#kidnap ch 5 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollgxtz · 3 months ago

Text

His Watchful Eye Pt. 5

Word Count: 11.6k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, kidnapping, syringes, hitting, bloodshed, attempted rape, lots of blood, sylus goes a tad bit crazy, pet names like kitten, sweetie, doll, little mouse, stalking,

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

AN: I decided to make this chapters theme red since it fits the bloodiness of this chapter. This is on A03 as well! Also YALL I'm so sorry, apparently my taglist hasn't been tagging people correctly. It should be fixed now! I’ll go back and fix it on the other lists as well!! Per usual, heed the warnings and enjoy! Next chapter is definitely going to have lots of smut, I’m already writing it 😌

"Your tears, your pain, your misery," Sylus whispers, his voice dripping with a dark intimacy as his hand moves gently to your face. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a tear that hasn’t yet fallen, his touch both tender and terrifying. "It all belongs to me."

“I am the only one who gets to see you cry”

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.6

The darkness had swallowed you whole. When you blink your eyes open, the world is a blur, as though you’re caught between waking and a nightmare. Cold, sharp and biting, is the first thing you feel, seeping into your skin from the damp concrete beneath you. Your nightgown is soaked, sticking to your body, the freezing water from the shower still dripping slowly from the showerhead, an eerie rhythm to the otherwise oppressive silence.

It takes a moment before the memories resurface, and when they do, they crash over you like a wave. The basement. Reese. The other man. The betrayal. Your heart clenches painfully as you recall the way Reese had looked at you when he led you here, his guilt ridden face made you scowl.

How dare he have a conscious when he had led you to your very demise? You had trusted him. Told him about your kidnapping, your escape. He had listened with kind eyes, nodding in all the right places, making you believe he was different—that he was your salvation in a world that had turned cruel. He had seemed so genuine, offering you a place to stay, a promise of safety. But now, that memory feels like poison, a twisted mockery of the trust you had so willingly given him.

How could you have been so naive?

You groan as you try to sit yourself upright, every muscle in your body protesting with sharp pain. The cold has seeped so deeply into your bones that it feels like your limbs are made of lead, heavy and uncooperative. Your fingers dig into the rough concrete as you push against it, your nightgown clinging to your skin, wet and miserable.

Your head spins, the pounding ache a reminder of everything you’ve been through, but you grit your teeth and force yourself to move. Lying there, helpless, isn’t an option. Not anymore.

Each breath is a struggle, shallow and ragged, as you steady yourself against the wall behind you. The dampness of the basement, the steady drip of water in the corner, the faint musty scent of decay—it all feels suffocating, as though the walls are closing in. You blink hard, trying to focus, to ground yourself in the moment, but the betrayal still burns in your mind, cutting deeper than any physical wound.

Reese's face flashes before your eyes again, his soft voice promising safety, and you can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a shaky exhale. Safety. What a cruel joke.

You had simply traded one prison for a colder, darker one.

You look around the basement, squinting in the dim light. Your legs ache as you try to move them, pins and needles shooting through your feet as you attempt to stand. Your body feels battered, but the deeper pain—the one rooted in the betrayal—hurts far worse. Reese wasn’t some random passerby, some kind stranger. He knew what he was doing, and worse, he had listened to your story of suffering and seen you as an opportunity to fulfill some promise.

As you lean against the wall, trying to steady your shaky breath, Reese’s words echo in your mind, gnawing at your already fragile sense of reality.

“I promised them a girl.”

The phrase rattles around in your skull, unsettling and cryptic. What did he mean by that? Who was them?

Your stomach turns, the bile rising in your throat as you replay the memory over and over. Reese had said it shakily, his voice trembling, his eyes wide with barely concealed fear. But his words were soaked in something far darker, something that made your skin crawl the moment they left his lips.

Promised them a girl.

The weight of it sinks in deeper, heavier with each passing moment, like a noose tightening around your neck.

Your hands curl into fists, nails digging sharply into your palms as you struggle to suppress the rising wave of nausea and panic. Every breath feels like a battle, the air thick with dread. You want answers—need answers—but more than anything, you need to get out of here. Every second you spend trapped in this basement feels like a countdown ticking away to something far worse than anything your mind can conjure.

Whatever Reese had promised them, whatever twisted deal he’d made, you won’t let it come to pass. You won’t be some pawn in this dark, twisted game he's playing. You refuse to be reduced to a bargaining chip for them, whoever they are. They might have Reese tangled in their web, but they won’t have you.

Your eyes drift toward the dingy mattress settled on a metal frame, barely visible in the dim light. A tattered towel, a folded pair of sweatpants and a white shirt lie haphazardly on top of it. You hesitate for a moment, the sight catching you off guard. Did Reese leave these here for you?

The thought sends a wave of conflicting emotions through you—anger, confusion, even a twisted sense of pity. Despite everything, despite handing you over to whatever fate awaits, had he still tried to offer some small gesture of comfort? Or had this been planned, just part of the sick arrangement, a way to keep you alive long enough for them?

You shake the thought from your mind. It doesn’t matter.

The cold clings to you, a constant, suffocating presence in your wet nightgown. Your teeth are still chattering, your skin icy to the touch. Without thinking too much about it, you rush over to the mattress, snatching the towel and the sweatpants. The rough fabric of the towel is worn, but it's warm enough as you rub it over your chilled skin, drying the water that’s soaked through your night gown.

With shaking hands, you strip off your wet, heavy dress and quickly pull on the dry sweatpants and t shirt. The warmth is immediate, a small, fleeting relief that feels almost like a luxury in this basement. You wish they weren't so loose, but it’s better than nothing.

Your body is still cold, still trembling, but the damp heaviness has lessened. You feel lighter, a little less trapped by the elements, even if the air around you remains heavy with the weight of everything that has yet to happen.

Reese’s face flashes in your mind again, his nervous, guilt-ridden eyes, and you can’t help but wonder—was this his attempt at an apology? His way of making up for the unforgivable?

Abruptly, you hear it – footsteps above, faint but unmistakable. Your entire body tenses as you freeze in place, straining to listen. The whispers that follow are barely audible through the thick ceiling, but you can catch snippets of words, just enough to recognize one of the voices: Reese.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage as you make your way towards the metal hatch at the top of the stairs, every step agonizing from the cold and strain. You push through the pain, desperate for more information.

You press your ear against the frigid metal, the voices growing clearer yet still muffled. Reese's voice is shaky and filled with nervous energy, like when he made that dreadful promise to "them."

"She said she was kidnapped," Reese's voice trembles, sending a wave of chills down your spine.

A cold sweat breaks out across your skin. A lump forms in your throat as you strain to listen, your mind racing. You had trusted him with everything, thinking he would help. The other voice – deep and calculated – interrupts.

"By who?" he demands harshly.

"I don't know," Reese replies, panic evident in his voice. "She didn't give names…I didn't ask…I didn't think…"

"Idiot," the man hisses angrily, cutting off Reese's rambling. There's a moment of silence before heavy footsteps approach closer. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.

You hear something unmistakable—a faint scraping sound. Your blood runs cold as you slowly realize what’s happening.

The metal handle of the hatch begins to turn.

It’s a slow, deliberate movement, the iron grinding against itself with a low, ominous creak that makes your breath catch in your throat. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening as you stare at the hatch, watching the handle twist further, the tension of the lock giving way with a soft, metallic click.

Panic floods through you as the realization hits like a punch to the gut—they’re about to open the hatch.

The handle continues to turn, and with a surge of panic, you pull away from the hatch. Your body moves before your mind can fully process, instincts kicking in. You scramble down the creaky wooden stairs, your legs protesting with every movement, but you push through the pain.

Each step feels like it takes an eternity, the sound of the hatch above grinding against your nerves. You reach the bottom, your breath ragged, and without a second thought, you make a desperate dive under the bed.

You scramble under the grimy mattress, your heart pounding as you press your body flat against the cold floor. The space beneath the bed is cramped, dark, and thick with dust, but you force yourself to stay still, biting back your panic. Your breathing comes in short, shaky bursts, but you try to control it, barely daring to inhale as you listen to the creak of the metal hatch swinging open.

The footsteps echo louder now, descending the wooden stairs, each step making your pulse race faster. You watch from your hiding place, the dim light casting shadows across the room as the first pair of feet—Reese's—comes into view. His sneakers shuffle nervously against the floor. Right behind him, heavier boots thud down the steps—boots that belong to someone much more imposing, someone far more dangerous.

You peek through the gloom, barely daring to lift your head.

Reese speaks first, his voice shaky. “I-I swear, I don’t know who kidnapped her. She just told me she was running, that she escaped. I didn’t ask for details.” There’s a tremor in his voice, thick with fear.

The other man’s voice is low, cold. “And you didn’t think to get more information? You were too busy playing hero.”

You didn't recognize this voice. He wasn't the one from earlier that had helped Reese bring you down here.

Reese mumbles something incoherent, but you can hear his terror. The other man clearly isn’t buying it. The booted footsteps hit the last step, and the man takes a slow, deliberate step into the basement.

You curl up tighter, heart racing, your body nearly paralyzed with fear as you catch sight of him. He’s taller than Reese, broader, with an intimidating presence that fills the room. His voice cuts through the tension. “Where is she, Reese? You promised us a girl. So, where is she?”

Reese stammers, his anxiety palpable. “She’s—she’s here, I swear, I locked the hatch. She couldn’t have gone anywhere.”

The man lets out a slow exhale, clearly unimpressed. “She better be. Otherwise, you’ll have hell to pay.”

You can feel the weight of the man’s presence shifting, scanning the room, and you shrink further into the darkness, praying that the shadows will keep you hidden. The dread mounts as the sound of their steps grows louder.

Your heart races, every muscle tense as the heavy boots come to a stop right beside the bed. You can feel the air shift, the man's presence looming dangerously above you. His shadow stretches over the mattress, and for a second, you think maybe—just maybe—he'll move on. Maybe he won't look under here.

But then, in one swift motion, he crouches down.

His eyes lock onto yours, blue and calculating, a cruel smile playing at the edges of his lips. Your stomach drops, panic surging through you like wildfire. You try to scramble backward, to escape deeper under the bed, but it's too late. His hand shoots out, iron-tight fingers wrapping around your ankle.

"No more hiding, little mouse," he growls, his voice thick with menace.

You kick and thrash, but he’s far too strong. With a brutal yank, he drags you out from under the bed, your nails scraping uselessly against the concrete floor as you try to find some kind of grip. Fear pulses through you, sharp and overwhelming, as you're pulled out into the open.

"Got her," the man says, his grip on your ankle tightening painfully. He hauls you upright, forcing you to stand even as your legs buckle beneath you.

