge and tackle the problem with a fresh perspective.

[gaytamorfosi]

What effect does this have on you?

🇬🇧 ("Che effetto ti fa?" Versione Inglese)

A frightening sense of dizziness won't let me be on this sultry August morning. A small taste of supernatural experience, it lasted a handful of minutes and it was enough. There's no turning back from something like this. That scene repeats itself incessantly before my eyes, my stomach churns and I feel like I'm lacking oxygen, like I'm on the verge of fainting. It is not a fleeting sensation, but a prolonged one, which has clouded my mind for hours while the room seems to slowly turn on itself. 

I met Dario thanks to a mutual friend. I couldn't believe that a person with fantasies so similar to mine lived near me. For years I had considered my kinks as an absolutely private and intimate thing, not thinking that I would ever find someone with my same tastes who understood me fully. When I saw Dario, I was pleasantly surprised: he was very handsome, definitely out of my league. Gathering courage, I asked him out. I don't think a bald, overweight bear like me has much of a chance with a guy with a perfect body like Dario, but considering we had several things in common, I thought it was a great opportunity and stepped forward. I was surprised when he said yes; maybe I had a small chance with him. 

Last night we went out together and had a wonderful evening. Time flew by and in an instant we found ourselves alone in my house. It was too good to be true. I asked myself if we would have sex, fearing I was rushing things too much: I didn't want to waste this precious opportunity; I really like him a lot. 

“We ended up not talking about our fantasies,” he said. “What would you do if you were faced with a person who was actually capable of changing their appearance and becoming someone else?” I had never asked myself this question. "It's a hot fantasy, but I have no idea on how I would react in reality," I replied. At that point, Dario began to undress. I remained a few meters away, surprised and embarrassed. Left with only a pair of shorts on, Dario sank into the armchair and his massive, virile body began to shrink and rejuvenate. In a few seconds he had become a guy who was about twenty years old. I had dreamed of a scene like that many times, but living it was something else entirely. I was speechless in front of that impossible scene. "Don't you like Thomas?" he asked, reading the confusion in my eyes. "He's an English TikToker, as handsome as he is useless and arrogant."

That Thomas wasn't really my type, but I couldn't deny that he was a hot guy. In any case, all that came out of my mouth was an awkward, meaningless babble, and then silence fell. I hadn't yet wrapped my mind around the transformation when Dario's appearance changed again, this time replicating mine, in every way. The only difference was that Dario was standing there wearing only his shorts and with his legs wide open. "What effect does this have on you?" he asked. Once again I didn't know how to respond: it was a scenario I had never even imagined. A sense of excitement mixed with euphoria pervaded me. I had never found myself particularly attractive, but Dario's attitude in my body made it exciting, against all odds. Even before my head could make sense of all this, my body started sending me clear signals: seeing my self-confident copy made me hard. Like a mirror, Dario began to get excited in the same way, while smiling smugly. 

I wonder what turned me on... The transformation itself? My reflection? The idea that someone could find me attractive enough to take my shape? I only know that when Dario got up from the chair and his lips touched mine, it was as if the world began to spin in reverse. From that moment on, nothing was the same as before; my heart remained in that room and Dario, by leaving, took with him every possibility of reasoning in a clear and coherent way, leaving me in this state. I never wanted to let him go again, but he promised he'd be back: "I just started rocking your world," he said before disappearing through the door.

[your-nanas-house]

She could be my "woman"

◇ Pairing: Robert Fisher X fem!Reader/ (future Robert Fischer X android!Reader)

◇ Warnings: angst, androids, security, fear, business, robots as "slaves"

◇ Summary: Robert fears for his safety and tries his luck with Y/n's business.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. FINALLY wrote the first part of the fic I mentioned months ago!

Robert chuckled at that.

"What is this, a movie?" he mocked, trying to lighten the mood, his light eyes staring at the old woman in front of him as if she was nuts.

He called her that day for a specific reason... his security and now she was talking about some weird futuristic stuff.

"I thought we were talking about a security system, not personal assistants!" He reminded her slightly annoyed by the situation.

When he didn't receive a response, he tried again with a softer tone this time.

"I can see why your granddaughter would need someone to try this out," he started, rubbing his chin with his long fingers, "...But I can hardly be her test case.... I can't believe androids are that advanced."

The disbelief of the young man was understandable and the older woman got perfectly Robert's point of view but was still a bit offended by the lack of trust in her... after all the years she had worked with his father.

"You're underestimating my granddaughter, dear. I tested them out as well...they do anything and if someone tries to enter your dreams they come inside as well working as your bodyguard there too" she informed him with a soft nod.

Security and assistance, Robert thought not believing at a word.

He raised his eyebrow surprised by the informations but still with the feeling of being made fun of. "This has to be a joke," he said, shaking his head.

"Your granddaughter created androids that protect you even in your dreams? I've heard some insane things in my life but that tops the cake."

And as words of mockery left his mouth he couldn't help but imagining it happen to him... Having someone watching over him even in his most vulnerable moments... it wouldn't be so bad.

After a couple of minutes in silence the older woman spoke again, her shaking and wrinkly hands put a note on his rich desk

"Think about it, if you need more information just call my granddaughter, she will be able to explain everything to you."

It wasn't a bad idea after all.

Robert looked down at the card in his hand, sighing. He had hoped to convince the older wise woman to work with him as well, but this was a nice alternative.

And as soon as she left his office he grabbed his phone, he read the number and then dialed it.

He couldn't waste any precious time and luckily for him, he didn't have to wait much.

A female voice replied after just a couple of rings, introducing herself as 'Y/n Y/l/n' exactly as he expected. She sounded calm and young.. probably in her 20s, her tone made him feel at ease and it was quite charming even though a bit awkward.

"Good morning, miss. I'm Robert Fischer... I had a meeting with your grandmother today and she gave me your number. I'll put my hands forward and tell you that I don't really believe in all this, it seems excessive and not very functional to me but... I have nothing to lose so I'm willing to try, and even if it is a scam, I'm pretty sure I could deal with it very easily. If you know what I mean..." Robert informed her with a calm tone, his hand busy playing around with his pen as his face remained tilted and rested against the back of his chair... serious as his business mask.

It was business after all, he needed some kind of security around him and the guarantee of being 100% safe every day.

"But I would like to know more about this androids" he quickly added after not receiving an answer, his heart strangely beating fast in his chest and his hand sweated anxiously

"Oh, sure thing. I can do that, are there any specific questions? Or would you like to receive the policy first?" the voice replayed softly, echoing now in his empty office.

He could actually hear her moving around, probably working or getting ready for something in a rush... not that he cared though.

At the questions Robert sat up in his seat, his grip tightened around the pen as he thought quickly before dropping it on the desk and let his light blue eyes travel towards the phone.

"I want to know everything. Starting from how they work, what they can do, where they come from and most importantly... how protected I am with them watching over me" The business man listed while staring intently at the object as if it would make Y/n reply faster at everything.

There was a soft music in the background, he could hear it, even if a bit muffled, and his mind focused on it, snapping back just when her voice interrupted the melody with her owns

"Well first of all I won't tell you how I created them. I'm not stupid, am I? They can do anything you want them to, they come from my cellar" she informed with a soft chuckle after apologizing and explaining to him the reason of the background noises.

"You are 99,9% protected, they have the ability to watch over you whenever you need or don't need. Not in a creepy way of course. They have the ability to enter your dreams if someone else does, so that they can protect you.... They are also loyal to their owners and you can set the program you prefer. There are a lot of different androids... each one more adapt for a situation" she explained with a more focused and professional tone, her knowledge and passion for her creations showing just by the seriousness of her speech.

She made it sound pretty acceptable and intriguing, leaving Robert silent for a moment, still and lost in his thoughts as he took in the informations. He honestly wasn't expecting such a comprehensive answer from her.

"They sound like the perfect companions," the man said, making an attempt at joking before asking her other questions, his hands already turning on his laptop

"What kind of androids are there, where can I purchase them and what sort of program do you suggest should be installed in them?"

It really was catching his interest, even if he didn't really believe in all the progress the science was doing lately... but he still was willing to try.

"Well... They are like puppies, Mr. Fisher. Like pets, without need to care too much for them. And it's highly depends on your situation and what I have down here." She explained while probably pouring herself a cup of something.

A moment of silence and Robert hummed lost in thoughts again, surprised and amused by Y/n's analogy.

"I'm glad that I won't have to worry about them too much," he murmured, rubbing his chin "And I'll happily take a look at what you have available. My main concern is my dreams, so what do you suggest to deal with that?" He murmured out, leaning back to stare at the ceiling and glance at the phone... she wasn't answering anymore but he could feel that she was thinking intently.

Then... her harsh words of truth came out "Your voice sounds lonely, you are probably sitting in a rich office, playing with something in your hand while you talk to me— I want to try to give you my first invention" the young woman declared cheerfully, making sure he didn't took her analysis as an insult before starting to explain again.

"I'm pretty proud of her. And I will make sure to deliver everything as soon as the payment is done also I'm sending you the contract so that you know that whatever the android sees it will remain between you and them" the young woman quickly stated, ready to say goodbye and hang up.

It was convincing... enough to bewitch Robert and his business mind, which was now fully engaged, even though a part of him was still cautious.

He wasn't really sure about allowing someone else to intrude so deep in his personal space and in such a little time. "How do I know that the androids and their recordings will remain private? What if they witness something... embarrassing or something that should remain fully private?" The man asked lowly, tapping his fingers against the rich wood of his desk.. he couldn't and didn't want to afford a scandal.

"I make you sign the contract because of that. I have no intention to look through all the memory. I just delete everything when their work it's done" Y/n reassured him sweetly with a soft chuckle, giving her availability 24 hours a day, 7 days a week in case of questions or problems.

Robert considered it all in silence, weighing his options carefully. On one hand, he was still hesitant about sharing his space with these things.

But on the other hand, they would be guarding his dreams, which was exactly what he needed. And their "mother" seemed trustworthy enough to make him take things further.

"I want to see the contract first," he stated thoughfully, adding after a small break of suspance "If I like its terms, I'm ready to sign."

And she already did, everything was in his laptop now. So Robert checked his emails, finding the contract attached.

He opened the PDF with a single click and began reading, his eyes scanning each word for any potential loopholes or hidden meanings.

After a few minutes of reading, he let out a sigh and printed it out, signing it before scanning it and sending it back to her along with a brief message:

"I agree to the terms, please start the installation as soon as possible. RF"

Since their call had ended just a couple of minutes before he could have finished to read it all.

Afyer that, the proceedings began and the young woman asked him a couple of personal questions, plus an address before reporting to him the date and the hour of the delivery.

'To: Robert Fischer, NYC'

Android n. 0.0'

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura Haruno fic recs: ANBU ROOT

It only feels right to make my ROOT list now since I posted my ANBU fic list! Similarly to the shadow corps, ROOT had so much wasted potential it actually saddens me. Kishimoto had so many great ideas in Naruto that he just never fully fleshed out and it's a shame. One thing in specific is the whole Torune and Shino situation. Two words: wasted potential!!! It could've been so good and really developed on Shino (and the Aburame clan).

Anyway, once again since our knowledge on the stories and workings of ROOT are limited, this allows for some pretty interesting interpretations. Also, I actually saw an interesting comment the other day about how Sakura would've been a good candidate for the program because of her chakra control and lack of family influence in Konoha and I honestly have to agree. I might be a bit biased, but whatever. Enjoy some root!Sakura recs!

Also, try out my ANBU list (some overlap).

Started: 2024.08.13

Last Updated: 2024.12.19

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

----

The Small Postures - Celenier || ao3 || T || kakasaku || canon divergence || incomplete

Sakura acts as a spy for Tsunade when Danzo takes an interest in her. While earning her place in ANBU Root, she discovers her own path to greatness. She learns grim secrets about how her village operates, makes terrible enemies, and begins to appreciate the extent of her fractured personality.

The Small Postures was oddly disturbing to me... After Shikamaru is approached for ROOT, it's decided by the higher ups that someone more expendable should infiltrate to take the division down. Sakura is the chosen one, but at what cost? With Kakashi acting as her contact and her only confidant on the matter, how will this affect their relationship? Truth be told, I haven't gotten far enough for any sort of romance, so I have no comments there, but this fic is very well written and quite ominous at times.

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Black Bough - Re_Adrienne || ao3 || unrated || gen || root AU || ongoing

Sakura's parents are civilians.

It does not spare them.

In which Sakura forgets, Sai pretends, and Kakashi can't tell if he's failing the mission.

I really love this fic! Sakura joins ROOT just before her graduation after her parent's death and it's there she meets Sai. Years later the two of them are extracted by Kakashi and she is put under his watch as she readjusts. Part of the struggle is the known fact that she was supposed to be a member of Team 7, which causes some drama (?). There's some super interesting ROOT lore going on and I always have a soft spot for Sai and Sakura friendships!!

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Five Kingdoms for the Dead - Evil Is A Relative Term || ffn || M || canon divergence || complete

After the Forest of Death, Sakura comes to realize that being weak is no longer an option. However, she finds that change is sometimes painful and that truth doesn't always come easy. Luckily, she'll have some help along the way.

It's been a hot minute since I've read Five Kingdoms for the Dead, but I'm fairly certain there is some ROOT stuff going on in here! Nonetheless, this is a great fic with some really interesting worldbuilding.

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Trials of Change - Espoiretreves || ao3 || gen || time travel AU || complete

Haruno Sakura made a promise. Looking in the eyes of her Shisou and the reanimated Hokage, she took on the most important mission of her life. Go back in time and try to prevent the 4th Shinobi War. Now, Sakura is back to her 5-year-old body, with all the knowledge and haunting memories of the future. She vows to keep her precious people safe and stop certain events from happening, without altering the timeline too much. The trials her emotions and logic put her through have her questioning her very existence, but for the sake of peace, she has to push forward. No matter what.