Reese is standing off to the side, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with guilt and fear. He doesn’t say a word as the man forces you up, his cold fingers digging into your arm now, holding you in place.

The man looks you over, his smile fading as he studies you with dark, unreadable eyes. "This is her?" he says, glancing at Reese, his voice a mixture of disbelief and something far more dangerous.

Reese stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y-yes. I swear. She’s the one."

The man turns back to you, his expression hardening. "Good," he mutters darkly, tightening his grip on your arm until pain shoots through your shoulder.

You bit back a cry of pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction. The man's grip tightened further, his fingers digging into your flesh like steel talons. Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage as you fought to keep your composure.

"Let. Me. Go." You hissed through clenched teeth, each word dripping with venom.

The man's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Feisty, are we? Hilarious. Won't last long though".

He released your arm abruptly, causing you to stumble. As you regained your footing, you noticed Reese had retreated to a corner, his face a mask of guilt and fear. The betrayal stung, but you pushed the feeling aside. There would be time for that later. Right now, survival was your only priority.

The men turned toward the metal hatch at the top of the stairs, drawn to the sound of heels clacking against the wooden steps. You tensed, every muscle in your body coiling with anticipation as another pair of legs appeared, descending with an air of confidence. A woman stepped into the basement, her dark hair swinging with each precise step, her sharp brown eyes surveying the room with calm, calculated detachment. She was dressed in a crisp, business-casual outfit, perfectly put together, every detail deliberate.

Her heels struck the floor with a final, authoritative click as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her gaze locking onto you immediately. There was no warmth in her eyes, no recognition of you as a person—only cold assessment, as though you were an object, a piece of inventory.

She didn’t speak right away, her expression unreadable as she glanced at the man beside you, then at Reese huddled in the corner. Her presence demanded attention, a silent command of the room that made your skin crawl.

“Is this the girl?” she asked at last, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of impatience.

The man nodded, his smirk never faltering. “She’s the one boss.”

The woman’s eyes swept over you again, lingering on you for a moment longer than before. You felt her gaze like ice, sharp and invasive, as if she could see through you, past your fear, right down to your core.

“She doesn’t look like much,” she remarked, almost casually, though there was a quiet menace in her tone. “But she’ll do hopefully.”

Your heart dropped, dread pooling in your stomach as her words hung in the air. Whatever Reese had gotten you into, it wasn’t just a betrayal—it was something far more dangerous. And now, you were caught in the middle of it.

Your mind raced as you tried to think of a way out, but the walls felt like they were closing in, your options shrinking with every second that passed. You had to do something—anything—before it was too late.

You certainly couldn't fight your way out of here. It was 3v1, and the days of little food and constant stress had weakened you significantly. Your limbs felt like lead, and any attempt to resist would be useless, not against these people—especially with the woman’s calculating gaze locked onto you.

"Wh-what is this?" you stammer, trying to sound calm, but the tremor in your voice betrays you. "What do you plan to do with me?"

The woman turned toward you, her expression cold, detached. She raised an eyebrow, as though mildly amused by your question, but there was no kindness in her eyes—only a chilling indifference.

“Does it really matter?” she replied, her voice smooth but laced with cruelty. She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor with each deliberate step, her presence looming over you. “You’re not in a position to negotiate or ask questions, are you?”

You felt your pulse race, panic swelling in your chest. You tried to stand straighter, to show some semblance of strength, but your body betrayed you, trembling from exhaustion and fear.

The man who had grabbed you before let out a low chuckle. “She’s already scared. Good. Makes things easier.”

Reese, from his corner, shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. The guilt was written all over his face, but he said nothing, didn’t even try to stop what was happening. He had already played his part in this nightmare.

The woman tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “You’ve been promised to someone very important, and it’s best if you cooperate. Things will be... easier for you.”

Your stomach dropped at the implications of her words. Promised? You were no longer just a person—you were a transaction.

Your mouth went dry as you forced the question past your lips, your voice shaky. "Promised for what?" You had to know. Every terrible possibility ran through your mind, but the uncertainty gnawed at you even more.

The woman paused, a brief flicker of something—pity, maybe?—crossing her face. She sighed softly, like she was indulging a child who didn’t know better. “I guess it couldn’t hurt for you to know,” she said, her tone almost bored. “Won’t make much difference in the end.”

She stepped closer, crouching down so she was eye-level with you. Her gaze softened slightly, but the words that followed made your blood run cold.

“You’ve been promised to a very wealthy man,” she began, her voice calm, detached. “His wife...she’s dying. Organ failure. They’ve tried everything—medications, various treatments—but nothing’s worked.”

Your mind raced, struggling to process the meaning behind her words. Organ failure? The realization hit you like a sledgehammer, a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach as her words continued.

“He’s willing to pay any price for a match,” she explained with chilling indifference, her eyes boring into yours. And if you're a perfect match for her...” She paused, letting the weight of the situation sink in before she added, almost with a shrug, “Your organs will save her life.”

A sickening silence followed, the air thick with your disbelief.

They were going to harvest your organs.

Panic clawed at your throat, and your body felt like it was in freefall. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The cold, brutal truth hung in the air between you and the woman, her pitying gaze cutting you deeper than anything else.

“You should feel honored,” she added, her voice devoid of any real sympathy. “You’ll be giving someone like her a second chance at life.”

Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears. Your survival wasn’t just threatened—it was already decided.

Your body went numb as her words settled over you, the realization of what they planned twisting your stomach into knots. But as the silence stretched on, the woman seemed to catch herself, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

“We don’t know for sure if you’re a match yet,” she admitted, almost thoughtfully. “But you're a woman, so that's already one criteria met. And it’s just a matter of time before we find out the second.”

She reached into the pocket of her crisp jacket and pulled out a syringe and a small vial. The sight of it made your blood run cold. Your heart hammered against your chest, each beat a sharp reminder of how close you were to losing everything.

“I need to take a blood sample,” she said, her tone almost professional now. “Don’t bother resisting. We’ll get what we need, one way or another.”

Your limbs froze, panic surging through your veins. You wanted to run, to scream, but your legs felt like they were locked in place. The walls of the basement seemed to close in tighter around you, and for a moment, all you could focus on was the needle in her hand.

The woman’s dark brown eyes flicked toward you, assessing your reaction. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. It’s just a small test,” she said, almost like she was coaxing you into compliance. “If you’re not a match, maybe you'll get lucky. You're a woman after all, you at least have other parts you can use to gain your freedom."

She stepped closer, the syringe gleaming under the dim basement light. Your body tensed, the urge to fight back bubbling up inside you. But you were weak, outnumbered, and utterly trapped.

“Hold out your arm,” she said softly, like she was giving you a choice.

Your breath caught in your throat as the syringe gleamed ominously in her hand. Your heart hurt as you glanced toward Reese, who stood in the corner, guilt-ridden and pale, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t help you—he wouldn’t help you.

You glanced back between her and the syringe, the world closing in tighter with each second. Your mind raced for a way out, some escape, but it was futile. Even if you refused, they’d force you—there was no other option.

You took a shaky breath and slowly extended your arm, the gesture more out of survival instinct than anything. Live long enough to find another way out, you told yourself, trying to cling to that sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was still time.

The woman smiled, satisfied, as she knelt beside you, her movements smooth and practiced. “Smart choice,” she said, wrapping a rubber band around your arm to prepare for the blood draw.

You winced as the needle pierced your skin, but you forced yourself to stay still. The vial began to fill with dark red blood, and the woman worked with a cold efficiency, as though she’d done this a hundred times before.

After what felt like an eternity, she withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball to your arm. “There,” she said, standing up and eyeing the shiny vial filled with your blood. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You wanted to lash out, to scream, but your body was too drained, your mind too scattered. She was right—it didn’t matter if it was easy or hard. What mattered was what came next.

The woman turned to the man with the heavy boots. “Get this to the lab,” she ordered, her tone brisk. “The results will tell us everything we need.”

He nodded and took the vial, disappearing back up the stairs without a word. The metal hatch closed behind him with a heavy thud, and the basement fell back into tense silence.

The woman stayed behind, her eyes never leaving you. “Now we wait,” she said, crossing her arms. “If you’re lucky, you won’t be a match. But if you are… well, we’ll be in touch.”

You swallowed hard, dread pooling in your stomach. The blood had been drawn, the wheels set in motion—and there was nothing you could do but wait for your fate to be decided.

Reese shifted uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes downcast, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you.

The woman glanced at him, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “I suggest you keep her in good condition until we know for sure. We wouldn’t want her damaged, would we?”

Reese flinched but nodded, his guilt written all over his face.

And with that, the woman turned on her heel and left, her heels clacking up the stairs, the metal hatch sealing you back in the basement.

You were alone again—alone with Reese and the suffocating weight of your uncertain future.

As the metal hatch slammed shut, trapping you back in the dim, suffocating basement, something inside you snapped. The overwhelming dread, the helplessness, the betrayal—it all collided at once. Your chest tightened, and your blood boiled with the rage that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Your eyes locked onto Reese, who was still slouched in the corner, avoiding your gaze. His entire body trembled, but all you could see was the man who had led you into this nightmare. The man who had stood by and watched as they drew your blood like you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

You trusted him.

"You," you spat, your voice cracking with fury. "I trusted you, Reese."

He flinched at your words, but he didn’t look up. His hands were shaking, balled into fists at his sides, but that didn’t matter. He had made his choice.

"I trusted you!" you shouted, your voice growing louder, the raw emotion burning through your exhaustion. "I told you everything—I told you about my escape, I thought you were trying to help me!"

Reese's lips trembled, and he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, guilt etched deep into his pale face. "I... I didn't have a choice," he stammered, his voice weak, barely audible. "They—they would've killed me if I didn’t—"

"Spare me!" you snapped, cutting him off. "You sold me, Reese! You handed me over to them like I was nothing!" The weight of his betrayal hit you all over again, the pain of it cutting deeper than any physical wound. You had told him about your kidnapping, he had watched you sob over Xavier, had you thinking he was someone you could trust, someone who cared.

Tears of frustration burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t —not now, not for him of all people. "You knew what they were going to do to me," you continued, your voice trembling with anger. "You knew, and you did it anyway."

Reese shook his head, his voice cracking as he mumbled, "I—I didn't know they'd—about the organs. I thought..." He trailed off, as if the excuse could somehow absolve him. But it didn’t.

"Thought what?"

"I'd thought they'd just...rape you. And then dump you somewhere..." he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "Like the others.."

"Like the others?!" you said, your voice rising. "You...you've done this before? You're...sick! Fucking sick!"

He shrank back, visibly cowering under your words. "I didn't have a choice," he repeated weakly, like it was the only thing he could cling to.

"You always have a choice!" you shot back, your voice cracking from the strain. "You had a choice to be a good person, and you chose to betray me."

The room was silent after that, the air thick with tension. Reese had no response, nothing to say that could possibly justify what he'd done. He just stood there, looking more like a frightened child than the man who had so easily handed you over.

You swallowed hard, your chest heaving with the weight of your emotions. "I hope it was worth it," you said coldly, the anger fading into something far more painful. "I hope whatever they promised you was worth selling me like this."

Reese remained silent, his eyes cast down, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but it held no weight, no real meaning. Before you could respond, he suddenly rushed past you, his footsteps heavy on the cold floor. He didn’t look back.

You watched, stunned, as he hurried up the wooden stairs, his movements frantic, almost as if he couldn’t bear to stay in the room with you a second longer. The old wooden stairs groaned under his weight, the sound harsh in the suffocating silence.

You stood frozen in place, your mind whirling with a mix of anger, disbelief, and the crushing weight of betrayal. His retreating figure disappeared through the metal hatch, and the sound of it slamming shut echoed through the basement like a final punctuation to his cowardice.

The room fell eerily quiet, the air thick with everything left unsaid. You were alone again, left with nothing but the cold, the dull ache of exhaustion, and the horrifying knowledge of what awaited you.

You slumped against the wall, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all at once. The basement felt smaller, colder, and more suffocating than before.

Days blurred into each other, each one indistinguishable from the next. The cold, damp basement became your prison, a place where time felt meaningless. Your mind drifted constantly, a mixture of fear, anger, and hopelessness gnawing at you from all sides. You found yourself thinking about Xavier—wondering if he was still out there, still searching for you. He had to be, didn’t he? You tried to cling to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he’d find you before it was too late.

You wished you had listened to him when he said he had a bad feeling about you going with Reese. How could you have been so stupid?

Reese came in and out of the basement sporadically, never staying for long. He kept his distance, barely making eye contact, as though seeing the consequences of his betrayal was too much for him to handle. He left you basic necessities—pads, water, a couple of small meals—but nothing more. Every time he disappeared, it felt like another thread of hope was being pulled away, leaving you more isolated than ever.

You pondered attacking Reese when he came down here next. He seemed fidgety and not as strong as the others. But still strong nonetheless. And in your weakened state, he could still take you down, or threaten you with the gun again.

At some point, you drifted off to sleep, exhaustion overtaking you in the cold dark. Your period had finally subsided, and so did the awful cramping, allowing you to rest at least somewhat peacefully. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but the sound of the metal hatch creaking open startled you awake. Instinctively, you didn’t move, thinking it was Reese again—another silent, guilty visit to drop something off before fleeing.

But then, a deep, gruff voice pierced the silence. A voice you recognized, but not in the way that brought comfort.

“Well, look who’s sleeping like a baby,” the voice sneered, low and menacing.

Your heart sank, and fear surged through you as you realized it wasn’t Reese. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, and your breath caught in your throat when you shifted to look at the voice.

It was the man—the one who had helped Reese bring you down here in the first place. His heavy boots clomped against the wooden stairs as he descended, and his shadow loomed over you, large and threatening. His expression was cold, his eyes calculating as they swept over you, like he was assessing just how broken you’d become since last seeing him.

“Thought maybe you’d die of boredom or despair by now,” he muttered, amusement tinged in his voice. “Guess you’ve got a little more fight in you than I thought.”

You swallowed hard, your body going rigid. You stayed still, instinct telling you that any sudden movement might provoke him. The air around him seemed darker, more dangerous than Reese’s jittery cowardice. This man was different—he was in control, and he wasn’t afraid of you.

“What do you want?” you finally managed to whisper, your voice shaky but defiant.

He stepped closer, his boots thudding against the concrete floor, the sound making your skin crawl. His smirk widened, and without warning, he crouched down, bringing his face level with yours.

“What I want,” he said, his voice low and mocking, “is to see if you’re worth anything besides your organs doll.”

The threat in his words hung heavy in the air, and you knew with chilling clarity that whatever came next, this man wasn’t here to make things easier for you.

The man crouched in front of you, his smirk growing wider as he watched the fear flicker across your face. You tried to keep still, to steady your breathing, but your body betrayed you—a small shiver ran through you, and you knew he’d seen it. His eyes glinted with satisfaction, feeding off your discomfort.

He leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his hot breath on your skin. "Reese might be too soft to touch a woman, but I’m not." His voice was a low, rumbling threat. "You’re property after all. But it'd be a shame to let sweet pussy go to waste before they cut you open."

You recoiled in horror at his depraved words, bile rising in your throat. The man straightened to his full height, towering over your prostrate form with an air of malevolent authority.

"So here's how this is going to go," he said casually, as if discussing the weather rather than your impending ravishment and dismemberment. "I'm going to have my fun..." He smirked cruelly. "And you are going to lay there and take it. Use any teeth and I'll rip them out of your head. Got it?"

Your mind raced, desperate to find some escape from the waking nightmare. But with Reese too cowardice to come down and interfere, and this sadistic brute clearly intent on violating you in the most degrading ways imaginable , you knew you were utterly at his mercy.

A strangled cry escaped your lips as tears streamed down your face. Despite your best efforts, the man's lecherous gaze only widened at the sight of you in distress. His grip on your arm tightened, filling you with pain.

"Go ahead and cry," he mocked. "It only turns me on even more, doll."

You screamed, desperately trying to free yourself and escape his grasp, but he was too strong. He slammed you back down onto the dirty mattress as you fought to kick him away. But he easily overpowered you and forced your leg back against the bed.

"Stop! Please!" you pleaded, horrified as he reached for the waistband of your sweatpants with his rough, calloused hands.

Panic surged through you as his fingers grazed your skin. In a burst of desperate strength, you twisted violently and managed to wrench your leg free. You kicked out hard, your foot connecting solidly with his jaw. He reeled back with a pained grunt, momentarily stunned.

"I said, lay there and take it" he growled, bringing his palm down against your face in a deafening slap. Angry hot pain radiates against your face and you cry out, tears spilling out faster now.

He wastes no time flipping you around, pinning you on your stomach against the bed. You sobbed loudly as he finishes pulling your sweatpants past your rear, rubbing his cold hands against the cloth of your underwear.

"Nice butt, smooth skin..." he growls, tugging off your underwear past your legs despite your struggle. "Oh this is gonna be so much fun."

Your underwear hits the concrete floor with a soft patter and your mind goes numb. There was truly no way out of this. Maybe the struggle was futile all along.

It was time to accept this.

Your body goes limp as you try to dissociate from the sound of the man unbuckling his belt. The sound of him shuffling with his underwear. The feel of his rough hands as he grabs your hips and raises them towards his groin, forcing you onto your elbows. You notice his breathing gets heavier as he takes in the sight of your exposed cunt.

"He shuffles in his pockets for a bit, looking for something. Your mind drifts off as he does so, thinking of the time Sylus had you in a similar position.

The morning he had promised to only do it once that day if you didn't fight him. You had picked the position yourself, not wanting to see him enter you again. At least that's what you told yourself.

Truthfully, you hated the way your face would heat up and your cunt grew wetter at the sight of his toned chest and stomach. The deep rumble of his voice in your ear as he praised you for taking him in all the way. You didn't know why your body reacted the way it did to him but it scared you. You had chalked it up to it just being an involuntary bodily reaction.

But there was no wetness when this beast touched you, no warmth or aching heat in your core.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tearing plastic.

Ah, he brought a condom. At least you wouldn't have to worry about catching any diseases before you were hacked to pieces.

You almost laugh at the thought but nothing was funny truly. The man grumbles a bit and rolls the condom onto his thick shaft gently, his knuckles popping as he slides it down. The smell of latex and lubricant fill the air momentarily. You wish you could gag at the smell of it, but you're too scared to move anymore. He positions himself, aligning his tip with you. You brace yourself for the pain that is sure to come, your heart pounding in your chest as he presses forward.

"If you make a sound, I'll beat your ass stupid. Got it?" he growls.

You say nothing as he begins trying to push into you, but he had clumsily misjudged where your slit was and kept missing. You couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh, this guy clearly didn't have much experience with the female body. You feel his hand slam down on your head, causing you to cry out.

"Ain't. Shit. Funny..." he snarled, gripping the side of your face even harder. You stifle another sob, trying your hardest to breathe against the mattress.

Still, he kept trying to force his cock inside you, every clumsy miss rubbing salt in the wound of your complete helplessness. He leans back momentarily to try and balance his cock against you. Your head throbs under his grip and you feel your eyes starting to gently close, sticky tears threaded between your lashes.

Your mind, desperate for an escape from the current nightmare, drifts back to Sylus. Memories of him rise to the surface, unbidden yet comforting in their own strange way. You recall his gentle gaze, the way he’d look at you when you opened your eyes in the morning—those moments when everything was still, and his presence felt like a soft cocoon of warmth around you. You’d never once seen him fall asleep before you. No, Sylus clearly only slept when it was "morning". Your circadian rhythms had always been completely opposite, and you knew, deep down, that he was likely watching over you as you slept.

It had never really felt invasive though. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel... cherished. As though, in his world of shadows, you were the one light he couldn’t take his eyes off of.

No one had ever looked at you with such adoring eyes—not even Xavier. Though Xavier had cared for you, and there were moments where you saw glimpses of that same tenderness, it was different with Sylus. Something deeper. Something more intense, as though you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

The thought made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected. Even now, locked in this nightmare, it was Sylus’s gaze that haunted you—not Reese’s guilt, not Xavier’s concern, but the way Sylus had seen you, like you were fragile and powerful all at once.

Despite everything, he had shown you the most kindness out of anyone in this horrid place.

"Sylus..." your voice escapes in a broken whisper, a fragile plea lost beneath the weight of fear. Silent tears streak down your face, and your body shakes uncontrollably beneath the man's looming presence. His grunting had finally stopped, but the air between you buzzes with his barely-contained fury. His body is tense, frustrated—still unable to force himself into you.

With a snarl, he suddenly flips you onto your back, his hands rough and merciless. The room spins for a second, and your breath catches in your throat. He looms over you, his eyes dark and burning with a cruel light.

"What the hell did I say about talking?," he growls, voice low and dangerous. His hand rises, fist clenched, muscles rippling as he prepares to strike. Your heart lurches, and a terrified squeal slips out, unbidden. You squeeze your eyes shut, body curling in on itself instinctively, trembling as you wait for the blow to fall.

The seconds stretch unbearably long.

But the pain never comes.

Instead, the air shifts—thickening, buzzing with something far darker than the man hovering above you. His fist, still poised to strike, halts mid-air. His breath stutters. Eyes wide with shock, he suddenly clutches at his throat, his face twisting into something grotesque, panicked. His mouth opens as if to scream, but only a strangled gasp escapes.