Trials of Change is actually apart of a time travel series and I have to say that it is probably one of the best of the genre! This fic is the first of a series and the main focus is ROOT and taking down Danzo. I really adore all of the worldbuilding and backstories going on here in addition to the fact that there are breaks. Yes, the story keeps moving, but there are other things going on, like playdates, and not just Sakura trying to save the world. Also, if you love Shisui then definitely check this out since he has a huge role and his and Sakura's friendship is just so precious.

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cut the head off the snake - itsthechocopuff || ao3 || T || time travel AU || incomplete

when eighteen-year-old, post-war Sakura is thrown back into her tiny, pre-Academy body, she makes a decision. she'd had a childhood once already, and this time, she's more interested in Not Dying when the inevitable shit hits the proverbial fan. so she will work harder, care less, kill more, and smile when she's done.and hey, if she ends up reviving an extinct nature transformation to attract the most corrupt, power-hungry man from her timeline, all the better for her, right?

Such a unique take on a time travel AU and Cut the Head Off the Snake executes it perfectly. Sakura decides that her first order of business is to infiltrate ROOT and that's exactly what she does. Sai, Shin, and Shisui are all great characters and team Ro is present as well. Very good!

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In Another World - eleventheeggo || ao3 || gen || T || orphan Sakura AU || ongoing

What if Sakura was an orphan instead of Naruto and Sasuke?A story about a socially stunted girl who has a thirst for knowledge and is surrounded by softies who love her all the same.

Orphan!Sakura is not something I knew I needed in my life! She is so precious and it's great to watch all of these characters come together for her sake. In Another World also discusses ROOT a bit, which you know I love, so I can't wait for the story to get there.

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Rooted - theRazorofOccam || ffn || T || gen || canon divergence || incomplete

In a universe where Sakura takes a wrong turn, she misses out on the apprenticeship with Tsunade, instead getting recruited by a very different mentor. Life turns out very differently from there on, as she takes the path of a very different kind of ninja. Updates on weekends, unless otherwise stated.

I can't remember too much, but it occurs during the time skip between og and shippuden. At a loss of what to do after her rejection from Tsunade, Sakura decides to join Danzo's program with hopes of becoming a better shinobi.

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parsley seed goes nine times to the devil - Mook_aron || ao3 || M || gen || root AU || one-shot complete

Slow to grow, quick to sprout, parsley seed goes nine times to the devil When she’s six, a man murders her family. The man is tall, and his features are burned into her mind. She won’t forget him- she won’t let herself forget him. Root Sakura au

Sakura is taken into ROOT at a young age and is assigned a mission to infiltrate team 7. Spoilers ig, but Sakura ends up telling Kakashi and what happens from there is sorta open ended. Great story

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I Watched a Change in You - YuffiesNinjaInsanity || ao3 || unrated || narusaku || time travel AU || ongoing

Naruto’s lying across from her, still bleeding out and with his lifeless blue eyes staring at her.

“It’s’kay, Naru.. be joining… you both soon.” She croaks.

Sakura gets sent back in time to a universe where everything is peaceful? She comes from a place where after Danzo's succession to the Hokage title, everyone is ordered to take up ROOT training and so adjusting back to a normal team proves difficult. Tbh, I found this fic kinda frustrating at times, but it's still pretty good.

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Hang Them Up (To Make Them Bleed) - classical_mess || ao3 || T || gen || root AU || one-shot complete

Sakura always used to think a lot of her career as a ninja, but she never thought she'd up here.

Fairly interesting one-shot where Sakura is recruited by Danzo after getting rejected as Tsunade's student. She spends some time in ROOT and Kiba helps her get out. This is on the moments leading up to Danzo's trial. I also quite liked how Tenten was helping out with the seal.

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Sakura - lilac haze || ffn/ao3 || M || minasaku || time travel AU || complete

AU. Non-Canon. Time Travel. Please see inside for full warnings. Cross posted on Ao3. On his deathbed he was granted eternal peace and place to rest for all of time. Of course that was not appealing to him. Ever unpredictable to the end he had a counter offer. One that the Sage had to consider. In which Sakura's going to have a rough time. A really rough time.

I cannot believe that I forgot to add this fic when I initially published my ROOT list!!! Anyway, really good time travel fic with a doomed romance between Minato and Sakura. You watch them, well, Sakura, grow from a young child to an adult and all of the trouble and tragedy that comes her way. Pretty interesting and dark ROOT stuff going on in here.

Check TWs before hand!!

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Anyway, that's all for now!

[mydeareid]

Until I found you ✦ Chapter 1

Spencer Reid x female!reader

summary: you became best friends when both of you needed it the most. life circumstances separeted you, but once again, destiny reunites you.

genre: fluff, angst, comfort.

word count: 1698

warnings: NOT TOTALLY PROOF READ. at the very beginning the characters are underage. besides that, i think there aren’t other warnings. please let me know if i'm missing one :)

note: hi! i'm @evanpetersmybf but different haha. i've been wanting to write for my spence and i finally had the chance to. i love him. i'm trying my best to keep him on character! also, sorry if there are any mistakes, english isn't my first language. i hope you enjoy it!

1998.

A tiny spark of sunshine peeked through the clouds. It was winter, and even though the sun was out, the air was cold as expected. Every exhale left a white trail dissolving in the icy breeze. Because of this, the park didn’t have many visitors, only some couples, a few families, and Spencer.

He loved the weather and the atmosphere. The peace of the calm environment felt comforting. Being surrounded by nature was simply beautiful; the way the leaves swayed, the sensation of the wind hitting his face and reddening his nose, the feeling of having a moment for himself was wonderful. His hands were shoved in his pants pockets as he walked down the pavement. The boy was probably freezing, but he didn’t care—it was such a nice day and he wanted to spend some time alone.

He clearly needed a break. For a long time, he had been taking care of his mother. He deeply loved her, without question. Much of what he knew, he owed to her, but being her caregiver from a young age had taken its toll, more than he would like to admit.

After walking for about ten minutes, he sat on a wooden bench in front of a frozen lake. Just when he was about to relax, someone took a seat next to him.

“Such a pretty noon, right?”

Spencer was startled by the way you broke the ice. He never expected that someone would sit right next to him out of nowhere, especially a complete stranger. He pressed her lips together and looked around. Perhaps you were talking to someone else, although when he saw no one nearby, his eyes landed on you. Torn between deciding whether to respond or not, he finally muttered a reply.

“Sure. it’s mesmerizing”.

Seconds passed as you pulled out a small notebook and a pencil. You began sketching the landscape while you hummed a song: Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson.

The man’s face showed an expression of doubt and curiosity. Why did you seem so comfortable sitting with a random person?

“I’m not trying to be rude, but do I know you?” As he spoke those words, his fingers were fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater. He was nervous. What if you were a bully? Or even worse, a thief?

“Nope, we don’t know each other. But you seemed cool… And this is the best view of the lake. I needed it for my drawing”. You put down the pencil and faced Reid, giving him the sweetest grin you could. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done. And I’m sorry if I made ya’ uncomfortable”.

Spencer shook his head and his lips formed a small yet sincere smile. “It’s okay”.

Later, when you finished your art, you turned the page and sighed. “Can I draw you?”

Once again, he was flabbergasted by something related to you. It was weird for him to experience kindness or attention like this. After years of bullying, he wasn’t used to spending time with people his age. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. Eventually, he nodded.

You wasted no time and soon you made an accurate Spencer’s portrait. When you were done, you handed it to him. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you! You’re a great model”.

Reluctantly, Spencer took the paper with his slender fingers, his eyes fixed on the precious gift. He couldn’t believe someone had been friendly towards him. Usually, people mocked him for his appearance, his lack of social skills, and other quirks he had.

“Did you know paper was created in ancient China in 105 A.C.?” He was going to continue rambling, but quickly stopped, raising his hand as if to halt himself. “I… I’m sorry, sometimes I ramble. I’m Spencer. Thank you… For the drawing. It’s amazing”.

“Why are you apologizing? It’s always great to learn something new!”

The way you sounded so cheerful, so gentile, warmed his heart. People usually rolled their eyes and asked him to stop when he rambled, but you didn’t. This was new. So new that he didn’t even know how to react.

Nevertheless, you kept talking, and he kept listening, replying when you asked and when he had anything to say, and including some curious facts when he had the chance. Hours went by and you shared more about each other. You discovered that you were both seventeen, that he loved classical music and soap operas, that he graduated high school at twelve, and that he adored Doctor Who, Star Wars, and Star Trek. And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship—a bond neither of you expected but both desperately needed.

To Spencer, you were an angel, an oasis in the desert, a warm blanket in winter and a refreshing lemonade in summer. He knew that he could count on you and made sure you knew you could count on him as well.

1999.

After four months of knowing each other, sometimes, he went to your place when he felt more lonely than usual; when it happened, he’d spend the night at your house as if it were a sleepover, or at least that’s how you used to call it.

Your sleepovers consisted of listening to music: The Beatles, Michael Jackson, ABBA, Queen, The Cardigans, Bonnie Tyler, Kate Bush, The Police, among others. It also included reading a book or tackling school topics you struggled with—Spencer was your human encyclopedia.

During one of those spring nights, you and Spencer were on the sofa watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch, your pick for the evening.

“Oww, Salem is so cute. I wish I had a cat”. You said wistfully.

“Did you know that if a cat owner were to die at home and the body remained undiscovered, the cat could begin to eat the owner’s remains within a few days? Studies suggest that this behavior isn’t due to malice but rather survival instincts kicking in once the food supply runs out. It’s fascinating—” Spencer blurted out in his usual rapid speech, but stopped info dumping when he saw your jaw drop and the look of shock on your face.

“I didn’t know that. Now I don’t want cats, thank you very much”. You replied, half-laughing, half-horrified.

The genius smirked and let out a small laugh. It was fun to tease you that way—it was common for him to say unsettling facts about random stuff to annoy you.

Afterward, you decided it was time for your regular music ritual. Your playlist included songs like: Boys Don’t Cry, Cheri Cheri Lady, Take on Me, Running Up That Hill, Lovefool, Creep, Forever Young, and so on.

“Why are we friends, Y/N? People normally dislike me… Why not you? I’m strange, I’m a weirdo. I don’t understand”. Spencer mumbled while Fade Into You by Mazzy Star played softly in the background. He was anxious to hear your answer. Deep down, he theorized you felt pity for him and that was the unique reason why you accepted him in your life.

“You’re special, Spence. You’re charming and lovely. It’s rare to know people like you, y’know? So smart and with so much to offer. And why would you say you’re strange? You’re Spencer Reid. You’re you. You’re an amazing person. And if being ‘strange’ is part of that, then I like it. I like you just the way you are. And you should like yourself too, Einstein”. You smiled and grabbed his left hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Sometimes I wish you could see yourself the way I do. I hate it when you talk poorly about yourself”.

You didn’t need to look at him to know he was blushing furiously. His brain stopped working when he listened to your enchanting reply. You were the friend he was waiting for since the day he was born. And he wasn’t planning to let you go.

When you finally got tired and sleepy, you drifted off on Spencer’s shoulder and he did the same, resting his head on yours. The music kept playing, and by the time you were peacefully asleep, Every Breath You Take was filling the room.

The scene was endearing; Spencer and you looked adorable and cozy like that, and that’s why your mother decided to take a Polaroid of both of you and made sure to hide it, so you’d never know the existence of that picture.

Months went on. The dynamic between both of you remained the same.

You were there for him when he decided to place Diana, his mom, in a mental institution. That was one of the hardest choices Spencer ever made. He would often feel guilty, that’s why he started to send her letters everyday, and also because he couldn’t visit her frequently. As a result, the now eighteen-year-old began to spend entire days at your home. He even spent the next Christmases and New Years with you and your family, until he turned twenty-one and he moved to Washington.

For a year, you stayed in touch via phone calls and letters, until one day he stopped writing to you and stopped taking your calls.

2003.

The last thing you knew about him is that he was admitted into the FBI as a profiler, and since then, he completely vanished from your life.

His sudden ghosting hurt you like a hundred stabs would. You persisted in trying to reach him, but after countless failed attempts, you gave up. Years ago, you both swore you were soulmates, that nothing would separate you. Now, it seemed like an empty promise.

Spencer’s reasons for disappearing were unclear to you, and at some point, you stopped wanting to know. In reality, he had done it to protect you. He was conscious of the dangers of his new job and didn’t want to risk your safety nor make you worry about him. He knew you very well and knew you would always be concerned about his well-being. He didn’t want to be a burden. Maybe he didn’t make the best decision, but if he had spoken to you one more time, he would’ve never been able to let you go.

[olderthannetfic]

re: /747330342209404928/ every time a discussion about tagging conventions comes up, there's a lot of scoffing in the notes. People like to make snide remarks about readers being "too sensitive" and needing to "toughen up."

I don't think readers are too sensitive. I thing readers just don't want authors to waste their time.

When a fic author tags inconsistently, my concern is not that I will be traumatized by their story. I'm not worried about getting triggered. I'm worried about being bored and disappointed. I'm worried about wasting minutes or even hours of my precious leisure time doing something I ultimately derive no enjoyment from.

I base how I tag my AO3 stories on two simple principles:

People who would enjoy my story should be able to find it in a search.

People who would not enjoy my story should be able to exclude it from a search.

I don't understand people who talk about reading fanfiction as if it's some kind of character building exercise. I don't understand authors who talk about their fic like it's supposed to teach readers a lesson. It's not a training module. It's a piece of entertainment media.

--

I'm opposed to overtagging because it leads to too many false positives, yes.

[mementoshay]

I read in a document saying that you are longer going to be involved with anything to do with Hazbin ever again, is that correct? If so, why?

Hello there, I will answer with my own experience.

Keep in mind, however, that the fact that a friend died in the name of this show is already reason enough for me to not want to hear about it again, if only to preserve my own sanity.

For now, the only one who still somewhat engages with the fandom is Eden. I think the reason is that she made many friends along the way in the years she took an active part in the fandom (all the way from before the pilot I think, so many years), and can't quite cut the cord yet.

I, on the other hand, came along after the pilot and belonged to the HuskerDust "side" because of the Instagrams. I'm gonna admit I loved their banter and seeing Angel flirt with him with Husk acting like he didn't care, when he actually did. I found it cute. And also the way Angel blushed in the pilot when Husk was introduced.

I did know about the Hunicasts and about the interactions between Ed Bosco and Michael Kovach (Alastor and Angel's old VAs) on stream, and I found them amusing although not as endearing as the Instagram interactions between Angel and Husk.

I was fully aware though that these streams were the ground upon which the pilot (and fandom) was built, and the "RadioDust" ship carried the whole thing for years before anything was even produced. If you even typed "Hazbin Hotel" or "Alastor" or "Angel Dust", they were the thing that would come up on Google first.

What I liked about it all, however, was the passion and "camaraderie" this whole thing came with. There was passion from the VAs, there was passion from the writers, there was passion from the fans themselves. The fan created so much content it's insane. Every single fan awaited the arrival of the show for so long it was absolutely wonderful to see every character move when the show was announced.

We all believed in this project, it was amazing.

Yet, fast forward to the winter of 2023, my "side" of the fandom became increasingly aggressive. They wrote callout posts, leading to ship and content wars. They expected and almost demanded that the ship would be canon, because of an endless list of clues they collected over the years. And when the ship was confirmed to be 'endgame' the self-entitlement went from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye. It was beyond insane.

Seeing the way my "side" could as much as maul people on other "sides" (may it be RadioDust, ValDust, RadioHusk, NifftyHusk, you name it, as long as there's either Angel or Husk in the equation) already made me grimace a little. When all that happened, I was taken aback.

Then, Shay died. And with all the names involved in the fact (which I won't name) that I really looked up to and followed for years, I felt sick to my stomach. I unfollowed them all and took a break from everything.

All I was hoping for was a show about redemption, with fun shenanigans between a bunch of misfits... instead we got drama after drama, ship war fuel directly from up above, and a dead fan.

I still watched the show when it came out, but I felt utterly disappointed by it. Extremely poor pacing, terrible writing with bits and pieces completely useless to the plot, characters that no longer feel like what they were advertised as (e.g Husk, Alastor or Cherri Bomb) and an overall waste of precious minutes for such a short runtime. I felt a bit betrayed as well, given the amount of time we all waited since we saw these characters on screen.

But worst of it all, the passion that fueled the original plan was completely gone, as well as the camaraderie we lived with for so long. And a friend, who dedicated time, money and passion is now dead for this.

There is to say that every community is made out of people that should be taken individually. I can name plenty that would never ever wish what has occurred to Shay and that still belong to what was my "side" of the fandom. But I can also name plenty that to this day still shout death threats over different ships and opinions.

Things change, of course. For me, they didn't change for the better. And neither did for Shay.

So you'll understand if I don't wish to be involved not hear about Hazbin Hotel (or HuskerDust for that matter) again.

Thanks for your question!

- Liv

[blue--ingenue]

"Evasive Maneuvers" - Part 6

Read the next part

Summary: You've been in love with Sebastian since the moment you knocked him on his arse on your first day. Entering your sixth year, you finally begin working up the courage to confess your feelings when he suddenly becomes the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in decades - and subsequently becomes the school's most eligible bachelor.

Author's Notes: *shakes this chapter like a jar of dog biscuits* besties, i'm so sorry for the little hiatus, but as usually summer college classes were kicking my ass 🫠 my last finals are tomorrow, and then i need to speedrun packing for my dorm etc.... i also really wanted to do this chapter justice, so it was written and rewritten at least five times before i decided on the final draft. anyway, back to our (ir)regularly scheduled Slytherin himbo

The second he loses sight of her in the swarm of students he really starts to panic. He starts pushing his way through the crowd toward the last spot he saw her, but it’s by far easier said than done. Imelda calls out for him to come back for the usual post-game debrief, but he shouts an excuse over his shoulder about going to the hospital wing. She could be anywhere, and he’s wasting precious time. Sebastian doesn’t think he was nearly this panicked when he plummeted toward the ground mere minutes ago. He stops, exasperated, and surveys the crowd. 

Fuck it. 

He hastily mounts his broom and yanks the handle upward. Hard. It’s possibly the fastest he’s ever taken off and the crowd beneath him cheers as he shoots upward and forward. As soon as he clears the quidditch pitch he’s scanning the grounds for a trace of her homemade quidditch jersey. The thought of her putting so much time and effort into the garment, all in support of him, forces a fresh stab of guilt between his ribs. His broom seems to sense his urgency and accelerates on its own. God, he’s such an ass. She’s never been anything short of kind to him, far kinder than he probably deserves, and he’s spent the last few days thinking nothing but the worst of her. No, he realizes with a jolt, not even the worst. 

He’s been seething over the thought of her enjoying Weasley’s company. Merely being happy in his presence. Nothing malicious or untoward or even anything to do with him. Every new realization pricks him with equal measures of mortification and hope. How was he going to explain his recent actions without revealing his true feelings to her? He had no idea. At this point his one-track mind was focussed purely on finding her. He’d figure out the rest once he was sure no more tears adorned her face. Is this the type of bloke he was? So jealous that he’d rather cause pain than face it? He considers asking Anne for advice on the whole situation, but he already knows what his better half would say: “Just tell her how you feel.”

He shakes the thought from his head. Impossible. He couldn’t face the possibility of losing her if she felt the same way. And if she did? What if he wasn’t good enough for her? After all the pain he’d caused her in fifth year, and now this, what if she was better off with someone like Weasley? She deserves someone who will treat her heart with care. Someone who won’t coerce her into risking her life for dark magic. Although Sebastian had been true to his word about relinquishing dark magic, the guilt of his actions remained. Sometimes, on particularly dark nights, he’d wake to the sound of her wails and pleas as her body convulsed next to the remains of Noctua Gaunt, his hand would shake as he channeled the pain directly into her veins. Other nights he’d grip the sheets in a cold sweat, his body safe in bed, but his mind bound to the darkest parts of him he’d worked to repress. He could still feel the phantom rush of power as he held the relic. His blood sang with power as the resurrected dead moved to his every whim. And there, at the center of it all, her. 

Terrified, resolute, courageous. Even as inferi clawed at her arms and Solomon appeared at the mouth of the cave, red with rage, she was still trying to save him. In his darkest of moments he wonders if he’d ever deserved saving at all. If she hadn’t knocked him unconscious, and if Anne’s curse hadn’t lifted as soon as Rookwood was destroyed, Sebastian knew he could’ve done a lot more damage. He knew he didn’t deserve her, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her. And oh, did he want her. She was radiant, inside and out. Even if she wasn’t the most beautiful witch he’d ever beheld, her heart and mind would enchant him all the same. She was always so quick to help others, so fearless in her every endeavor, it was a wonder she had any love left to give. She never failed to surprise him. She made him want to be a better man. She saw every flaw in his character, ran a gentle hand along every faultline in his heart and mended it with a selflessness rarer than the ancient magic gracing her person. 

Sometimes he wanted to grab hold of her, tender yet so very sincere, and remind her that she needed to save herself, too. He wouldn’t insult her intelligence by suggesting that she was ignorant of her own needs. But one time, just one time, he wished she would put her well being above others’. 

There was one question still nagging at the bag of his mind, a thread he had neither the time nor heart to unravel at the time. Why had she been so upset by his kissing Amelia? Was she perhaps still angry at him for ignoring her this morning? Why else would she - 

Oh, hell. 

It was impossible, no more than a pipe dream, but did she share his feelings? Why else would she have run away? He wanted more than anything to believe it, but what if he was wrong? He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he confessed his feelings and she didn’t feel the same, he could lose her. But if she did, she could lose herself. He knew from experience that she’d go to hell and back just to fetch him, but she shouldn’t have to. Despite his best efforts he’d found numerous ways to hurt her in the past year. She didn’t deserve him. She deserved better. And if she wouldn’t make that choice herself, well, he’d just have to make it for her. 

Sebastian was so lost in his thoughts he nearly missed the flash of green beneath him. Cursing himself, he circled back to her and flew lower. It was unmistakably her. His last name billowed as she walked quickly toward the castle. He descended rapidly, calling out her name and begging her to wait. She turned and their gazes connected. Even if she was angry with him he felt a glimmer of hope that at least he had a chance to fix things. He was so focussed on her, he didn’t realize he was about to fly right into a tree until she shouted a warning, but it was too late to stop. Branches whipped at his face, stinging as he plowed through the tree before his broom lodged between two trunks and he was thrown forward. He managed to latch onto the branch, narrowly avoiding a swift trip to the ground twenty feet below. For the second time that day the air was forced from his bruised lungs and he fought the urge to vomit. Despite the pain and mortification, Sebastian couldn’t help but feel that this was at least partially deserved. He heard creaking as the branches to his left shifted and he watched his broom plummet to the ground. Well, the handle landed first, and the brush followed a moment later. Great, he thought. Imelda was sure to give him an earful about this. 

A brighter spot of green obscured the remains of his broom, and she looked up at him. He could almost hear a crack shooting through his heart as he took in her appearance. Her tears had smeared the green and silver paint almost completely off her cheeks. Her eyes were red-rimmed and every sniffle sent her shoulders trembling. At this moment he would have let go and fallen to the ground immediately if it meant he could wipe the tears from her face. Did he even deserve to? What right did he have to cause her grief and then swoop in like some undeserving savior?

She wordlessly raised her hands and reached out as though to pluck him from the branches. Blue light arced from her hands as she channeled her ancient magic. Sebastian felt himself being gently extricated from the twigs and leaves before those same gentle blue tendrils lowered him to the grass before her. 

The pair stood still. The intensity of her gaze rivaled his, but neither took a step forward. The air felt heavy with implications, things still left unsaid. Say something! A voice screamed in his head. You made this whole bloody mess, so say something!

He took two steps toward her, and said, “I’m sorry.”

She made no move toward him, and if not for the near-imperceptible softening of her brow he might’ve thought she hadn’t heard him. “For what?”

The determined search of her gaze told him everything. They both knew what she was really asking. She was waiting for him to voice his feelings. To lay claim to every bit of stolen affection threaded through the moments they shared. He had to tell her. He needed to tell her, she deserved that much. He opened his mouth to speak and - 

“I like you!” he shouted. She startled at his panicked outburst and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. She looked at him, calculating and wary, before taking a step back. “Sebastian, you don’t have to say that simply because you feel guilty about-” he gave a frustrated groan and closed the distance between them in two determined strides. He frantically took her hands in his, held them gently, and whispered the truth he’d been so desperate to hide from. 

“That isn’t why. Please, you must know that isn’t why,” he pleaded. A stray tear remained on the apple of her cheek and he brushed it away with a tender swipe of his hand. He let his touch linger for a moment before drifting back to clasp her hands. “You occupy my every waking moment. Even in sleep I cannot escape the thought of you. Nor would I ever want to,” he declared. Her eyes searched for any hint of insincerity, but she didn’t pull away from him. Sebastian took that as a sign of encouragement and continued.  

“You are unlike any witch or wizard I have ever met. Kinder and braver than any soul I’ll ever meet, and my heart is irrevocably yours. You needn’t say anything, but know that it belongs to you. I’ve been a prick to you. I was selfish and scared and jealous, and I’m sorry for kissing Amelia. I won’t insult you by asking for forgiveness I know I don’t deserve, but you must know that I am yours, even if you want nothing to do with me.“

He finishes, breathless, and watches her. His brain is on fire and he’s pretty sure he’s run through the entire spectrum of human emotion in the last thirty seconds, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give her time to process everything he’s just thrown at her. He waits, and waits, and his palms begin to sweat. Shit. Was this the wrong time? Had he just royally fucked up whatever remained of their friendship? His gaze flicked up to her face, which had remained stoic beneath her runny makeup and the volley of emotion he had just flung at her. An agonizingly slow moment later she looked at him, really looked, as though for the first time, and she was livid.

There was fire in her eyes and blue magic arced from her fingertips. He took an instinctive step back as she leveled him with a stare rivaling the intensity of his own jackrabbiting heart. She swallowed thickly, and spoke.

“And how long,” she started, cocking her head. “How long have you felt this way?” He gulped. Was she going to hex him? Sebastian was sure he deserved it six ways to Sunday, but he would’ve at least liked more of a reaction to his confession before she blasted him to hell. 

“Since fifth year?” he squeaked. He actually squeaked. Good gods, this was mortifying. He thanked whoever was listening that at the very least Ominis wasn’t here to witness the whole ordeal. He answered like it was a question, when really this one of the only truths he knew in the core of his being to be true.

She took a step toward him, her mouth agape and eyes narrowed in confusion. Hysterically, he thought it was the same look she adopted when Professor Binns roused her from her nap to answer a question during lecture. He gulped. 

“Why on earth haven’t you said anything?!” she shrieked. He furrowed his brows and took a step closer to her. If she was going to immolate him, fine. For her he’d burn a thousand times. 

“Because I know you don’t feel the same!” He shouted frantically. “You don’t! You can’t, and you shouldn’t! I’ve been awful to you, and you deserve better!”