"Is that anyway to talk to a lady?"

You blink, unsure if you’re seeing it right—red mist, thin tendrils coiling through the air like living smoke. It winds around him, constricting. His body spasms as if in a silent scream, but no sound comes, only those terrible, wet choking noises.

His eyes meet yours for a fleeting second, wide with horror, before his body jerks violently. With a force that seems inhuman, he’s wrenched from above you, flung across the room like a rag doll. The impact as he slams into the far wall is sickening—bones cracking against stone, the wet sound of flesh collapsing under the blow.

He screams in agony, his body convulsing violently on the hard concrete as his cries echo through the space.

Your breath comes in shallow, rapid gasps, the red mist still hanging in the air, pulsing like it has a life of its own before it slowly starts to fade. The air grows colder in its absence, the immediate threat gone, but the tension in your chest refuses to ease. It's over, but the chaos is still fresh, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Then you see him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his white hair touched with streaks of silver, and those unmistakable crimson eyes—sharp, intense, but not as lethal as they were a moment ago. There's no mistaking Sylus, even through the haze of confusion clouding your mind. You blink, trying to process it all. He’s here, finally, but the emotions swirling inside you are a tangled mess.

He steps toward you, slow and deliberate, his gaze softening the closer he gets. Despite the relief that comes with his presence, something else churns beneath the surface—frustration, maybe even anger. He’s here, but it took so long. Too long.

"Why do you look so shocked?" Sylus smirks, his voice low and teasing, as if the sight of him towering over you like this is the most natural thing in the world. He tilts his head, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he studies your expression. "You called my name, didn’t you?"

You open your mouth, but no words come. Relief washes over you, but it’s tangled with confusion and resentment. Part of you wants to collapse into his arms, to finally feel safe, but another part of you burns with anxiety—why doesn't he look angry at you?

Sylus’s smirk softens into something more genuine, as if he senses the storm inside you. "I’m here now," he says, his voice quieter, almost gentle. But it doesn’t calm the whirlwind in your chest. You don’t know if you want to yell at him or thank him. Maybe both.

All you know is that the sight of him, standing there like he’s always been, stirs something deep within you that you can’t quite name. You're suddenly aware again of your half-nakedness and you rush to put back on your panties and sweatpants, much to Sylus's amusement.

“Wh-what took you so long?” you finally quip, a sharp edge to your voice as you lift your chin, deciding to meet his presence with defiance instead of relief. The condescension rolls off your tongue, even as your heart still pounds from the aftermath. You can feel the tension in your own body, a mix of trauma and pent-up frustration, but you mask it behind a cold stare.

Sylus moves toward the hyperventilating man still writhing on the ground, his gaze briefly flickering with something unreadable before a low chuckle escapes his lips. The sound reverberates through the room, rich and deep, completely unbothered by your biting words. His crimson eyes flick to you, amusement dancing in them, as if your sharp attitude was exactly what he’d anticipated.

“Is this the thanks I get, kitten?” he muses, his tone playful, yet carrying that underlying edge he always seems to have. A teasing smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he towers over you, utterly relaxed, like your defiance is nothing more than an amusing game to him.

"I save you, and all you’ve got is attitude?" He raises an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips widening as if he’s enjoying this far too much. “You’re getting harder to please.”

The comment, laced with a playful challenge, lingers in the air. He seems utterly unaffected, like your frustration has only fueled his amusement, and for a moment, it’s hard to tell whether you want to snap back or let your guard down. That smirk of his—so infuriatingly calm and knowing—pulls you deeper into the whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Before you can spit out a retort, the sound of scuffling and harsh footsteps echoes down the stairwell. Your attention snaps toward the noise just as Reese is unceremoniously dragged down the steps, his pleas and panicked protests filling the room. The twins, Luke and Kieran, have him by the arms, hauling him down with little effort. Reese stumbles on the last step, crashing face-first onto the concrete.

Luke and Kieran exchange satisfied glances, snickering as they stand over him, a mixture of triumph and mockery in voices.

"We got him, boss," Luke announces with a smirk, nudging the groaning man with his boot. "Tried to run, but he fell flat on his face." He punctuates his words with another casual kick to Reese's side. "Much like he did just now."

Reese winces in pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he slowly lifts his head. His gaze darts frantically around the room, his face paling as he realizes who surrounds him. His eyes widen in terror, flitting between you, Sylus, and the man still crumpled on the ground beside him, writhing in pain.

"S-Sylus..." Reese stammers, his voice barely a whisper as it cracks with fear. His entire body begins to tremble, the weight of what he’s done crashing down on him. "You ran away from Sylus...?" The disbelief in his own voice is palpable, as if fleeing from someone like Sylus was a death sentence all on its own.

Sylus’s crimson eyes narrow as he watches you closely, his expression shifting to something darker—something possessive. He takes a deliberate step toward you, the casual ease he held moments ago now replaced with a quiet intensity. His gaze flicks to Reese, then back to you, and though his smile remains, there’s no warmth behind it.

"So," Sylus begins, voice smooth but tinged with something uneasy, "seems the two of you have gotten well acquainted?" The question feels loaded, not out of curiosity, but something more. His eyes bore into yours, as if searching for answers beyond your words. The smirk on his lips falters just slightly, betraying the irritation he’s trying to mask.

The tension between you grows thicker, his posture subtly shifting as if he’s placing himself between you and Reese. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t so much as glance at the trembling man on the ground. His focus is solely on you, as though the possibility of friendship with someone, especially another man, unsettles him more than the danger you just faced.

You shake your head immediately, the denial spilling from your lips without hesitation. "We’re not close!" you say quickly, the firmness in your voice leaving no room for doubt. "He’s no one to me."

Sylus’s eyes remain locked on yours, his crimson gaze intense, but you don’t falter. "Reese… he tricked me," you continue, the words coming faster now. "He’s the reason I’m down here in the first place. I didn’t come down here willingly. I followed him, stupidly thinking he was going to help me."

Your last words are filled with malice as your eyes flick to Reese, who cowers on the ground, unable to meet your glare. You shoot him a look of pure disdain, your anger boiling over at how easily he had deceived you, how he had dragged you into this mess.

Before you can say anything more, Sylus reaches out, his hand cool against your hair as he rubs the top of your head with an almost unnerving gentleness. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s the smug look on his face that catches you off guard.

“I know, sweetie,” Sylus says, his voice smooth and dripping with that signature arrogance. His eyes glitter with amusement as he watches you closely, his smirk deepening. “I watched you disappear into this house. I saw everything.” He speaks as if he had been in control of the situation from the start, his tone laced with confidence, as if he was always one step ahead.

"You were following me the entire time?" you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief as you try to piece together how much of this Sylus had been controlling from the shadows. Sylus merely chuckles, the sound rich and full of amusement, like your confusion was a source of entertainment for him.

"Something like that," he replies casually, his smirk widening. "I had Mephisto follow you."

As if on cue, swirl of red mist begins to materialize on Sylus's shoulder. The mist condenses around the form until, with a sharp, eerie caw, a large black crow appears, its wings flapping beside Sylus’s head. The bird’s eyes glow faintly, a reflection of the same crimson hue in Sylus’s gaze.

"Mephisto?" you and Reese say at the same time, your voices overlapping in disbelief.

You take a step back, staring at the bird in shock. "Mephisto... he's been that bird this whole time?" The revelation hits you like a slap in the face. You'd seen the bird before—many times, in fact—but you’d never thought it was more than just an ordinary creature. Now, the sight of it perched so confidently on Sylus’s shoulder, surrounded by that ominous red mist, makes your head spin.

Reese, still on the ground, stares up at the bird and then back at you, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "I thought your name was Meph—" he begins, his voice trembling as he looks between you and Sylus, but his words are abruptly cut off.

Sylus’s expression hardens instantly, the playful amusement evaporating as he glares down at Reese with pure disdain. His eyes darken, the malice in them palpable as he takes a step toward Reese, who shrinks back, trembling.

"Don’t talk to her," Sylus snaps, his voice cold and sharp, dripping with venom. The possessiveness in his tone is undeniable, a clear warning that Reese’s mere presence, let alone his attempt to speak to you, is unforgivable in Sylus’s eyes. The tension in the room grows suffocating, the danger swirling around Sylus like a storm barely contained, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his protectiveness—both unsettling and strangely reassuring.

Mephisto caws again, the shrill sound echoing through the room as if punctuating Sylus’s command.

Reese looks away, trembling on the ground. Your head spins, barely able to process what's going on here. You suddenly feel dizzy, as if the room was getting smaller and smaller.

You hadn't truly escaped from him. Not once, the entire time you had been gone. He had been watching. His influence here stretched farther than you could ever imagine.

Reese looks away, trembling on the ground, clearly too terrified to challenge Sylus any further. His presence becomes insignificant in the midst of everything else crashing down around you. Your head spins, the room seeming to close in on you as the weight of the situation presses against your chest. It’s suddenly hard to breathe, as if the air itself is suffocating you. You try to steady yourself, but a dizzying realization takes hold.

Every step you’d taken, every move you thought was yours alone—he had been watching.

Mephisto.

Sylus had seen everything, every moment you thought you were free, unraveling in front of your eyes now like a cruel illusion. His influence, his reach—it stretched farther than you could have ever imagined.

The invisible leash you thought you’d slipped off, the one you were so sure you'd broken, had never left your neck at all. It had been there the whole time, just waiting to tighten when he decided.

Your pulse quickens, panic settling in as the walls seem to close in tighter, the room shrinking around you. The thought of being watched, controlled, all while you believed you had any autonomy—it sends a cold wave of dread down your spine. Sylus’s smirk, the way he speaks so casually about it, only amplifies the feeling that you were never really out of his grasp.

He knew. He always knew where you were.

And here he stands, calm and possessive, like he’s merely reclaiming what was his all along.

The weight of it all becomes too much to bear, and your legs give way beneath you. You crumble to the floor, feeling as though the world has closed in around you. The realization sinks deeper, suffocating you with the cold, hard truth—despite all your efforts, all your fighting, you’re right back where you started. The leash had never been cut. You hadn’t escaped. And now, the path ahead is one you thought you'd left behind.

Your body trembles, you let out a sob, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions—fear, frustration, resignation. But before the panic can fully take over, you feel a hand brush against your shoulder, light and reassuring. Sylus crouches down beside you, his presence filling the space, his voice low and deceptively soothing.

"Shh, kitten," he murmurs softly, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a caress, though it only twists the knife deeper in your chest. "It’s alright. I’ve found you, its okay." His tone is affectionate, but there’s something twisted lurking beneath the surface, a dark possessiveness wrapped in that comforting voice.