She held her face in her hands, exasperated and inhaling deeply, before throwing her hands up and shouting to the heavens, “Of course I feel the same!” She cried. “Merlin’s bloody balls, how thick can you get?!”

He stilled. He’s pretty sure his heart had stopped beating around the same time the air in his lungs froze over. “What?”

At his single syllable all the anger seemed to seep from her figure. She crossed her arms, the blue lightning dissipating as her chest heaved. When she spoke she was gentle, careful.

“Sebastian, did you truly not know?” Her eyes were pleading, searching his for answers he wasn’t sure he could provide.

He spluttered. She couldn’t feel the same. She didn’t…”You’ve never given any inclination. And I didn’t want to do anything untoward or unwanted…” he trailed off.

She laughed. Not a cruel, mocking sound like he probably deserved, but chiding. It wasn’t unlike the chuckles he heard from her when one of her puffskeins tried licking her when she wasn’t looking. 

“Sebastian bloody Sallow, I’ve been in love with you from the start. I don’t know how you could possibly think I don’t care for you, but please, banish the thought.” She declared softly. He suddenly realized how close they’d drifted. The red thread connecting his heart to hers always had a way of drawing them together. He looked down and she was nearly flush against his chest. Instinctively he drew his arms around her. Something sharp poked his chest and he brushed it aside. It was the necklace he’d given her. Within the gilded confines the stone glowed a deep, confident blue. A memory sparked somewhere in the back of his mind as he recalled the parchment the vendor had given him. Blue - truth.

He dropped the pendant as though it had burned him. She was telling the truth. She loved him, truly and completely, and he loved her the same. Everything he wanted was within his grasp, if only…If only he were someone more deserving. If only he were someone who could keep her safe and care for her in the ways she deserved. He looked down and her eyes were drifting closed. Just before they fluttered shut her gaze flickered to his lips. That’s funny, when had he started dipping his head toward her? His composure faltered - and good gods, no man could be strong enough for such temptation-

But he needed to be. Sebastian Sallow might not be the man she deserves, but he would be a man strong enough to keep her from making the mistake of choosing him. His eyes shot open and he pressed a gently finger to her lips. “Wait,” he whispered. She stilled and stopped. Gods, her lips were soft beneath his touch. And the way she was looking at him, with such open vulnerability, twisted the dagger he held to his own heart. She was confused, waiting for him to say something.

He released her and took a step back. And then another, and another. “We can’t. You can’t feel this way for me. I’ll only hurt you again, and you deserve better.” He broke her gaze hung his head. “So much better…”

When he looked up at her again, he almost wished he hadn’t. The tears were back, and this time her lip was trembling. He strode toward her, holding out his arms in comfort, but she held up a hand. It was trembling, and blue lightning crackled across her palm, but her voice was steady as she spoke. 

“Nobody makes my decisions for me. Nobody. You can tell me that you love me, or hate me, or anything in between. But you don’t get to stand there and tell me how I am meant to feel. If you don’t want me, then just say so. I deserve that much.”

Sebastian was truly and utterly speechless. He did want her, more than anything, but he couldn’t trust himself to keep her from harm on his behalf. He couldn’t draw her back into his arms knowing that he didn’t deserve her, but telling her that he didn’t want her? That would surely kill him. So he stood, silent, and said nothing at all.

As the seconds drew on, she seemed to take his lack of response as an answer all the same. She nodded her head once before stalking past him back to the castle, and he got one good look at the pendant as her shoulders shook with sobs. Black - anguish.

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Bonus Author's Note: besties, no matter how much you love someone, never let anyone make your decisions for you or tell you how you feel. you are irreplacable and nobody has the right to save you for later <3

Taglist: @snickette, @findingtruenorth23, @plooloo, @paganicher, @smilesworldsposts, @snoozebun, @crazyllamasurfer, @pixie-dustss, @margottheviking, @lollife1617, @milk-barrs-blog, @somethingiswrongwithme, @bleh-stupid, @stay-gray, @mrsbrookesallow, @lostgirl-28, @kateisnotheree, @doigettokeepyou, @dreamqueenkala, @uwuitzerimpact, @neoqueen306

[pedroshotwifey]

Favorite Bounty chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x afab!bounty!reader

Chapter word count: 7.3k

Chapter summary: Being on the run is harder than you thought...

Chapter tags/warnings: angst, canon-typical violence, cliffhangers bc I like chaos, stuff I'm forgetting

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so, so sorry this took so long to get out! I think I had gotten used to writing shorter fics, so doing a long chapter was just kind of a pain for me. I'm super happy to get this updated though. Gonna go ahead and say that this will likely be a short series with less than ten chapters purely because of the length of each one, but that's not set in stone. If this is your first time reading this series, there are four parts before this! <3

****

It’s easy to get lost in the crowd once you step off the Crest. Mando had landed fairly close to the open market but, unfortunately, a good bit away from the spaceport. You immediately get sucked into the throng of people browsing the shops, your heart pounding hard against your ribs. The only thought that settles your ridiculous pulse is that you must be pretty damn hard to find mixed in with this lot. Though, of course, you know Mando, and you know that if he really wanted to spot you, he would. Bounty hunting fucking bastard.

You can't help but look over your shoulder every couple of minutes. Each time you do so, you fully expect to see Mando trailing behind you, cuffs in hand. You choose to ignore the pang of hurt in your chest when you think about him—about how easily he betrayed you. It didn’t even seem like he gave it a second thought. You curse yourself for dwelling on the issue and shake your head. You can't afford to waste time on facts you have already accepted. 

You stumble as a man knocks into your shoulder, bringing you out of your thoughts and making you lose your balance. You narrowly miss running into a woman holding hands with a young boy as you struggle to keep yourself up. You flash her a sorry look in response to her dirty one. You really need to figure out where you’re supposed to be going. You’re unfamiliar with Nevarro’s layout so you have no idea what direction you should go.

You walk straight for a few minutes before you decide that isn’t going to get you anywhere. This part of the planet is so ridiculously congested that there's no point in even moving your feet if you don’t have a set path. There's no telling which way you might be swept. kriff, a few minutes from now, you might realize that you had been traveling in a circle, and hadn’t even noticed.

Deciding that you would like to avoid such a circumstance, you push your way out to the side of the crowd so you can find somewhere to get a better view. You have to be quick about it—you know you’re low on time as it is, you can’t waste precious seconds trying to figure out a game-plan. You need to come up with a quick and easy route in a quick and easy fashion. 

Fortunately, as you push your way out of the heated blob of people, you spot a building that looks easy enough to get on top of. It's not super high up, so you won’t attract any unwanted attention, but it’s just tall enough for you to be able to spot the space-port. 

You figure it’s the best plan you’re going to be able to think of for now, so you quickly scramble to the side of the building, stopping in front of the ladder that goes all the way up to the top. Grabbing the first wrung, you begin to climb up, glancing back every now and out of paranoia. Of course, Mando’s never there, but you can’t help but check just in case. 

On the roof, you find that it’s easy—just as you suspected—to spot the port over the thousands of people. You easily map out a path before rushing back down the ladder. It shouldn’t take too long to get to the port, most of the roads you picked out were clear of people for the most part. 

Once your feet are back on the ground, you take off toward the first turn in your plan. It looks pretty busy, but from here it should be smooth sailing.

You become part of the market crowd the second you turn onto the street. Your jaw drops at the sight of so many people in one place. And you had thought there had been a lot of people around the crest… that was nothing. It definitely didn’t look like that many people from above. 

The throng of people is quick to take you into its embrace as you hastily make your way into the streets filled to the brim with shops. Everywhere you look, there is some kind of cart or stand offering some kind of merchandise. You ignore it all as you try to push your way through the crowd. 

It’s a bit hard to do when there are vendors shouting in your ear and popping out in front of you, making you stop briefly as they shove their product in your face. You resist the urge to push people out of your way. You really don’t have the time—or patience—for this right now, but you don’t need to draw unwanted attention. 

You look for signs posted with directions, letting them guide you until you’re able to push your way out of the main strip and into a less crowded street. You let out a breath of relief as you take in your surroundings, noticing the port close by. It’s not a straight shot, but it should only take you another few minutes or so. 

You try to stay discreet as you cling to sides of buildings and use hanging awnings for cover. It’s surprisingly hard to act nonchalant and unsuspicious if you’re trying too hard to do so. Having a price on your head is a real pain in the ass.

Adrenaline starts to sneak into your system as you grow close enough to the ships to decide which one to take. You need to be quick and choose one that will be leaving within the next few minutes. You know well enough to be aware of the fact that security will start to check passengers if there’s word of an escaped bounty. You can feel your breath starting to grow thinner and your body getting hotter. 

There’s a passenger ship near the back of the port. It seems smart enough to catch something like that so you don’t seem like you’re, well, on the run. You look around again before starting that way, breezing past people to find the line for tickets. You cross your fingers that there will be spots available on such short notice. 

As you approach the stand, you discover that there are only a few people waiting to purchase a seat. By the time you’re standing still, there’s only one person in front of you. A warm feeling rushes through your body, making you almost light-headed. You’re so close to escaping. Nobody ever does that.  

“Next!” 

You take a breath as you step up, trying to calm your nerves. 

“Hi, I need to get one ticket to…” you glance at the sign hanging from the stand. “Coruscant.” You wince internally. That probably isn't the best place to go in this situation, but at least you’ll be off of this planet. 

The woman looks at you skeptically, obviously confused by why you didn’t even know where the ship would be going. You flash her what you hope is a disarming smile as she squints and tells you your total none-the-less. 

You quickly swing your bag around and unzip it, pulling out your money. You’re handing it over when you hear your name called from behind you. 

Your heart drops to your ass as you turn, wide eyed, to see Mando running full speed at you. You don’t even have a second to think before you’re running too, scanning the area in front of you for an escape route. 

Curses repeat themselves endlessly in your panicked mind as you spy a ship getting ready to depart. It’s beat up and seedy looking, but it’s also likely your only chance. With one more glance behind you, you turn sharply to the left and make a bee-line for your escape. 

You try to focus on your breathing instead of the Mandalorian quickly gaining on you. The ship you’re headed toward is already starting to descend, and you just about triple your efforts. 

You hear your name again, and it makes you wince. A dull throb starts in your chest. Being this close in proximity with Mando again, but now as official enemies, hurts in a way you didn’t think was possible. 

You’ve been betrayed before, but not in such an intimate way. The fact that he pretended to have genuine interest in you—to engage in sexual acts with you—when he knew the entire time that he would be turning you in for a reward, digs deep into your chest like a rusted knife. 

Tears are obstructing your vision before you can deny them, but you push through until you’re only a few feet away from your ship. The gangplank is still open about halfway, but it should be enough for you to squeeze through by the time you reach it. It’s maybe five feet in the air right now, so it’s going to be tough to get up there.

Mando is only a few feet behind you now. You lunge for the plank with everything you have, and your fingers grasp on by just a few inches, the jagged metal stinging as you pull up enough to get both arms up. 

You look at the ground, seeing Mando coming to a stop from where you just jumped. You’re up too high now for him to jump after you, but you forget he has his jetpack until it comes to life. You scramble up the plank as it continues closing to avoid getting cut in half. 

In the end, it’s your only saving grace. You and Mando are able to see each other face to helmet briefly before you’re closed inside, and you make sure to let him see the raw anguish on your face before it does so. You almost wish he had that stupid helmet off so you could see for yourself if the asshole has any kind of remorse. 

A shuddering breath escapes from your lips as you wipe your tears. You turn around on your knees to examine the ship. It’s dark, dingy, and smells absolutely horrid. There’s no crew in sight, to your absolute relief. 

Resisting the urge to gag at the stench, you begin to crawl quietly away from the closed hatch. There are crates everywhere, taking as much floor space as possible and stacked as high as they can go. You’re confused for a moment as to why there needs to be so much product on board, but then a heavy realization dawns on you. 

These chests are filled with spice. 

You’ve seen these come in at your job at the junkyard. Old ones that had surpassed any kind of use for runners. Never in your life though, have you ever seen so many in one place. You absentmindedly hold your breath as you crawl forward, trying to find a place to hide. 

You stop in your tracks when you hear laughter coming from the cockpit—at least two men. 

Shitshitshitshitshit

There’s no getting out of this if you’re discovered. Your heart races in your chest as fear overtakes your body. You really can’t seem to catch a fucking break, can you?

You look around frantically until you see a small space toward the ceiling. It’s partially covered by a crate, which will make it harder to get to, but better for hiding. You scootch to the end of the crate you’re currently behind, peeking your head out just enough to make sure the hull is clear. 

As soon as you’re in the clear, you bolt as quickly and quietly as you can toward the concealed space. As you approach, you map out the notches and grooves you’re going to use to climb up there. 

Step by shaky step,  you pull yourself up, ignoring the stinging cuts in your hands and forearms from the plank. They’re not very deep or wide, but the strain on them hurts almost just as much. 

The crate at the top wobbles as you put all of your weight on it, the entire stack swaying slightly. Your eyes flutter shut as you mutter a silent prayer. It’s much too precarious for your liking as you swing one leg onto the edge of the cubby. You’re way too close for this plan to fail now. 

You’re only able to take a full breath once your entire body is safely tucked within the small space. It’s cozy, barely enough room for you to sit comfortably. You don’t even think it’s big enough to lay down if you wanted to. 

Chatting and laughter continues from the front of the ship as you slowly pull the crate in front of you to conceal you better. It’s heavy as hell and you have to nudge it inch by inch so as to not make a screeching sound against the one below it. 

Once you’re satisfied with the placement, you lean back against the cold metal wall behind you. Now that the exhaustion is beginning to seep into your bones, you can’t help but think that the feeling reminds you of sitting in the Razor Crest. 

You don’t stop the tears that run down your cheeks now. You deserve to cry after the week you’ve had. 

****

You realize much too late that you have no idea where this ship could be going, nor how long it’s going to take to get there. You have food and water in your bag, but you don’t know how you’re supposed to go about your other…needs. 

Thankfully, it seems that the destination is close enough to only be in hyperspace for what you assume was about half the day. You’re half asleep when you feel the tell-tale jerk of the ship coming out of it. It startles you enough to wake up the rest of the way, and you silently scold yourself for letting your guard down for so long—though you can’t remember exactly when you last got some decent sleep. 

The ship rattles as it cuts through the atmosphere of whatever planet it’s dropping this shit off at. The thought crossed your mind at one point that you could have possibly inhaled some of the spice lingering in the air. 

How great would that be? Trying to plead guilty of whatever crime you supposedly committed and then failing a drug test. Really screams “I’m innocent!” You roll your eyes, tired of your brain making up scenarios to throw you through more hoops. 

The ship stops rattling after a moment, and you can feel the glide as it lowers to the ground. The crates rattle once again as the ship plants itself. The walls of the craft creak and groan as a swaying starts, which is strange considering you’ve definitely landed. 

The motion makes you sick to your stomach, but it’s almost a welcome distraction from the fact that you’re about to piss yourself. You need to find a way off of this death-trap before one of the runners discovers you. 

You hear the gangplank starting to lower, and as it does, a gust of heavy rain pushes into the hull. A cold spray hits your face, making you flinch and cover yourself with your arm. From the sliver of scenery you can see, the sky appears to be dark, but not enough so for it to be night. 

You’ve heard about places like this; planets that storm every day of the year and never see the sunlight. They’re usually only used for fishermen, junk yards, and spots for spice traders to meet up. Which absolutely makes sense at the moment. 

You back into the cubby as much as you can, making yourself scarce as two men walk out of the ship and into the dreadful weather. They appear to be dressed for it, both of them wearing rubber boots and thick raincoats. You watch them until they’re out of sight, and then wait a few minutes before climbing back down to the floor. 

You get low, bending enough to be concealed by the chests until you get to the opening of the ship. You let out a breath of relief upon seeing that there’s no threat anywhere near at the moment. You’re so sick of luck not being on your side. This is definitely a welcome change. 

The rain is bone-chilling as you step out into it, immediately soaking you. It’s so thick that you can barely see in front of you. A couple buildings are within view every couple of seconds when there’s a break in the sheets of rain due to the heavy wind. With no other options, you decide to head that way. 

As you trek through the unforgiving storm, you can’t help but compare the way the fat drops of water hit your face to being cut by shards of glass. Though even if you were being cut, you would never be able to tell with how fast the blood would be washed from your numb skin. 

When you reach the closest building, you don’t waste a second before pushing the door open. The loud atmosphere of a cantina immediately welcomes you into its warmth. Despite the heat, you still shiver as you make your way through the main room and to the back. You rush into the bathroom and wait until a stall empties. 

As you wait, you get a couple strange looks, but you’re too tired to do anything about it. You just want to pee and find some directions to get the hell out of this place.

****

When you get out of the restroom, you spot an empty stool wedged between a burly looking man with a beard and a plump woman who seems to have had one or a dozen too many. Every other spot is full, so you hop up and lean forward, trying to catch the bartender’s attention. 

She works quickly, cleaning glasses in between serving replacements and taking orders. It takes a moment for her to come your way, but when she does, you have her full attention. 

“What can I get you, hon?” 

The bartender is a clean but busy looking woman with frizzy hair and a stained apron. You clock the kindness in her eyes immediately, and decide to put your trust in her. She looks like one of those women who would offer up a pad or tampon even if it was her last one. 

“Hi, uh, I’m actually not looking for a drink,” you say, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. You’re not sure if it’s there due to the cold, the exhaustion, or the anxiety. “Can you tell me–”

You stop talking when the woman purses her lips and shakes her head. 

“Sorry, babe, I can’t hear you over this damn ruckus,” she gestures to the people around you, and then points to a corner where you assume the entrance to the bar is. “Meet me right there.” At least she can tell you’re not here to party. 

You slide down from your stool and squeeze your way to where she pointed. She’s already there when you get there. She’s taken her apron off, which confuses you slightly. 

“Hey, I–”

“Honey, you need to get out of here,” she cuts you off, hanging up her apron. 

“What, why?” You ask through your stomach dropping. She flashes you a sympathetic look and you return a defeated one. You’re so fucking tired. How long are you going to have to put up with this shit? 

“Bounty Hunter’s Guild just sent out a high stakes bounty warning. Picture looked just like you, babe.” She raises her eyebrows and gives you a pointed look.

You nod at her. Great, so not only do you have pucks out for any hunter that’s willing to find you, but every being in the galaxy has gotten an alert to look out for you. 

“Yup, That would be me.” 

“Mhm, figured. C’mon, let's get you out of this place. I’ve got somewhere you can stay until you can get off-world.” She exits from behind the bar and takes your hand, attempting to pull you with her. 

You give her a wary look, confused as to why she’s helping you. 

“How do I know you’re not turning me in?” 

“Humor me for a second, just come outside at least. Please?” She stops and looks at you, a pleading look in her eyes. 

You lick your lips but decide to follow her. It really doesn’t seem like she wishes you any harm, but you can’t be sure—you never would have thought Mando would, after all. Just outside, like she said. No further until she spills.

You allow her to pull you back the way you came, into the rain, and then down an alley next to the bar. There’s a flickering street lamp tucked under an awning between the two buildings, which the two of you huddle beneath. 

“Look, I’m gonna make this quick,” the woman says before you have a chance to speak. She pauses and watches you intently. You nod at her, signaling for her to continue. 

“I know how this bounty hunting shit is. My sister was hunted for a good while because she was seen outside the scene of a robbery. She was just a pedestrian, but she got taken in and questioned pretty thoroughly and then ended up spending a few nights in a cell. It’s fucked, to put it simply.”

“I don’t even know what I did,” you tell her, your voice cracking just slightly as you shake your head. She gives you that same sympathetic look from the bar. 

“I know. I read the reasoning for your bounty. It was bantha-shit.” 

“Great,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. You’re well aware that 90% of the population doesn’t care about that—all they’ll see is the pay for turning you in. 

“There’s a place on the outside of the city, it’s been abandoned for a couple years. I’m pretty sure the heat and water are still connected, but nobody ever goes there. It’s an outdated complex. You okay with staying there for a bit?” 

You nod at her, not knowing what else to say. Maybe a thank you? She’s talking again before you get the chance to do that though. 

“Alright, you stay here for just a second,” she instructs before running back into the bar. You lean up against the building, listening to the rain as you let out a shuddering breath. The woman is only gone for a few seconds before she re-emerges with a piece of paper in her hand. 

“These are the instructions to get there from here,” she says, grabbing your hand and shoving the paper into it. “I’m here if you need me, but please don’t try anything if you don’t have to.” 

You look at her, and then the paper, studying the scratchy writing. 

“Thank you, really,” you tell her. She just nods and releases your hand with a tight-lipped smile. 

“Be safe, hon,” she says before ducking back into the bar. 

The trek to the safe house is absolutely miserable. Everything on your body is soaked down, and the paper the woman gave you was starting to fall apart. You had to keep ducking under buildings and awnings to memorize what you could of the directions. 

You’re glad you did, because by the time you reach the place, the paper is non-legible. The building itself is pretty isolated. It appears to have been apartments at one point, but is now just a tall junkyard. There’s piles upon piles of trash around it, but you suppose that only gives more of a reason for people to not go inside. 

Unfortunately for you, you don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You run up to the first door you see, and curse when you try to pull it open. It’s locked, of fucking course. 

You walk around to the side of the building until you see a window that’s not boarded up. Your palms slip against it as you try to get some leverage to push it up, but with some persistence, it comes loose. You almost fall when it springs up, but at least it’s towards the room inside. 

You glance behind you one more time before pushing yourself in. You close the window behind you and take a deep breath as the deafening storm is somewhat quitened. It’s cold in the room you find yourself in, but it’s far better than being out in that shit. 

Looking around, you spot a stove surrounded by counter space, hanging cabinets, and a small, round table accompanied by four outdated chairs. Definitely a kitchen. There’s what appears to be a hall to your right. You walk toward it, trying to hold back your shivering. 

It’s not super long, but you notice how eerily quiet it is as you walk though. On the other side, there’s a room with a bed and a couch. There are three doors, which you can only assume lead to a bathroom, a closet, and the main hall of the building. 

You open the first door, which goes out into the hall. It sends a gust of even colder air into the room, making your teeth chatter as it envelops your wet body. You look left and right, and then reluctantly step into the freezing hallway. It’s dark as shit, but the occasional uncovered window allows enough—albeit dim—lighting to lead you toward the stairwell. 

There’s a sign tacked on the wall there, and you sigh with relief as you spot the directions to the maintenance room. That must be where you can flip the heat on. It’s not far, just down the first staircase and down the hall a little. Without the windows, the room is even darker than the rest of the building. 

You mutter a curse under your breath, figuring that your best bet is going to be blindly running your hands around the walls until you find a switch. You put your hands out and start to glide them slowly left to right, and then up and down until you find an abnormality in the wall. 

You shudder, trying to ignore the cobwebs that have accumulated on the panel which are now sticking to your hands. As long as they’re not spiders, it’s okay. You hesitantly flip the first one, and then the second. Nothing happens in your area, but you swear you hear a click come from one of the floors above you. 

In quick succession, you flip the rest of the switches, and a light finally comes above you once you reach the second to last one. You huff out a breathy laugh at your luck. Now that you aren’t in total darkness, you can clearly see the other panels around you, along with their labels. 

You flip the switch for water, and then another for heat. A low humming starts above you as you do so, indicating that at least the latter is working. 

A piping hot shower and half a ration bar later, you’re laying on top of a bed under a heater, still trying to warm up. You feel the most relaxed you have since you found your bounty puck, although it still isn’t enough to fall asleep without keeping an eye open. Eventually, though, the humming from the heating system lulls you enough to fall into a half-sleep. 

****

You spend three days on what you’ve learned is Attera Bravo before you run out of luck. Word of a Mandalorian bounty hunter is quickly spread, and you catch wind of such as you pay a visit to town for more rations. The panic which had ebbed away after the last few days is suddenly back in full force. 

You really thought you would have a second to catch your breath, but you’re quickly learning that there is no such thing when there’s a price on your head. While you’re in town, you pick up a few rations on the outskirts, and that’s it. You had wanted to find a rain jacket on your trip, but you decide not to risk being in town for too long. 

So you begin to make the trip back to the safe house without a cover from the cold, biting rain. It sucks ass, but it’s better than carbonite. Even though you’re on the outskirts, you still hug the sides of buildings as you make your exit. Your head keeps snapping towards the slightest movements; a flickering street lamp, a closing door, a flash of far away lightning. 

You break off into a sprint as soon as you’re a few feet away from the cover of the nearest building. You don’t look back as you push yourself, not wanting to risk slowing down. All you can see is the terrifying image of Mando catching up with you like he did on Nevarro. 

You glance at the spaceport as you run past, seeing if you can get a glimpse of the Razor Crest. You don’t see it, but that’s probably for the best. There’s no mistaking that the Mandalorian bounty hunter the town’s people are talking about is your Mandalorian bounty hunter, but seeing the Crest would probably crack something within you. That would mean that the kid is likely with him, and you can’t afford to think about him right now. 

You can hear your heavy breaths over the sound of the rain, and you choose to focus on that instead of the icy chill. You try to take breaths in through your nose to calm yourself, but you just get a nose full of water, so you scratch that and continue your panicked breaths through your mouth. 

Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out, breath in–

Your breath hitches. There’s a buzz coming from behind you, steadily growing louder. You spare a glance over your shoulder, and you can just make out the headlights of what looks to be a speeder bike. The pathetic “no” that leaves your mouth would be extremely embarrassing if anyone were around to hear it. 

You try to pick up your pace, but almost trip with your effort. The bike is getting closer, you don’t have to look again to know. There’s no way you’re going to outrun it. You have an idea, but it’s going to be risky. You grit your teeth, thinking it over, and decide that the risk is better than definitely getting caught. 

You stop suddenly, just for a second, until the bike is almost to you. Then you turn around, seeing Mando atop it, only a bit away. He didn’t anticipate your stop, and doesn’t register the fact that he needs to slow down until you’re running past him and back toward town. 

You don’t get much of a head start, but luckily the space port is still close enough that it’s not absolutely necessary. As soon as you’re close enough, you dive around a crate to get out of the way of the speeder. Mando arrives right behind you, quick to hop off it and start on foot after you.

You make your way to where you remember the ship you came on had landed. The last time you passed here, you remember seeing the gangplank open. Either they make routine stops, or they’re here for a while. Either way, it means that your escape will be aided by the same ship that helped you the first time. 

By some incredible luck, it’s still there. There’s a group of relatively shady people gathered a few yards away from it, standing under a wing of another ship, but you’re getting used to dealing with shady things at this point. You run past them, not intending to stop until you’re alone without the threat of Mando. 

Without stopping to turn around or even check if there are people in the ship, you run up the plank, slamming your palm over the button to close it behind you. You hear a couple panicked “Hey”s from behind you, which you can only assume is the protests of the guys who own this ship. You run into the cockpit, which is thankfully empty. 

You start to flick switches and pull knobs, everything you can try to get this thing off the ground in the fastest amount of time. If you learned anything on the Crest, it’s how to work a ship’s panel. You hear pangs coming from the closing door, and look out the window to see that half of the group from earlier has run off, and are likely the source of the sound. 