"You're mine again," Sylus whispers, his voice soft but laced with an iron-clad certainty. His fingers delicately trace small circles on your back, sending involuntary shivers up your spine. You don't look at him, unable to meet his eyes. Your chest tightens, and you can feel the threat of tears building, teetering dangerously close to spilling over.

As much as you wanted to leave this wretched place, to escape the nightmare of it all, the thought of being trapped with him—completely under his control—felt just as suffocating. Maybe more. Yet, despite that suffocating feeling, your body betrays you. You’re not pulling away from him. You’re not resisting.

Why weren’t you leaning away from him right now?

"Don't cry," he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your skin, drowning out the cold, damp air of the basement. "Not now. Not in front of them."

Before you can process his words, the room fills with a new, horrific sound. Reese and the bleeding man on the ground suddenly scream, the agony ripping from their throats. Red tendrils of mist swirl violently around their bodies, coiling like snakes ready to strike. The sound of broken bones echoes sharply through the space as Reese is slammed into the back wall next to his fallen comrade, the impact brutal, unforgiving. The sight sends a fresh wave of horror washing over you.

You instinctively shift your gaze toward the carnage, wanting to see what’s happening—but Sylus’s hand shoots up, his fingers gripping your chin firmly. With a gentle yet unyielding force, he turns your face back to him, refusing to let you look anywhere else but into his crimson eyes.

"Look at me," he commands softly, his tone dark but calm, as if the violence behind you was nothing but a trivial distraction. His fingers are warm against your skin, his touch disturbingly tender despite the chaos around you.

His crimson eyes lock onto yours, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a vice. He leans in closer, his bourbon cologne enveloping your senses, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating.

"I’m the only one," he murmurs, his voice a possessive, almost dangerous softness, "who gets to see you cry."

The declaration sends a chill down your spine, and your heart clenches at the weight of it. There's a dark finality in his words—a twisted claim over every ounce of your suffering, every emotion that was once yours, now his to control. The room feels smaller, the air thinner, as if everything in this moment is solely for him, as though the very act of your tears belongs to him and him alone.

You can feel the tears threatening again, but now even that feels like giving in to him—another part of yourself slipping through your fingers, taken by the man who holds you so tightly in his grip, both physically and mentally. And as his thumb lingers on your cheek, his gaze never wavering, you realize just how much he's wrapped himself in every aspect of your life.

The screaming in the room builds to a deafening crescendo, filling every inch of the space with the sounds of agony. Reese’s voice cuts through the chaos, desperate, pleading.

“Please, make him stop! Ask him to stop!” Reese begs, his voice cracking, raw from pain and terror. His broken body trembles against the wall, red mist still coiling around him like a vice, squeezing the life out of him with every passing second. He looks at you, eyes wide, desperate, his fear palpable.

"I-I helped you! R-remember? I'm sorry!"

For a moment, you hesitate, frozen in place, the weight of his suffering tugging at some distant part of your conscience. Should you take pity on him? The thought flickers briefly in your mind. But then you remember. The lies, the manipulation, how he had dragged you into this nightmare without a second thought. Your heart hardens.

You look at him, your voice cold and unwavering.

“Go to hell, Reese.”

The words cut through the air, sharp and final. Reese’s eyes widen in horror, but before he can speak another word, Sylus moves with a calm, terrifying ease. Without a second thought, he reaches into his coat, pulling out a sleek black pistol. The room falls eerily silent for a brief second, the chaos holding its breath.

And then, without a word or hesitation, Sylus points the gun at Reese and pulls the trigger.

The shot rings out, and Reese’s body goes limp, his head lolling to the side as blood pools beneath him. The life drains from his eyes in an instant. The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of what just happened settling heavily in the air.

You stare at the scene in shock, unable to fully process how quickly it had all happened. Your breath catches in your throat, your mind racing as you look to Sylus. But he simply shrugs, completely unfazed, his expression calm and even slightly amused.

“I sent him to hell, just like you said, sweetie,” Sylus says casually, tucking the pistol away as if nothing had happened. His voice is smooth, disturbingly nonchalant, like this was just another task to cross off his list. His eyes, however, flicker with something darker—satisfaction, perhaps, or just a quiet thrill at doing what he believed you wanted.

Your stomach twists, a mixture of shock and disbelief churning inside you. Sylus turns his gaze back to you, his smirk still present, as if waiting for your approval or reaction. You say nothing, just watching as Reese's once lively body slumped to the floor.

Sylus then turns his attention to the last man still clinging to life, his crimson eyes narrowing with cold calculation. Without a word, the red mist surrounding him begins to swirl, thickening and intensifying with an ominous hum. The tendrils of mist snake their way toward the man, wrapping around him like a tightening noose.

The man’s breathing becomes erratic, desperate gasps for air as his body convulses. He tries to scream once more, but no sound escapes his throat as the mist constricts further, crushing the last remnants of life out of him. His limbs jerk, his eyes wide with terror as the pressure grows unbearable.

Sylus watches with a dark, detached satisfaction, his hand slightly raised as if guiding the mist with an almost casual precision. Then, Sylus clenches his fist. And with a final, sickening crack, the man’s body gives way. The force of Sylus’s power snaps through him like a vice tightening too fast. His chest caves in, bones splintering as the red mist crushes him entirely.

A grotesque splatter erupts as his body meets the tiled shower wall behind him, his carnage painting it in violent shades of red. Blood and tissue streak down the wall, dripping in a slow, macabre trail, the remnants of his existence.

You flinch, your breath catching in your throat at the brutality of it all, but Sylus remains calm, lowering his hand as the mist dissipates, his expression indifferent to the destruction he’s caused.

"Sorry," Sylus says smoothly, his tone as casual as if he had just finished a routine task. His gaze slides back to you, eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "I didn't want them breathing the same air as you any longer."

The room is deathly silent now, save for the slow drip of blood from the walls, and the overwhelming finality of it all settles in your chest. You can't tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene, the shock numbing your senses as Sylus steps in front of you, his presence once again wrapping around you like a suffocating mist. His dark eyes bore into yours, a predator sizing up its prey, his calmness only amplifying the terror that gnaws at the edges of your mind.

You flinch as the squelch of his shoes on the blood-soaked floor breaks the silence, your heart pounding in your throat. Every instinct tells you to run, but your legs refuse to obey, frozen in the icy grip of fear. Sylus tilts his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, unreadable smile.

"Woo hoo! Boss is so cool!" Luke chimes in, his bubbly voice shattering the eerie stillness. He gives Kieran a high five before erupting into a fit of laughter. The contrast between his cheerful tone and the grotesque scene feels jarring, almost surreal. You glance at him, baffled by the carefree attitude, as if the carnage before him was nothing more than an impressive show.

He bounces on his feet, voice shrill with admiration as he watches Sylus with the same excitement one might have for a favorite hero. The dissonance is unsettling, pulling you deeper into the spiraling nightmare, where the boundaries between reality and madness blur with each passing second.

Sylus doesn’t react to Luke’s enthusiasm, his focus entirely on you.

Sylus, now visibly more at ease after the extermination of the two men, steps forward with a calm confidence. His eyes never leave yours as he crouches down and effortlessly grabs you from the floor, hoisting you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing. The abruptness of it sends a jolt through your body, and you instinctively try to push away, but his grip only tightens—firm, yet almost playful, like a cat owner gently restraining a stubborn pet.

His chest rumbles with a low chuckle, and when he speaks, his voice is laced with dark amusement. "Ah ah, I won’t let my kitten scatter off a second time."

Your body begins to tremble uncontrollably in his arms, the weight of the situation finally crashing over you like a wave. You had escaped—however briefly—and now you were trapped again. The suffocating inevitability of it wraps itself around you, a crushing reminder that there was bound to be a punishment for trying to flee. Your mind flashes with memories of him slicing open your arm, the cold, detached precision of it, and you wince as the old wound aches in response.

"Please... I'm sorry," you whine, your voice barely above a whisper as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "Don’t hurt me again, don’t punish me."

Sylus tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes watching you with that unsettling mixture of amusement and something that borders on tenderness. "Sweetie, it’s okay," he whispers, his tone disturbingly gentle. He reaches up to brush a bit of dirt from your face, his fingers cold against your skin. "Do you really think I’m going to hurt you? Am I that scary?"

Despite the soft cadence of his voice, the dissonance between his words and the twisted affection in his gaze only amplifies your fear. He holds you securely as he begins to ascend the stairs, leaving the bloodied carnage in the basement to rot, a gruesome memory that would never wash away.

As you both make your way out of the metal hatchet you spot various bags filled with small white powdery substances settled on the couch and tables.

Drugs. Reese had been tricking girls and trading them for drugs.

The air grows cooler as you pass through the broken, dingy living room and out into the crisp, suffocating night of the N109 Zone. With a shrill caw, and a flatter of his wings, Mephisto takes flight and disappears into the night sky.

A dark car with blacked-out windows waits for you at the curb, its ominous presence sending your heart racing again. You think about making a run for it—just for a fleeting second—but that hope vanishes as the twins scatter hurriedly to the front seats, and Sylus pushes you both into the back with an effortless shove.

The car roars to life, and the world outside begins to blur as you realize the inevitable: you were headed back to your cage, the one you had fought so desperately to leave. Sylus keeps you firmly straddled on his lap, his grip unyielding, as if he thought you’d vanish into the night if he let go for even a moment. His eyes, sharp and predatory, stay locked on you, unblinking and watchful.

For a while, the only sound is the hum of the engine as it cuts through the night, the silence between you as suffocating as his hold. Then, suddenly, Sylus lets out a long sigh, breaking the quiet as he leans forward, his face burying into the curve of your neck. The unexpected closeness makes your skin prickle. He nuzzles into your skin like a bird seeking warmth, though you doubted you smelled like anything but blood and grime.

"I missed you," he whispers, his voice soft but strained, as though it carries a deep weight of worry. He shifts, tilting his head up to look at you, his gaze surprisingly gentle, like someone gazing at something precious. His eyes search yours, a strange vulnerability flickering behind the usual cold dominance. "So, so much."

Something tightens in your chest at the sight of him looking at you this way, as though you were his treasure, something he had longed for. The sincerity in his expression shakes you, confusing your thoughts even further. Could he possibly mean it?

"Did you miss me?" he asks, his lips curling into a small, almost playful smile.

You just stare at him, uncertain how to respond. The words lodge in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn your head away, avoiding his eyes. The truth is, you don’t know what to feel. Had you missed him? Or were you just desperate to be saved, no matter who?

He chuckles softly at your reaction, resting his head gently against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. "It’s okay," he murmurs. "You don’t have to answer."