You looked out just in time to see your Mandalorian coming to a stop in front of the other half of the group, who are blocking him from getting further toward you. You huff out a tiny laugh. Take that, asshole. The ship starts to ascend just as Mando throws his first punch. 

****

Once you’re back into space, your heart gets the memo that it can stop working overtime. You decide you’ll just cruise for a bit while you figure out where the best place to go would be—assuming Mando will be occupied with his opponents below for a moment. It needs to be somewhere pretty isolated and unknown for the most part, but also not painfully obvious. 

You consider going back to Jakku for a moment, but scratch that idea quickly. You would for sure be turned in by someone there. And besides, Mando would look there eventually. 

You sigh and lean back in the outdated pilot’s seat, staring at the stars around you. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this view. It’s quiet and peaceful, and it almost makes you forget everything you’re dealing with right now. A lump catches in your throat at that thought. 

You really don’t understand how you’re going to get through this. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life running; that’s no life at all. To be in constant fear of being caught, never being able to settle down, never able to make connections. It genuinely makes you sick to your stomach. 

You lean back and put one hand over your eyes as you try to think about what your next step is. It also needs to be somewhere where you can get more supplies. You need more clothes since all yours have been pretty weathered by the constant rain. You’re also going to need money at some point. 

How are you going to do that? Something tells you that you won’t be able to just snag a job along the way. You sit forward in your seat again, shaking your head. The air con on the ship has kicked on, hitting your drenched body and making your teeth chatter as you pull up the navigation system to browse nearby planets. 

You’re only pressing the first button when the ship suddenly jolts, a crashing sound coming from the back. It scares the shit out of you, your hand clutching tightly to your chest as you spring up out of your seat and look behind you. 

An alarm sounds, frightening you more as you realize that you’ve just been hit. The impact didn’t seem like enough to do a lot of damage, but you have no idea how to work the cannons on this thing—if there are any cannons at all. Judging by the looks of this thing, if it is equipped with a weapons system, it’s likely out of date and of no use to you. 

You speed up and grab the steering to quickly turn to the right, trying to get out from in front of the offending ship. Maybe if you can get behind them and far enough away, you’ll be able to get into hyperspace. It seems that your best bet is going to be running. You’re sensing a bit of a pattern at this point. 

You grit your teeth as the ship tilts slightly with the momentum of your turn. A couple of left over bins in the hull spill over, making you wince at the crashing sounds. There’s suddenly a sweet smell, and you close your eyes briefly as you pray that there wasn’t any spice in those crates. 

It was only for a split second, but when your eyes open, you’re face to face with another small craft. You swerve again to keep out of its way. As you do so, another pops up in your path, and then another, each of them coming out of hyperspace in quick succession. 

Your heartbeat picks up with your panic as you realize you’re surrounded. You can’t see behind you, and there’s no way to go forward. There’s got to be at least five or six of them, and they’re probably carrying between at least four to eight people a piece. They could take you out right now if they wanted. 

Gulping down your anxiety, you do the most rational thing you can think of in the moment, and reluctantly slow down to a gentle drift. As the ships come in closer with your surrender, you think ahead. If they take you onto one of their ships, you might be able to—

Your train of thought is stopped as you get an alert of an incoming transmission on the dash. You breathe out a shaky breath and press the button to accept it. 

A holo-image of an extremely pissed looking Weequay sprouts from the com. You stand tall and put on a brave face. He stares at you, his eyes narrowing. You gulp, hoping it goes unnoticed. There’s a sour taste in your mouth, and a sick feeling in your stomach. You don’t know if you’re getting out of this one. 

To make matters worse, the spice that had spilled with your turn is starting to creep up to the cockpit in a thick fog. The rusty-orange looking powder floats higher with every second, the effects quickly making you dizzy. 

“Okay, girl,” the rugged looking creature drawls with a weird accent you can’t quite place. “I personally was having a good day today, and I think you should know that, first of all.”

You furrow your brow but don’t interrupt. The creature starts to pace slightly as he speaks in a casual tone. 

“Everything was going great, I was making good sales, had deals going for that spice you have in my ship—which I’m sure you’ve discovered at this point. I was just about to have my guys deal with it—and then I got the call that some bitch stole my ship containing the goods. Would you know anything about that, sweetheart?” 

You wince lightly at the insulting pet name, a stark difference from the way Mando used to say it. The dust around you is starting to pick up to the point where your eyes are stinging. You wish you could think of something to say back, but all you can focus on is the bile crawling up your throat. 

“Hm, I think you would,” he stops to say flatly. “Now, my initial plan had been to force you off my ship and maybe take you out to have a little fun! Told my guys they deserve to have a little treat on me after their hard work the last few days. We’d just need you for a little bit, I’m sure these guys don’t have much stamina if you know what I mean…”

The man continues talking, but you’ve frozen in place. Your stomach twists at his threats, and you suddenly feel the need to throw up. The spice growing thicker around you is definitely not helping that factor. 

“...would have been such a good time,” you zone back into the man’s vulgar words. Letting your gaze drift back to him from where it had fallen to the floor. You find yourself wishing for Mando, for the safety you felt as you laid so briefly within his comforting arms. You want to punch yourself for thinking that. 

The pirate, obviously annoyed with your lack of response, continues rambling about this inconvenience, but you can hardly hear him through the ringing growing louder in your ears. The truth that you’re finally trapped is just catching up to you. 

 “Anyways, when I found your bounty poster, I thought just for a second that it must be your lucky day! But then, I figured that whoever wants you probably doesn’t give a shit about what kind of condition you’re in.” 

He laughs at the increasingly panicked look on your face. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart! We won’t go too hard on you now. As long as you cooperate, of course. Just be good for us and we’ll send you to Nevarro without so much as a—”

There’s another crash from behind you, but this time it’s not your ship taking the damage. The man in front of you swivels around, straining to see the source of the sound. His eyes widen, and so do yours when you see the fear in his eyes. You take a step back. 

“What the—” 

The pirate is cut off again as his ship abruptly explodes right in front of you. His holo-image glitches out as you scream, falling back into your seat. Your ship is knocked back slightly at the same time you feel two other crafts quickly flying by you, chasing the shadow of the one you see above you. 

Two ships emerge from either side of you, and your heart skips a beat once you catch a glimpse of the one they’re chasing. You know that ship. Two of the smaller crafts race after the Razor Crest as it trails them away from you. 

That doesn’t mean you’re surrendering to anybody today. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you scramble to push the thrusters, planning to get as far away from here as you can. The two ships that aren’t tailing the Crest suddenly change direction to follow you instead. Shit.

You continue forward at full speed, making quick turns and dodges to throw off the idiots behind you. Unfortunately, it’s not working in your favor. You feel your ship jolt as a blast lands on the surface of it. You hear the sound of something powering down. 

Your craft slows to about half its speed, making you cry out in frustration. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the Crest take out one of the ships that had been pursuing it. Another hit comes to your ship, and this time the hit is so great that you jolt forward and almost hit your head on the dash. 

Another one immediately follows, and this time you do slip out of your chair and smack your head on the edge of the panel. Your vision blacks for a second, and you know it has to be at least a small concussion. A ringing starts back in your ears again as your vision blurs slightly. A big flash blinds you momentarily as—at least you assume—Mando takes out the other craft on his trail in front of your ship. 

For a second, nothing makes sense. There’s another blow to the side of your craft, and then one more, one right after the other. You get rocked back and forth forcefully, only making you more confused. There’s too much going on at once for you to process; time’s moving too slowly and the spice is making you hazy and the alarm’s too loud and there’s another big crash and muffled explosion as another ship is annihilated. 

You scramble, trying to stay up straight as you use your chair to push yourself up. You need to find a way to get out of here before you’re left alone with Mando. Does the hyperspace still work on this thing? Too bad you won’t find out, because as you reach for the dash, you get sent forward and smack your head again. This time, everything goes black.

***** Thank you for reading!! I'm going to try to have another part out in a few weeks!! I'm also making a taglist for this series if anyone would like to join.

[seokjins-luigi]

i hate everything about you | pt. 2 | pjm

・pairing: ex!jimin x ex!f!reader

・genre: exes to ? | angst | smut

18+

・word count: 4.2k

・summary: accidentally, you bump into your ex who, mind you, previously cheated on you. so you're 99% sure the only feeling you have left for him is sheer hate. but the 1% leaves you questioning.

・banner: by the amazing @/kookdiaries

・A/N: i'm very sorry for making you wait for so long ): but finally, here's part 2 of this story. i wanna thank everyone for the amazing feedback 💜

again: here's a playlist for y'all to play as you read it, if you want to hehe

as always, thank you to my soulmate @primadonnasdream for helping me build my stories. hope you guys enjoy the reading :))

if you wanna be added to any of my taglists, just leave a comment here. feedback is always appreciated, sweeties 💜

・permanent taglist: @goldenhoney-cas @yuugehn

・taglist:@imluckybitches @bbtsficrecs @minijagiya @jackinthethroat @arckyive @chimchimmarie @bex-92br @rkvi @hoseok666 @joonsytip @callmejimmeo @koreanaestheticc @tea4sykes @pamzn @nikkiordonez12 @withluvjm @natalie-rdr @south09 @hannahdanyelle @vonvi-blog @leticiaesteveslp @sheylamc @kooklovee

You like to think of yourself as a not complicated type of person. Most of the time, you’re logic-oriented, try not jumping into conclusions and, above all else, you don’t waste your precious time obsessing over things that are outside of your control. 

This has been working for your chill personality for your entire life just fine, but when it comes to Park Jimin, none of it applies to you. 

Today, you wake up feeling extremely tired after the awful night of sleep you obviously had. Unfortunately, you couldn’t think about anything else other than fucking Park Jimin. The things he had said kept replaying in your mind in a never ending loop. Totally obsessing over it and this is so unlike you, it hurts. 

You watched the dark shades of the night turn into the golden shades of the morning through the thin curtains of your bedroom window. What did he mean when he asked you if you still had no idea? Was he trying to manipulate you or was there something you really didn’t know about the situation?

As much as you keep trying to convince yourself that you don’t want to dig into it, you know that you very much want to dig into it. You nor only just want, you need to. If anything, it’ll give you closure. Although it sounds bizarre and you honestly didn’t have the faintest idea of what this could be about, it really felt like some part of Jimin was being honest.

“I wanna tell you everything”, he actually said that. Maybe there is something to be told. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking, maybe you are only falling under his spell all over again. But the fact that you were the one who did not let him speak last night is eating you alive, now you’re anxious and nervous and it’s all your own fault.

You were just sure things could not go on like this, because it was starting to affect your work. You kept losing focus on your meetings with clients, forgetting about important tasks or overlooking details that should not be overlooked. This is where you draw the line. You can’t allow Jimin’s influence in your life to go this far. One time was enough, you can’t allow him to mess with your head again. 

After pondering about it for hours, you decide to go looking for him. You know the only way out of this spiraling mode you’re in right now is to have an honest and thorough conversation with Jimin, because you deserve to know the truth. 

When you arrive at the bar, the place Jungkook took you last night, you see Jimin’s car parked nearby. It was almost exactly six o’clock and you’re sure he had arrived at work already, he’s always been a responsible guy. Luckily, as if destiny was giving you a hand, not even a minute later you see the glass door of the bar being opened and a second later Jimin passes through. 

You see your ex heading towards his car, he doesn’t seem to have seen you across the street. You hesitate for a second, but you force yourself to go to him. 

Each step you take in his direction makes you want to just run away as fast as you can, almost as if you can’t take the anticipation. You need this. You need closure. You can do this, Y/n.

As you got near, you saw him looking for something in the glove compartment, still unaware of your presence. You take a deep breath and call his name.

“Jimin?” You’re surprised with how confident you sounded. 

He snapped his head in your direction, confusion stamped all over his face.

“Y/n?” He furrowed his eyebrows, turning to you as he spoke. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” You looked him in the eyes and he returned the deepness of your own. “Please?”

“Y/n, about last night… I’m really sorry. I was drunk, I shouldn’t have gone there and bothered you with my shit”.

“I can forgive you for last night if you tell me the whole story”, he looked down to his feet before you could finish the sentence, breaking eye contact with you. “Jimin-ssi, I deserve to know”.

He turns his back, delicately closing the door of his car. He, then, turns back to you, finally looking into your eyes once again, the surprise from his eyes is gone and you’re not sure of what you see there. 

“All I can say is I’m sorry for last night, but”, he leans and rests his body against his car, displaying an annoyingly nonchalant expression on his fucking face as he shrugs. “There’s nothing to tell”.

At this moment you remember why you hate his ass. It’s ridiculous how he can look you straight in the eyes and lie to you after the scene he pulled hours ago in your house. 

You take a deep, frustrated breath.

“Fucking bullshit! Thanks for reminding me how much of an asshole you are, Jimin. I almost forgot”, you smile dryly. “I hope next time you drink, you don't show up at my doorstep whining again, ok? Next time I’ll call the fucking police”.

With a smirk, he declares. “There'll be no next time, Y/n. Rest assured”.

“Well, praise the lord, huh?” You reply in a sharp tone, not allowing him to say his piece. “I regret every single tear I’ve wasted on you. You… You were the worst mistake I’ve ever made”.

He glares at you with contempt plastered all over his face, his plump lips tightened as his brows rose. You wish punching people in the face didn’t cause as much trouble as it does, because you can swear to all gods that have ever existed that the only thing you want at this moment is to punch this expression off his face. 

“Say that again”, he challenges you, brows still in the same position as before, with a darker shade of brown on his eyes.

You refuse to give him the satisfaction. 

“You’re not deaf”, now you’re the one who answers challengingly, raising your own brows as you try to speak calmly. “Next time we bump into each other, do me the favor of pretending you don’t know me”.

You turn your back to him and march back to your own car, hating yourself for dragging your ass all the way to this fucking bar again, only to have him mock you. You rush back into your car, knowing fully well that there’s a big chance that Jimin’s still observing you, so you can’t allow yourself to cry. You were not even sad, you’re genuinely pissed, but unfortunately you’re an angry crier. 

You could run over him if it wasn’t a crime. As you are about to connect the keys to the ignition, you hear a soft knock on your window and you just know it’s him. Rolling your eyes, you turn your head in Jimin’s direction and he gestures, asking you to roll your window down.

You do as he says and hiss impatiently. “What?”

“One last fuck and we’ll forget about each other”, he licks his lips in an obvious attempt to make you feel something.

Unfortunately, you do. But fortunately, you’re pretty good at hiding your emotions when you really want to. So you just throw your head back and let out a very ironic laughter. 

“What’s so funny, Y/n?” He asks you, with a piercing look in his dark eyes, tilting his head to the side slightly. 

“I just told you you were the worst mistake I’ve made, man…” You let out another laugh, less energetically. “Are you into degradation now? I’m not really into that kind of kink, sorry”.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You fucking love angry sex”, he declared in a lower tone, with a raspy voice that he knows makes you feel things. 

He has a point, you do love angry sex. As you keep silent, Jimin continues.

“Let me take you to my place, it’s just around the corner…” his eyes focus on your lips as he speaks. “Let me fuck you, until you forget why you’re mad at me. You know how good I am… Just this one last time, then you can go back to pretending I don’t exist”.

You do know how good he is. You hate to admit, even if it’s just to yourself, but he’s more than good. Your sex life with Jimin has always been great, actually, that’s why you got even more hurt when he cheated. You used to think you were enough for him, that you satisfied him as much as he did to you. Apparently not. And that broke your confidence and self esteem in a way that you’re still trying to recover.

You’re pissed at him, but you can’t deny that you’re still insanely attracted to this motherfucker, regardless of your history. Your mind desperately says no, but your but urges you to say yes.

“Why would I say yes to this ridiculous proposition?” You scoff, trying to mask the fact that this is you already starting to give in.

“Simply because you know you want me to fuck you”, he declares with a knowing smirk.

The way he’s looking at you right now is definitely not helping you to stay focused on maintaining your sense of dignity. His plump lips slightly parted, forming a deliciously attractive dirty grin, his eyes intensely glued onto your own lips as he waits for your answer. You can’t deny how magnetic he feels.

He leans further in your direction, cupping your face with one of his hands, running his thumb over your mouth. You are simply unable to stop yourself from delicately parting your lips, taking his thumb between them and sucking it softly. He lets out a heavy breath, locking his dark eyes with you as your skilled tongue runs along his finger.

“Let’s go, babe”, he almost begged this time.

He didn’t have to ask you again, unfortunately. He opened your car door and next thing you knew, he was dragging you up the stairs of his building until you saw yourself inside his small apartment. 

As soon as you were inside, he pushed you against the front door and started kissing you hungrily. Just like the last kiss inside your place last night, it feels like Jimin is hungry for you, it feels like he can devour you right then and there. His tongue tastes yours with desperation, making it difficult for you to breathe. One of his hands lands beside your head, on the door, and the other travels up your body, from your waist to your boobs. 

The kiss is messy and intense, not only for him, but for you too, your mind can’t seem to focus on anything other than Jimin. It feels like time and space aren’t real when you’re with him, just like it was then. 

Reaching for the hem of his shirt, you tug it in order to get rid of it as quickly as possible, getting rid of yours in the middle of the way too. 

“You missed this, didn't you?” Jimin places your hand on his abs as he whispers with a cocky grin.

“I think you missed these much more”, you reply with the same amount of cockyness as him, guiding his hands to your boobs.

“Oh, I fucking did”, he whispers again, mouth already glued to your neck as he kneads your breasts.

In the back of your mind, a little annoying voice tries to warn you, saying you will regret this later. But, honestly, who gives a fuck? Life’s hard enough for you to worry about future regrets. You’ll hate yourself for fucking Jimin when the times comes, right now, all you want to focus is on his devious tongue and the crazily good patterns it’s drawing all over your neck. You’re so lost into Jimin’s magic that you don’t even realize you let a moan escape your lips driving your ex even more mad.

His mouth is back on yours and he pushes you towards the couch sitting in the corner of his small living room, throwing you carelessly against it. His tongue is already pushing his way between your lips, you close your eyes, focusing only on the intensity of Jimin’s kiss. It feels like you’re back to the beginning of everything, this kiss feels like what it felt like kissing Jimin for the first time. The passion is still there and you will deal with it later.

“Let’s get rid of this, shall we?” He asks you, pulling the strap of your bra down, almost not waiting for your nod of approval. 

You both sloppily get rid of the rest of your clothes, tossing them carelessly on the floor of your ex’s living room. Next thing you knew, he had two fingers in you and your nipple in his mouth. He sucked and licked your nipples in a passion that had you gasping and his fingers were bent inside your thoroughly wet pussy. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his fingers and his mouth, he knows exactly how you like it and that’s why it feels so good. Being with someone who knows you and what you like is so much better than spending the night in a stranger's bed like in the countless one-night stands you’ve had the past few months.

“You’re so fucking wet right now, babe… It’s ridiculous how much you want me to fuck you, huh?” He teases you, lips brushing lightly against your already sensitive nipple as he speaks.

You let out a loud moan this time, staring back at his intense black eyes, and nod. 

“I do, Ji”, in a distressed attempt for grounding, you scratch his back with your nails, not minding if it’ll leave him marked or not. He gasps and you continue. 

“Please, just fuck me, Ji-”.

“Of course, babe, anything you ask”, he cuts you mid sentence.

He pulled his fingers out of you and, before you could whine about it, he shut you up with another messy kiss, but also full of desire. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted both your bodies up, switching places with you on the couch. He positioned himself between your legs, making the tip of his cock touch your wet and throbbing folds.

“Rid me, Y/n”, he asks you, half tenderly, half assertive. “Show me how much you miss me”.

You felt something inside you shake. This is so fucking wrong.

But without thinking too much about it, you let your weight down on his cock, feeling the delicious stretch all at once. Both of your breaths falter, basking in the divine sensation of him being inside you. 

Your hips started moving on their own, as the pleasure started to consume your mind completely. You had your eyes on Jimin’s beautiful face, now fully taken over by lust, darkening his features in an irresistible way. His plump lips parted and he moaned, making you forget completely about everything else around you. 

Your movements were starting to become desperate, feeling the way his cock fills you up completely, as he tries to pick up your speed with his own skillful hips. Both of you were loudly showing how good you can give it to each other.

His hand travels up your body, as he lifts his upper body to reach the back of your neck. He sticks his tongue out and licks the side of your neck, the warm and moist sensation makes you close your eyes instantly. 

“If you don’t take it slow, I won’t last much longer, babe…” He whispers, as he grasps your hair tightly. “Can I take over now?”

You hum. You love being in control, but you love it even more when Jimin is in control. He instantly switches positions with you, thrusting hard the moment your back touches the couch, in a slower, but deeper pace compared to how you were riding his cock just now. 

The intensity of his thrusts have you clenching around his cock. Shaky breaths leave both of your lips, both of you too focused on the ecstatic feeling of being together. The sounds of your wet pussy being snapped against his cock, his balls slapping against your naked ass mixed with your moans and pants.

“I could…” He thrusts you one more time, deeper than before. “Fuck this pussy forever”.

You feel your walls clenching tighter around his cock, not missing a single inch of his length being pushed inside of you. 

“Look how… how good you take it, babe”, he groans in your ear with his cock buried deep inside of you.

You feel his cock twitch and another moan escapes his parted lips. You’re both almost out of breath. You know he won’t last much longer now if he continues to hammer you in this intensity. Your body tingles with pleasure with every single thrust of his hips.

At this point, you’re just a moany mess. Your heart is racing and in every pump you can feel the adrenaline flowing through your veins. Jimin’s thrusts start to become desperate and out of pace, while you can feel the burning sensation building in your lower stomach. 

One of your hands travels to your clit, your head snaps back when your fingers finally touch your throbbing sex, feeling the divine sensation spreading throughout your body. Jimin replaces your fingers with his own, with a cocky grin hanging on his swollen lips.

“Fucking slut, look at you…” Moving  his fingers in circular patterns as he pants and thrusts and gazes at you with his dark, lusty eyes. “You still like it messy, huh?”

“Ye-”.

Before you could finish, the electric sensation takes over your whole body and all you can focus on is the pleasure taking over you. You whimper as the orgasm spreads through your veins, screaming Jimin’s name. Clenching even harder around his dick as your pussy spilt out your juices all over his twitching cock. 

He bites your shoulder and you feel like he’s on the brim of cuming too.

“Ji, I- I want you to fill me up”, you whispered in between your pants. “I want it all”.

“Y-Yeah?” You know he’s struggling to hold back by the sound of his shaky, low pitched voice. “Are you gonna take all of it like the good girl that you are, babe?”

You want him so bad. You want to feel everything you missed out on in the last months away from him. 

“I will, Ji, please”, you looked at him, eyes pleading as you gave yourself completely to him. Once again. 

He thrusted deep inside of your pussy one last time, allowing his orgasm to take over him and cuming deep inside of you, painting your clenching walls white. Both of you are too out of breath to move, so you just take your time breathing and trying to recompose yourselves before Jimin pulls out of you. Sweat covering both of your naked bodies on a weekday afternoon. 

You closed your eyes, feeling the tiredness and soreness, but also the delightfulness and the lingering sensation of pleasure. This motherfucker was right, what you two have is not easy to find. This chemistry.

You open your eyes when you feel Jimin’s body weight being lifted up from yours. You take your time looking at him and he is still just as beautiful as you remember. Not just hot, that’s obvious. But he’s also beautiful like very few men in the world are.

He sees you’re staring and smiles cockily. 

“Too handsome, huh?” 

“Unfortunately, I have to agree”, you roll your eyes, almost playfully. 

He laughs softly and throws himself on you again, laying his head between your breasts and hugging you. It’s ridiculous to admit, but it just feels right. 

Both of you remain silent. The only thing that can be heard are both of you trying to catch your breaths, but you don’t even pay attention to that. You’re nervous. There are so many questions you wanna ask and even though this feels right at this moment, this man made you suffer like hell not so long ago. 

“Ugh, I don’t wanna get up”, he declares in a lazy voice, his face still between your breasts. “You almost make me want to miss work”.

You sigh. This is too much, too domestic, too nostalgic, but you want to be right here, exactly like you are, in his arms. All the things he said to you yesterday flash through your mind. How he said he missed you, how he begged for you two to talk and you refused to listen. You were hurting so much you couldn’t see through the pain and resentment. 

“I’ve missed this”, you finally confess in a whisper.

But you’re sure he could hear you, because his arms closed even tighter around you.

“Me too, babe”, he murmurs the answer. 

Your hand travels up to his silky hair, running your hands through his locks. You’re not sure how long you just stay together like that, enjoying each other’s existence silently, but you finally break the silence.

“We still have a lot to talk about, don't we?”

He lifts his head to look you in the eyes. “Do we?”

“You think we don’t?” The protesting tone was clear as you voiced the question, specially because you didn't find anything genuine in his eyes when he asked you that question.

“We don’t”, he averts his gaze, laying his head almost between the crook of your neck and your shoulder.

“Jimin, look at me…” You try to sound as firm as possible, but it sounds more like a plea than a command.

“Baby… Just- Let’s not do this”, he whispers. “I can’t”.

You lift your body with your elbows so you could look at him, making him untie his arms around you and sit as well.

“What do you mean, Jimin-ssi?” You try again, speaking slowly so your nerves don't get the best of you. 

You don’t want to believe that this is true. He can’t treat you like you’re some random booty call.

“Hey!” He tries giving you an obviously empty smile. “What happened to Ji? I prefer when you call me Ji”.

Also sitting up, bending your legs in order not to touch his anymore. The way he’s speaking to you right now, the way he’s looking at you with empty eyes and an empty smile. You know where this is going and you feel sick to your stomach with the idea that you allowed Jimin to get in your head again and, once more, you end up hurt.

“And I prefer when you tell me the truth!” You raise your voice now, trying to find on his face any signs that you might be wrong.

“I thought I had made myself clear when I said I have nothing to tell you”, he states firmly, averting his gaze from yours. “I have already asked you to forget about this”.

You feel a huge lump in your throat, trying your best not to allow the tears to form in the corner of your eyes. You are not crying in front of Park Jimin ever again. You refuse. Even though it hurts just like it hurted before, you’ll save your tears for another time.

“Really? After fucking me, you’re just gonna ask me to get the fuck out of your life like nothing happened?” 

You watch his face contort, like he was profoundly thinking about what to say next. You suddenly see his expression change and you know this is his sassy snarky side taking over, nothing serious comes out of him when his eyes reflect his darker side like that. 

“I was horny, you were horny. I thought it was clear it wasn’t a bargain”, he still doesn’t look at you while he speaks. “It was just sex”.

And he shrugs. It’s clear to you that this shit’s been a fucking joke to him. A sick fucking joke you never expected him to be capable of. This is not the Jimin you spent years with, the one you loved, the one you wanted to get married to at some point in the past. 

His words cut through you. Just sex. 

You hate everything about this Jimin.

“Of course it was just about sex… I’m sorry if I misunderstood the situation, Jimin. ” You push his legs aggressively so you can get out of the couch. “Excuse me, I wanna leave”.