As the car speeds deeper into the dark, your mind begins to spiral, thoughts tangling into knots you can’t unravel. As his arms tighten around you, keeping you pinned in place, you ponder a persistent thought.

Sylus had said he wouldn’t hurt you—but he never said he wouldn’t punish you.

#umi writes ♡︎#love and deepspace #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace smut #sylus #sylus x reader smut #l&ds smut #lads #love and deepspace x reader #love and deep space x reader #loveanddeepspace #lnds #l&ds #love and deep space smut #lads smut #love and deep space sylus #l

755 notes · View notes

stormz369 · 2 months ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 11

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: angst, little to no comfort yet

wc: 2.2k

Chapter Selection

Dick: heeeyyyy Jay?

4:03pm

Dick: … Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay??? Bruce is asking questions about your relationship.

4:45pm

Jason: And I'm ignoring them.

4:56pm

Dick: Well don't! It's important.

4:57pm

Jason: Not possible. It's not his relationship.

5:02pm

Dick: Look, I know you don't like sharing details with us, but Bruce is wondering how serious this is. Like … is she coming to the next Wayne Foundation Gala? Should we expect her at Christmas? Are you gonna tell her about your night job? These are things we kinda need to know

5:10pm

Jason: First of all, I'm not going to the next gala, so why would she? Second, it is way too early in the year to be worrying about Christmas.

5:15pm

Dick: … And the job?

5:25pm

Jason: … When do you tell someone something like that? We've only been together for a few months, but at the same time we've been together for /months/. It simultaneously feels too early and too late…

5:29pm

Dick: Yeah … you're asking the wrong guy, dude. I've only ever dated people “in the business” as it were … Tim might have some insights on that one.

5:31pm

Jason: Yeah, that's not happening.

5:38pm

Dick: Which leads us back to TALK TO BRUCE.

5:40pm

Dick: … DON'T YOU LEAVE ME ON READ YOU LITTLE SHIT!

6:30pm

Bruce: Call me

8:30am

Bruce: Jason, I just have a few questions for you.

9:30am

Bruce: Jason!

10:45am

Jason: Jesus Christ, B! Dick told me about your questions, I don't know what you want me to say! I have no answers for you, ok? This is all new, just let me figure it out!

10:50am

Bruce: As long as you're considering how best to approach the situation. I'm sure you realize you do not want someone else to tell her these things before you have the opportunity to. If you are serious about this relationship, sooner will be better than later.

11:02am

Jason: Believe me, I know. My worst nightmare is her finding out because some asshole tries to kidnap her. I know that us being together puts a target on her back, and if she doesn't know it's there she's at even greater risk. I know all this. It will be handled soon.

11:30am

Bruce: … That sounds pretty final; are you planning on ending things before something goes wrong?

11:41am

Jason: That would be the smart thing. The selfless thing. And I've considered it, I really have. … But I just can't. I don't want to. Can't I have just one good thing? Just this one, and I'll never ask the universe for anything else.

11:50am

Bruce: Jason, of course you can have good things! … But you need to find a way to tell her, before circumstance takes the choice from you.

11:58am

Jason: Working on it

12:04pm

Bruce: Good. We'll see you both at the gala next month then.

12:09pm

Jason: I think the fuck not!

12:10pm

Bruce: It's your turn, you have to come. And if you think that girl doesn't want to be shown off on your arm we'll need to revisit your training, because your observation skills are slipping.

12:15pm

Jason: … This kind of thing is exactly why I didn't want to introduce her to the family.

12:19pm

Bruce: Is it so hard to buy your girl a dress and spin her around the dance floor a few times?

12:30pm

Jason: If any of those socialites flirt with her I won't be held responsible for my actions.

12:33pm

Bruce: You will not threaten, attack, or arrange an attack on anyone at the gala.

12:37pm

Jason: Of course not

12:40pm

Bruce: That includes after they leave, Jason!

12:43pm

Jason: … Damnit.

12:50pm

“Thank god you got the security system in place, huh?” she chuckled a bit mirthlessly as they watched the news. The night before, Jason had installed new security measures around her apartment; better windows with strong locks -and bullet proof glass, but she didn’t know that-, motion detecting cameras on the balcony and front door, and stronger locks on both doors. Perfect timing too, because Bane’s escape from Arkham had just been announced.

Jason pulled her closer, stroking her back, and kissed her forehead. “Not gonna let anything happen to you baby. You just stay inside for a few days, ok?”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders; “can’t. Gotta go to work tomorrow…”

“... Please don’t. … Please, I’ll take care of your rent, just don’t go out there until the bats have him back in Arkham.”

She looked up at his face, frowning a bit. “Jay, we can’t let them hold us hostage in our own homes. He could be out for months, it’s happened before. Hell, if he doesn’t do anything immediately and someone else starts making trouble, he could be loose for years before they get around to him. Besides, it’s not like you’re not going to work while he’s out.”

This was it. This was the moment; he was going to tell her. The only reason he was going to work was because his work was putting Bane back in Arkham. Say it. Say it right now. … She needs to know, just say it. This is the moment… Maybe she’ll stay inside if she knows, then she’ll be safe. Say it. …

“... then … let me take you to work? And pick you up at the end of your shift too.”

“... Just for a few days.” She nodded, kissing his cheek.

He sighed, stroking her shoulder, and held her close. … Coward.

A week later they were sitting on the floor in her apartment, legs crossed, knees touching, both wearing short sleeve shirts. Jason's wrists were resting on his knees, so she could see his arms. He refused to look in her eyes; this was too awkward.

The point was to slowly get him acclimated to the idea that she was a safe person to show his scars to. His forearms had some of his less gruesome scars, mostly cuts and a few old burns, and he was already less uncomfortable with her touching him there, so it seemed like the most reasonable place to start. She gently squeezed his hands, looking down at them. Not touching yet, just sitting with the fact that they were there.

“... Can I ask how you got them?”

This was it. This was the moment; he had to tell her now. Tell her. Tell her where they came from. Tell her what you do. Do it. Right now…

“... Um … well, …”

He was trying to find the right words, how to start this conversation. But all she saw was hesitation. So she squeezed his hands, smiling gently; “it's ok if you're not ready.”

It really wasn't. He knew it wasn't; she deserved the truth, she needed the truth, and she needed it soon. But it felt like too big of a thing to just say all of a sudden, and it was so easy to accept the easy out. He squeezed her hands back, smiling weakly.

“... I love you.” Just give him a little longer, he silently begged the universe; he'd tell her soon, just not today. Give him a little longer.

“I love you too, Jay~” God, how he hoped that would still be true when he finally told her…

“What do you think?” She spun on the pedestal, showing off a green dress. Jason and Steph had taken her to get a gown for the gala; Jason would have been happy for it to be just the two of them, but she insisted she needed a girl's opinion too.

Steph grinned. “I love that silhouette on you. … But the color ….” She waved her hand in a ‘so-so’ motion.

“What's wrong with the color?” She frowned, looking down at herself.

“Nothing, you look beautiful.” Jason smiled softly.

“But it'll look like Christmas!” Steph exclaimed.

She tilted her head, frowning. “Christmas?”

Steph nodded emphatically; “Jason only has one tie for these events, and it's red!”

“Oh! Well then I need a red dress!” She grinned, gathering up the skirt and running for the changing room. “I wish you had the tie with you to compare …”

“I can find a picture!” Steph grinned, going through her Waynebook photos.

Jason blinked a bit, not fully sure what was happening. “... Y- … huh? … you wanna wear red?”

She reemerged, grinning; “Of course; I want everyone in that room to know at a glance that I'm your girl~” He blushed bright red, letting her take his hand and pull him toward a selection of red dresses. Steph smirked a bit, following along to help find a few dresses that would match his tie nicely.

She blushed brightly and giggled at the soft groan that emanated from Jason's throat when she came out in a dress with a high slit and off the shoulder sleeves. Steph smirked; “That sounds like a yes to me.”

“Hmm…” She shifted and squirmed a bit in front of the mirror, frowning at her reflection. “I dunno about this one…”

Jason stood behind her, offering her his hands. “Why not? You look incredible…”

She blushed more, taking them. They stood in the mirror, him behind her and to the side a bit, her hands resting in his like he was leading her onto the dance floor. “I dunno, … the slit is really high, and the off the shoulder sleeves sit in a way that draws attention to my arm fat…”

Jason frowned, gently squeezing her hands. “And?”

She chuckled a bit, looking at his face in the mirror. “What do you mean ‘and’?”

“You're gorgeous. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise it's because they're jealous of how effortlessly beautiful you are. You're going to be the most stunning girl at that entire stupid gala. Really, getting to see you outshine all those hoity-toity-stick-up-their-ass bitches is going to make it worth going.” The sincerity on his face almost made her believe it. She giggled, turning toward him.

“... I haven't danced since P.E. in middle school…”

“We'll practice. Come on, let's practice.” He gently guided her away from the mirror. He guided her hand to his shoulder, then held his hand by her side, hovering a bit. “Can I touch?”

She nodded, grinning, and his hand finally rested against her side, gently guiding her in a simple waltz. Neither of them was particularly graceful, but Jason had the most basic steps memorized from years of being forced to attend Wayne functions. They stared into each other's eyes, mesmerized by the adoration and security they found in each other.

The trance was broken by Stephanie's coos of; “Aww, you two are adorable~”

Jason cleared his throat, smiling softly. “So … this dress?”

She looked in the mirror again, fanning out the skirt a bit. “... You like it that much?” He nodded, unable to tear his eyes off her, and she grinned. “Ok, this one then.”

Steph spent the next hour helping her find shoes that she'd be able to walk and dance in before they were finally able to check out.

That night at her place, Jason offered her a plate and kissed her cheek. She was, inexplicably, excited about the gala, she had fun picking out a dress, and now he was going to butter her up even further with her favorite dinner. She beamed, leaning into the kiss, and blinked in surprise as he sat behind her, gently pulling her to lean against his chest.

“... Babe?”

He hummed softly. “Yeah?”

“... You're … this is good?”

He nodded, arms wrapped around her waist, and kissed her shoulder. “This is good. Eat up~”

She grinned, trying not to vibrate with excitement, and ate happily. “Mh~ it's perfect~ thank you~”

“Of course~” Everything was falling into place. It had been a perfect day. There was no way she could be angry that he'd kept this from her for so long, right? She'd forgive him. She'd understand, and she'd love him anyway. She would… right?

Although, maybe he shouldn't be sitting so close when he told her. If it scared her, she might think him being behind her was a threat. And with him touching her like this, she was trapped against him. He didn't want her to feel trapped. He needed to find a casual way to let go of her, and get to the other side of the room so she would know she was safe when he told her … but he was so comfortable here … maybe just one more minute like this.

… Besides, it was better not to ruin her dinner. … Actually, maybe he shouldn't do it today. He didn't want her to associate the meal with this news, after all. Plus, they had the gala coming up, if she was upset she'd feel beholden to him, to go together even if she was upset. He didn't want that. No, maybe he should do it after the gala.

… Yeah, after the gala…

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #jason todd #dc #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #first person pov #wayne family adventures #no use of y/n #multi chapter fic #Can I Get Your Number?

155 notes · View notes

angelicyoongie · 3 months ago

Text

lovesick • hoseok's pov ch 5

➝ a/n: thank you so much to anon for this commission!! ❤️ this is hoseok's pov from when the mc visits his shop all the way back in chapter five of lovesick. i hope you enjoy! ➝ word count: 2.7k ➝ content warning: yandere behavior, stalker behavior, allusions to kidnapping. ➝ Lovesick Masterlist

Hoseok flips the cloth in his hand, sighing, as he scrubs at a particularly difficult stain. He knew that wooden counters wouldn't necessarily be the easiest thing to keep clean when he picked them out for the shop, but his employees had convinced him that some things just had to be done for the aesthetic. He finds himself deeply regretting being swayed by that now. There's no way he'll be able to clean up the rest of the storre in time for closing and that means he'll have to stay behind, once again missing his window to watch his soulmate cook dinner.

Hoseok's brows furrow as he remembers the steel chain he noticed last time he tried to venture up on the building that's across from yours, the door to the roof suddenly locked.

He will have to pick up some bolt cutters soon to get his vantage point back.

It was just by chance that Hoseok had tried the door leading up to it a few months ago, desperate for even a glimpse of his soulmate. He had no idea if your apartment even faced the street but by a stroke of luck (or perhaps, fate), the roof offered him a direct line of sight into your kitchen – making it the perfect place to watch you as you make dinner. You seemed to mostly be a creature of habit too, which made it easy for Hoseok to time just when he needed to be there.

Hoseok pushes his rolled-up sleeves further above his elbow, putting more force behind his movements as he works on the stubborn spot.

Someone must have seen him up there or heard him walk around if they decided to block it off, and that just won't do. He'll have to figure out a way to keep that door permanently open and accessible. He won't be denied the chance to admire you from afar. It's the thought of seeing you that keeps him going day after day, one tedious shift after another.

Hoseok is mulling every possible option over in his head when he suddenly hears the sound of footsteps moving closer.

Startled, he looks up, expecting to see another middle-aged man rushing in just before closing because he 'forgot' his anniversary and needs a last-minute gift for his wife.

Instead, Hoseok is greeted with the wondrous sight of you walking up to him, a tentative smile on your face. For all the times he has watched you from afar, it's nothing compared to seeing you this close – feeling your presence in the same room.

His heart is pounding as he drinks you in, the subtle scent of your perfume just tickling his nose from where you're standing on the opposite side of the counter.

You're the most beautiful creature Hoseok has ever laid his eyes upon. He truly can't do anything else but grin as he's gifted with your appearance. It seems that fate is smiling upon him today.

Hoseok quickly chucks the cloth under the counter, into the bucket below. He uses his apron to dry off the dampness on his skin, internally cursing that he didn't have time to make himself look more presentable for you.

“Welcome to Hope chocolaterie! How may I help you today?” Hoseok asks. Fondness seeps into his voice as he looks at you, colouring his tone with more warmth than he normally bestows upon anyone.

Hoseok watches as your smile falters, your eyes rapidly scanning over the display between you until something seems to catch your gaze. A sliver of surprise passes over your face so quickly Hoseok would've been sure to miss it if he wasn't looking, but there is nothing that captures his attention more than you.

The elation he felt as you walked into the store quickly flips to concern as you let out a choked cough, your voice strained as you ask about one of the shop's gift boxes.

"We do have quite a few people coming in to buy them every day, but it's not the most popular gift box we have," Hoseok shrugs.

He uses the opportunity to lean against the counter, feigning sheepishness in order to smell more of your gentle, tantalizing scent. “It’s, well, mainly older men who buy them in a poor attempt to win over their wives after they’ve done something stupid.”

For some reason Hoseok can't fathom, the answer seems to make you uncomfortable. A bout of panic washes over him as he realizes you might leave now that you know, that you might walk out of his shop with a strained impression of him just because his self-restraint slipped.

“Would you like to try some?” Hoseok gestures to the display, desperate to salvage the conversation in any way that he can. He won't let those sorry excuses for men taint his first real meeting with his soulmate.

”No, thank you,” You wave him off, your voice cracking, ”You’re closing soon, I don’t want to keep you.”

“You’re not!” Hoseok's mind races as he tries to come up with a plausible excuse to have you stay longer, ”We tend to get a lot of late shoppers so our opening times are never set in stone. And we always offer new customers free samples – it’s part of our policy.”

It's just a quick glance, your gaze barely lingering on the display before moving back to him, but Hoseok knows that is enough if he just pushes a little more. He knows you.

So, he leans one arm on the counter, upping the theatrics a little as he whispers loudly, ”The boss will get upset if you refuse, I could lose my job over this!”

“Aren’t you the boss?”

Hoseok is nothing short of delighted to learn that you actually know who he is; that some part of you still found him interesting enough to remember his face even though you're unaware of the bond.

He rests a hand over his heart, trying to calm the rapid pace of it as he says, “I sure am! And as the owner, I do insist that you try a few bites. It’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t.”

You give in easily, just like Hoseok suspected you would.

He wastes no time in grabbing a plate, picking out a small selection of the chocolates he has a feeling you'll like. He takes extra care as he plates the one shaped like a heart, his most special creation so far. It was created with you in mind, all of his best ingredients and talent going into making it as perfect as possible – as perfect as you.

”Here you go, I picked out a few I think you'll like!”

Your fingers brush against Hoseok's as you take the plate with a soft thank you. The bond makes itself known as you touch, a spark of electricity buzzing up the length of Hoseok's arm, all the way to his heart. The short moment of contact is enough to force all of Hoseok's deepest wants and desires up to the surface, the itch under his skin urging him to take, take, take.

Hoseok grips the counter tightly, making sure the pleasant mask on his face doesn't slip. He shouldn't do anything rash right now, not when the bond made you so surprised. It's not time, not yet.

He watches silently as you shake off the feeling, taking stock of the plate in your hand before you go straight for the one shaped like a heart.

Hoseok holds his breath as you pop it into your mouth, a myriad of emotions flickering across your face as you take in the different flavors and how they pair together. He knows you'll like it, that the bond won't steer him wrong, but he still feels a small surge of relief as he sees your eyes sparkle at the taste.

Hoseok chuckles, proud, as he says, ”It’s good, right? We didn’t win all of those awards for nothing.”

Frankly, Hoseok has never cared much for empty compliments, letting them go in one ear and out the other. But hearing your sweet words of praise as you try out the different pieces is enough to make him feel like he's floating, his body positively thrumming with happiness.

Hoseok's heavy gaze never strays from your mouth as you eat, intent to commit every twitch of your lips to memory. Once you're done, he leans back on his heels, a quiet anticipation buzzing under his skin as he finally asks, ”So, do you have any favourites? Are there any flavours that stood out to you?”

“They were all really good,” You respond, ”Hm, but I think I prefer the first one, the heart, the most.”

Hoseok's own heart picks up speed at that, a smug satisfaction washing over him as he takes in how earnest you are. He knew it. It's only right that you would like that one the most, that your soul would recognize the care and love Hoseok poured into its creation.

“Really?” Hoseok grins, "It’s a recent addition, but I thought you might like that one the best!”

As Hoseok reaches forward to take the plate back, he notices your gaze straying down to his chest, to the golden chain that has slipped out from his shirt. He swiftly tucks it back beneath his shirt, patting down the dark fabric to make sure it doesn’t slip out again as he disposes of your empty plate.

Hoseok had been too blinded by your presence before, too caught up in marveling at your face, to really take stock of what you're wearing. Your coat has been slipped off since you entered, revealing your bare collarbones and wrists.

That can't be right.

“You don’t wear any jewelry?” He asks flatly, eyebrows rising at the sight of your unadorned skin.

The fact that you're not wearing any of his gifts leaves a bitter sting, something displeased and heavy building steadily in the pit of his stomach.

You shake your head, ”Only on special occasions. I’m too clumsy and forgetful to use it on a daily basis, I would just end up either losing or ruining everything I own.”

Oh.

You must adore his gifts so much that you can't bear the thought of losing them.

The anger dissipates just as quickly as it arrives, the hard lines on Hoseok's face softening as he says, ”So you do it to protect your jewelry, then.”

“I-I, well, yeah I guess so."

The small stutter is adorable and the sudden shyness as you advert your eyes, from what Hoseok can only assume is you embarrassed of letting him know that you care, just makes him all the more fond.

”I would really like to buy a box of those heart-shaped chocolates if it’s not too late.”

Hoseok smiles as you try to divert his attention.

"Of course not!" He obliges easily, all too happy to send you home with a box filled with chocolates that he made specifically just for you.

Hoseok pauses his movements as you suddenly clear your throat, his gaze snapping from the display to your face instantly. He watches as you tilt your head toward the box you asked about earlier, ”Do you happen to have any regulars who buy that gift box often?”

It's an odd question and Hoseok finds it even more peculiar that it's still lingering on your mind.

“Why would you like to know?” Hoseok frowns, the silver tongs in his hand snapping closed with a sharp sound as he drops the piece of chocolate he was holding.

Something uneasy passes over your face, a shadow clouding your normally bright eyes as you admit, “The thing is, I’ve been receiving that particular gift box for months, but I have no idea who’s been giving them to me."

Hoseok feels his stomach flip, an ugly feeling taking over as you continue, “I really want to thank them but that’s impossible when I don’t know who’s behind them. They take the secret in secret admirer a little too seriously."

The airy giggle you let out sounds forced. Fake. Hoseok knows you're lying to him, that you're not enjoying the attention this 'secret admirer' is giving you. This person must be out of their mind trying to court his soulmate. Hoseok has never noticed anyone suspicious entering your building whenever he's been watching you, but the window is too small. There's too much time in the day where he isn't there, where he has no clue who's entering or exiting.

Hoseok is nothing short of livid that this has been happening right under his nose for months and he had no idea until just now.

“A secret admirer, huh?”

A humourless smirk tugs at Hoseok's lips as he turns back to the container in his hand, resuming his work of finishing up the box you ordered. He’s clutching the silver tongs so hard that they groan under his grip as he picks up the last piece, the edges of the chocolate beginning to crack before he shoves it into place with the rest.