You start collecting your underwear and clothes from the floor of his stupid house, trying your best to block the tears away. You dress yourself hastily, while Jimin watches you in silence. You head for the door, but he holds your arm lightly, trying to stop you.

“Hey, Y/n… Don’t be like that, I’ll feel guilty”, he pleads softly again.

“Get your hands off of me”, you groan between your teeth without turning to face him. “Also, fuck off”.

He lets go of your arm and you leave his apartment as soon as you can, slamming the door behind you. You rush back to your car and drive away as fast as you can, only allowing yourself to cry your anger and pain out when you’re tucked in bed later that day.

[whats-k-popping]

Hello! For the prompt list, could you write 5 & 49 with Seonghwa as the sick one and San as the caretaker? I love their brotherly dynamic~ Thank you!

I'm so sorry this request is about 9 months old! If you're still here, anon, I hope you enjoy this fic. I really did enjoy writing it and I love the dynamic between these two!

Pairing: Seonghwa x San - platonic intentions, but read as you please

Prompts: "Try and get some food down. Anything" || "Sorry. I'm… I'm really dizzy" 

Words Count: 2489

Warnings: Illness || Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of Sickness

San doesn't usually wake up in the middle of the night. He has a very thorough nightly routine that he completes meticulously each evening. He spends upwards of an hour in the bathroom each night, completing his skin care and dental care and emptying himself of anything that might disturb his precious hours of uninterrupted sleep. He swears by this routine. Sleeping in his own bed is a luxury these days, so he doesn't even want to waste 1 precious minute on something as trivial as using the bathroom. 

So he's naturally disgruntled when he wakes in the middle of the night unable to quickly doze back to sleep. Despite his nightly rituals, he still finds himself having to pee at half past 3 in the morning. He blames it on drinking Mingi's leftover coffee. Can't let precious caffeine go to waste either. He only feels a hint of remorse. 

Begrudgingly, he throws the covers off of himself and hustles down to the bathroom. If he's quick, he might be able to get it done without losing the fuzzy feeling of sleep. In and out, then back to sleep. That's the plan. 

That plan comes to a screeching halt when he enters the bathroom to find Seonghwa draped across the toilet seat, skin white as a ghost. And if the sight isn't enough of a clue, there's an overpowering stench of vomit lingering in the air. 

"Hwa-hyung!" San exclaims. He stands petrified in the doorway, like he's awaiting further instruction. He's not really sure what he's supposed to do. Seonghwa is the caretaker of the group, how is he supposed to take care of him. 

Seonghwa lifts his head to look at San, a pained expression on his face and a vacant look in his eyes. He shushes the younger, "You'll-" He cuts himself off with a nauseous burp, "You'll wake Mingi."

Of course, even draped helplessly over the only toilet in their apartment, looking minutes away from comatose, Seonghwa is still thinking about the others. San clicks his tongue. And Mingi, of all people, a historically heavy sleeper. The building could be mid-demolition and he'd be none the wiser. "No I won't," San says confidently. Still he lowers his voice just for good measure. 

The remnants of sleep are gone and he's on high alert now. He knows he won't be able to go back to sleep knowing that his hyung is feeling so miserably unwell. So he enters the small bathroom and closes the door behind him for privacy. He also turns on the bathroom fan, to hopefully ventilate some of the smell out of the room. 

"Don't come any closer, San-ah." Seonghwa stops mid-command to gag. It's unnaturally loud, echoing in the now sealed room, but unproductive. "I might be contagious." 

"I don't care." San replies without thinking, like it's the most natural response in the world. "You need help." 

Seonghwa shakes his head, not making any eye-contact with the younger. "I can take care of myself." He says in such a way that San can't help but be skeptical. "You're younger than me. I'm not your responsibility." 

"You're my hyung," San stands his ground, already resolved to help Seonghwa. At least through the night, he can let Hongjoong know in the morning and they can work out a more long-term plan from there. "And my family is my responsibility." 

Seonghwa looks like he has another objection queued up, but before he can respond he bows his head into the toilet bowl when the formerly unproductive gag returns. This time, a slurry of sick pours out his open mouth. The oldest whimpers and moans as he stomach convulses to get every last drop out of him. 

San notices it's mostly clear and speculates that Seonghwa has been throwing up for so long that he's empty. Since they all ate the same thing, he concludes it's likely a stomach bug, not a lone case of food poisoning. While Seonghwa continues to stare into the bowl, San takes the opportunity to approach his hyung. He crouches down next to him and runs a hand along his back, "You're okay. Get it out. That's good." He whispers sweet reassurances until the episode is over. 

All the tension leaves Seonghwa's body at once, leaving him slack against the toilet seat. San's hand on his back distracts him from the cramping in his stomach, so for now he stops trying to shoo the younger away. The attention actually feels kind of nice, reminds him of home, of being the youngest in the family. Reminds him of how much he misses it. 

The porcelain seat is cold, but San's body is teeming with warmth. He craves that warmth, the comfort that comes with physical contact. It's more alluring than the ceramic bowl. It takes way more effort than it should, but he pushes himself off the toilet seat and into San's open arms. 

San sees Seonghwa's intention and helps him settle in, wrapping his arms comfortingly around his hyung. He uses just enough pressure so that he's hugging, but not squeezing. "Poor hyung, you really must not be feeling well." He soothes, pressing a kiss to Seonghwa's sweaty temple.  

Seonghwa whines, a long drawn out sound that might be an affirmative. He mumbles something about "hurt" and "cold" but all the words are muffled against San's shoulder. 

"C'mon, why don't we get you back to bed?" San suggests. He contemplates getting his hyung in the shower, but decides against it given the elder's weak state. Maybe when some of his energy returns, he'll push for a shower. 

"Couch," Seonghwa counters. 

San's eyebrow raises in curiosity, "You don't want to sleep in your bed. It's much more comfortable than the couch." He recommends, "If you're still worried about waking Mingi, don't be. His door is closed." 

Seonghwa shakes his head the tiniest bit. If San hadn't been critically analyzing his hyung's every movement, he would have missed it. "Not about Mingi," Seonghwa insists. His eyes start to water and his lower lip quivers. "Please, just couch." He begs through a sob. 

Though San doesn't totally understand why, he can tell it's a sensitive topic and surrenders. "Okay, okay," he hushes, "I'll take you to the couch. I'll set up a nice, soft blanket for you and get you extra pillows. Okay, how does that sound?" Seonghwa does like the sound of that, he affirms it with a small "mmhm." 

San pushes Seonghwa away just long enough to stand up on his own. Once he's on his feet, he holds out a hand to his hyung, "Can you stand?" 

Seonghwa holds the outstretched hand, squeezing it with all the might he can muster. He uses his other hand to hold into the edge of the sink, trying to get himself up. He makes it onto his knees, but can't make it any further. With a sniffle, he shakes his head sadly at his dongsaeng. 

San doesn't question it or force anything more from his hyung. He simply steps in and helps Seonghwa to his feet, shouldering much of his hyung's weight onto himself. "There we go, wanna try walking?" When Seonghwa doesn't object, San takes a tentative step forward, out of the bathroom. Seonghwa follows on wobbling knees. 

They make it to the entrance of the living room area when Seonghwa nearly throws himself against the wall. He clings to the wall, slowly sliding down until he's on the floor, head pressed against the wall. San crawls next to him, "What's wrong?" 

"Sorry, I'm… I feel really dizzy." He explains his sudden transition to the floor. "I just need a minute." 

There's a cold hand pressed against Seonghwa's forehead, something to focus on that will hopefully make his world stop spinning. Even with his eyes closed, he feels like he's riding a carousel at 160 kph. "You're burning up." The younger gasps like this is new information. Seonghwa has known of the fever for hours. "And you're probably dehydrated too. We've gotta get some liquid in you." 

A panic shoots through San as he scans the room, hoping that by some miracle someone might be there to help him. But he knows deep down that it's a lost cause. It's still the middle of the night. And the only other person in the apartment is sound asleep. So it's all up to him. "Stay here, okay?" He encourages, "I'm gonna get stuff ready for you." 

Seonghwa just nods, hand resting on his bloated stomach. Without San's cool hand to ground him, his mind is back to whirling around the carousel. He presses his head against the wall and whimpers until San's return. He has no way of knowing if seconds, minutes, or hours pass in his misery. 

San can hear Seonghwa's lonely cries as he passes through the apartment. He starts in the kitchen, setting on a kettle for tea and rummaging through the mostly barren cabinets, swearing up and down that he'd seen a sleeve of crackers lying untouched just a few days ago. When the crackers don’t turn up, San whispers out a curse and peers around for something else that would be easy on his hyung’s stomach. A bowl of jook would be ideal, but that will take a long time to prepare. Seonghwa needs nutrients now. 

He creates a tray of snacks, containing stray food they had in the apartment. He slices up every kind of fruit he could find, microwaves an instant noodle cup and set the flavor packet aside, and he borrowed one of Mingi’s favorite jello cups. San pours the whistling kettle over a peppermint tea bag and allows it to steep for only 1 minute, not wanting the tea to be too strong. Then he adds an electrolyte drink to the tray for good measure before carrying it out to the coffee table. 

He passes through the corridor again, paying Seonghwa little mind. It seems the older has started to drift off as he rested against the wall. San figures it just buys him time to finish setting up the living room. He takes a quick detour to his hyung's room to gather some additional supplies. 

Upon entering the room, San's hit with the smell of vomit. It doesn't take him long to notice the shallow pool of vomit beside the bed. He follows the trail up and sees another small puddle among the bedsheets. It's suddenly abundantly clear why Seonghwa was so adamant about not returning to his room, feeling too sickly to face the mess he'd made at some earlier point in the night. 

He decides to leave the mess for now, recentering his goal of getting Seonghwa nourished, medicated, and rested. He pulls out some fresh clothes for his hyung, figuring that his current outfit is either sweat soaked or vomit stained. Likely a putrid combination of both. 

He forgoes stealing the blankets off Seonghwa's bed and opts to take the bedding from his own room. But he makes sure to pick up Seonghwa’s Star Wars blanket for some familiarity and comfort. It's a child sized blanket. It hardly covers his torso effectively. But it's a great comfort to Seonghwa, especially when he's feeling sick or overly tired. 

Once San spreads out all the blankets to cover the scratchy fabric of the couch, he returns to find his hyung dozed off right where he's left him. He nudges the older awake. “Hwa-hyung, wake up.” He whispers, “You shouldn't sleep here.” 

Ever the light sleeper, Seonghwa rouses, though he immediately resumes his whimpers. “don't wanna get up.” A sob dies out in the back of his throat, “don't feel good.”

“I know you don't hyung,” San sympathizes, “but I have some things set up that will make you feel better.” He doesn't allow time for Seonghwa to refute before he's helping the older man to his feet and guiding him to the couch. 

Seonghwa's whole weight falls onto the couch, ready to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow that San had laid out for him. He draws the Star Wars blanket close to his face and lets out a relaxed sigh. It feels like home. 

“No, not just yet hyung.” San nearly shouts just to get his hyung's attention. “First, try and get some food down.” He gestures to the options displayed on the coffee table. “Anything, please.” 

“Sannie, my stomach hurts” The older man slurs. “I don't think I can eat anything.” 

“Hyung,” San's voice morphs into a gentle scolding tone. “You need to eat something.” 

“No!” Seonghwa whimpers. “I just need to sleep.” 

“You know if the roles were reversed, you'd be trying to make me eat something.” San doesn't back down, despite his hyung's bratty behavior. He gives up on asking, opting to use a bit more force. He picks up the electrolyte drink and points the straw to Seonghwa’s lips. “take a sip.” 

When Seonghwa opens his mouth to refuse, the straw slides between his lips. He manages three small sips before he pushes the straw out of his mouth. “Cold.” He whines. 

“How about some tea, it's nice and warm by now.” San replaces the drink bottle with the tea cup. “Sit up a bit, I'll help you.” 

Seonghwa finally does as he's told. Propping himself up enough so San can tip the cup against his lips. The tea is warm, sends a wave of comfort through his chilled limbs. And the weak peppermint flavor coats his bubbling stomach. Still, he pushes San away before he's finished the cup. He just found this new comfort, he doesn't want to risk it by filling up too fast. 

San sets the cup down, “jello or apples?” He offers, figuring that the noodles may be too much for his hyung's stomach right now. He's not ecstatic, but he's satisfied with the amount of liquid Seonghwa managed to take but just wants a few bites of food in him as well.

He decides on the jello, likely a result of his natural sweet tooth winning out. San spoon feeds him an astounding five bites before he purses his lips and puts a hand on his stomach. “Done.” The sick man insists. 

“Okay,” San confirms. “Take a little medicine, then you can sleep again.” 

Seonghwa nods and takes the pills San hands him. He only sips a bit more of the electrolyte drink to force the pills down. And finally, he lays back down, settling into the couch and curling himself into a small ball. “You'll stay?” He looks pitifully at San. 

“Of course, hyung. I'll stay.” He leans against the front of the couch, resting his head on his hyung's thigh. 

“Thanks, Sannie.” Seonghwa’s breathing starts to even out as sleep overtakes him, “for taking such good care of me.” 

“Sleep well, Hwa.” San also starts to drift back to sleep, the adrenaline of the past hour finally dying down.

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

A/N: Sorry again for another long absence in sharing fics. I have a few more request fics I'm actively working on and some original ideas I want to flesh out. I know my motivations have been wavering, but I'll get through them in time. I'm finally starting to feel more like myself again, so hopefully, I'll get out of this funk soon. But I make no promises to timing. Just know that I'm still here, still writing as I'm able to. Please accept this overdue Ateez fic as a token of my gratitude.

As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. And please call me out for any errors you notice!

🧡 Aki