He slides the box across the counter, letting out a controlled, slow breath through his nose as he turns to the cash register. He can't let you know just how much this upsets him, not when you're supposed to be strangers. He'll just have to figure out a way to deal with this quietly and quickly.

Hoseok uses a little more force than intended as he rings you up, his brewing anger making his fingers hammer against the touch screen. He makes sure to give you a hefty discount, knowing that there's no way you would ever accept it for free. You're just too kind to do something like that.

Hoseok already knows that you would be worried about something silly like him not being able to pay himself or his employees if he gives it to you for free. While he does admire your selflessness, Hoseok is determined to make you see that being a little selfish is fine. You deserve to take and not just give.

You swipe your card, keeping your eyes on the machine until it confirms your payment.

Hoseok doesn't want your interaction to end just yet but he's out of excuses to keep you in the shop longer. If he drags it out too much, you'll start getting suspicious. You are a very clever woman, after all.

Still, Hoseok can't help himself, desperate for another minute of breathing the same air as you as he says, “I can’t help you with that I’m afraid, I don’t keep track of what my customers buy."

He shakes his head, dispelling the thoughts that are shouting at him to not let you walk out that door, to keep you with him where it's safe.

“But–” Hoseok adds, crossing his arms over his chest to restrain himself, "If it’s that important to you to figure out who it is then I guess I can keep an eye out and note down the customers who buy them frequently.”

"Really?! Thank you so much!" Your relief is palpable, the twinkle in your gaze once again returning.

All because of him.

"Just note down your information here and I'll contact you if anything comes up."

"I really appreciate that, thank you," You say, flashing him a sweet smile as you write down your name and number.

It pains Hoseok to stick to his resolve as you bid him goodbye, his body and soul itching to not let you go. He returns your smile despite his urge to grimace, wishing you well even though he'd rather stick to your side to ensure that it does.

The moment you're out of sight, Hoseok's kind smile drops.

He's furious that your first meeting was marred by some secret admirer who doesn't know their place; that you're so disturbed by it that you even went to his shop in hopes that you might figure out who it is. Hoseok doesn't believe for a second that you want to thank them, it's clear that you just want them gone.

He won't let anyone come between your bond – he won't let anyone mess with his soulmate.

Maybe it is time for Hoseok to step up his game. And if he can't figure out who it is then, well, he can always remove you from the situation and bring you somewhere safe.

Somewhere it'll only be you and him.

Yes, Hoseok thinks, picking up the discarded cloth to once again scrub at the difficult spot on the counter, That's his best plan yet.

#yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere hoseok #yandere x you #bts au #yandere au

174 notes · View notes

peachsukii · 10 months ago

Text

Hollow Heart { chapter 1 - hurricane }

『♡』 pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | friends to lovers ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡

summary: The dynamic duo of Dynamight and Deku are unstoppable, climbing the hero charts like they always dreamed of as kids. Their journeys were tough, but offered them the world - fame, fortune, protection of their family and friends, a comfortable hero life. The recent increase in crime around Tokyo kept their entire sector busy, sending heroes out non-stop, desperate to keep the statistics as low as possible to maintain a clean reputation. When a nearby sector is requesting assistance, the boys are tasked with a mission to inspect a villain’s lair in a deserted area outside of the city. Reports have noted people going missing, specifically with rare quirks. With plenty of other heroes being unavailable, you’re chosen to tag along with the duo for the night operation. Everything is going according to plan until the villain lands a surprise attack, resulting in the your kidnapping and whisking you away through a mysterious portal. It’s been a month since your disappearance with no help of the hero agency. Bakugo and Midoriya take it into their own hands and are determined to get you back - no matter how long or what it takes. tags & warnings: mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance a/n: Prepare for the heartbreaking journey of Bakugo battling with his feelings when it’s too late…or is it? :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; ~20.6k as of ch.4 ꒱ Chapter 1 | Hurricane [5k] Chapter 2 | The Ghost of You [4.7k] Chapter 3 | Choke [3.9k] Chapter 4 | The Grey [6.7k] Chapter 5 | The Good Left Undone [4.7k] Chapter 6 | Tourniquet Chapter 7 | There is Fear in Letting Go 『♡』 this fic has a playlist! ✩

CHAPTER ONE: HURRICANE

A beautiful summer morning, rays of tangerine light poured into the living room of your apartment as you sleepily make your way to the kitchen, desperate for that first cup of coffee. The clock on the stove read 8:35AM - the latest you’ve overslept in the last month. It was another long night in the office, writing reports for your previous week’s hero patrols that you’d put off for far too long. You'd think someone else would be responsible for inputting notes into the agency's system, but no - anyone below rank 10 was tasked with entering in their own data.

Criminal activity in the area had increased significantly within the last 3 months, calling heroes of all ranks out nonstop, especially lower ranked heroes. Was it annoying? Sure, being awoken in the middle of the night out of a dead sleep to go stop a small robbery at the local late-night supermarket wasn't ideal. Especially when you dreamed of dealing with bigger threats, akin to crime syndicates and large scale villain organizations. As a hero, you’re taught to tune out the small details and focus on what’s in front of you - keeping the citizens of your ward safe and sound, even if it's helping a granny cross the street in the middle of the afternoon.

The agency accepted you with open arms right out of UA High, over the moon to have a hero with a quirk like yours in their roster. Psionic energy manipulation was shockingly uncommon amongst the 80% of the population of quirk users. The kinetic hero, Y/H/N, ranked number 37 - high enough to earn respect from your peers and low enough to not have to worry about being followed by paparazzi and negotiating brand deals. Cities were full of billboards with ads sponsored by heroes, heavily focused on those in the top 10 for allure to their product. Deku and Dynamight’s athletic wear collaboration, Uravity’s mochi bites, Shouto’s fire and ice energy drinks - it was impossible to avoid. Did you wish you had the smallest bit of spotlight? Sometimes, but being able to walk the streets off-duty and not be bothered was a luxury you'd like to keep. On the counter, your phone buzzed and flashed awake, shaking you out of the sleepy stupor.

Incoming Call: Katsuki Bakugo

A picture of you and Bakugo appeared on to the caller ID screen - one of your favorite pictures with him. It was from a concert in Shibuya you'd attended a few months back. His arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he flipped off the camera, wearing his infamous toothy smirk as you leaned against him with a small peace sign and a warm smile.

It's unfair how effortlessly attractive he was. Admittedly, you'd had a crush on him since high school and drank up every ounce of affection he threw your way over the years. Even though you've known him and Midoriya since childhood, your friendship didn't truly blossom until your first year in UA. Thanks to your tenacity and fighting spirit, he respected you after a long six months. That broke down his walls just enough to tolerate you and continue to be friends ever since.

You, Midoriya, and Bakugo became three peas in pod, a strong bond established to last a lifetime. Post-UA life wasn’t as easy to see each other, but you made it work - trainings, missions, conflicting work schedules, and general life couldn’t get in between the three of you, even if it was just over texts, phone calls and late-night movie marathons. It helped that you all lived in Tokyo, at least. Midoriya, of course, was extremely special and essential to your life. He’s like the little brother you always wanted and a constant ray of sunshine, always there for whatever you need. There was just something different and special about your bond with Bakugo - a spark, without sounding cliche. And after all these years later, he's still your favorite person and one of your best friends.

You wouldn't trade it for the world. Oh shit, I forgot we planned to go for a run this morning. You answer hesitantly, knowing full well you’re about to get an earful about being late.

“Yo, Y/N, you plan on showin' up anytime soon?” There was shockingly no annoyance in his tone. “It’s almost 9.”

“Sorry Kat! I overslept. Had a long night writing reports in the office. I’ll be there in 10,” you say, not making any excuses. You hear a loud tch in response - ah, there’s the annoyance.

“I was about to bust down your door and give you a personal wake up call,” he teases, laughing to himself. “Get your ass to the park. See ya, lite-brite.” The line ended with a click.

He'd never let that nickname go, one that followed you all the way back from high school. You'd grown used to it as he typically reserved it to get under your skin or light a fire under your ass. Most of the time? It worked - and you liked it.

Setting the coffee cup in the sink, you jog back into your room down the hallway and change into a clean set of workout clothes. You'd just gotten the PR package from Midoriya last week with his new sports wear collaboration with Bakugo, saving you time by not having to dig through your laundry pile. He would have scolded you for slacking on chores if he were to have woken you up in person, and then folded it himself to prove a point. He’d often harp on you for not keeping up with basic shit around your place, but in the same breath, start cleaning up for you - it was one of his love languages.

The company they collaborated with nailed the designs perfectly. It was minimalistic, but still paid homage to their hero costumes. You grab Bakugo's set - a cropped black sleeveless hoodie with an orange 'X' across the front, a forest green band with a drawstring around the midsection, and an orange hood. The matching shorts were all black with a simple orange stripe down the sides. The neoprene material allowed for the set to breathe in any weather condition.

Thankfully, the park you were meeting him at was only a couple minute walk from your apartment building. Not long after pulling your hair into a ponytail, splashing your face with water and brushing your teeth, you're kicking on your sneakers by the door and shuffling out of the apartment. A few minutes to spare, you duck into the convenience store along the way, grabbing two sports drinks and a bag of his favorite spicy-flavored chips. God, you hated the taste of them and never understood why he liked them so much. Some part of you jokingly thought it fueled his already explosive personality, literally heating him up from the inside.

───

"You wear that on purpose?" Bakugo snickers over his phone as you skip toward him, pointing to your workout gear.

"What can I say? It's comfortable. Happy to be a walking ad for the number four hero," you say, elbowing him in the arm. He rolls his eyes, snatching the sports drink you've outstretched to him and mutters a thanks.

"You should model our next set," he pats you on the back. "You're the perfect fit."

You scoff, waving a hand at him. "Yeah, like I'm model material."

"I literally just said you were, dumbass. Take a damn compliment!"

He peers over your shoulder to see the chips in your bag. "Damn, you're really kissing up to me today. What's the occasion?" He's beaming over the attention you're showering him with - he'd never admit how much he loved it.

You shake your head playfully. "What, I can't spoil my favorite person?"

Bakugo barks out a laugh while opening the sports drink and chugging half of it in one go. Again, it was stupid how attractive he was, no matter what he did. The summer breeze made his blonde locks dance lazily in the morning sun, a sheen on his flawless skin as some of the liquid spilled out of the corner of his mouth, trickling down his jawline. A sadistic part of you thought he did this shit on purpose to rile you up, testing the boundaries of your friendship.

If only you had the nerve to just scream from the rooftops - Katsuki, I fucking love you.

“You good, Y/N?” He's waving a hand in front of your face. “Space case much?”

“Yeah! Sorry, apparently still waking up,” you apologize while stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s go!”

───

An hour later, you and Bakugo finish your run in the park, completely drenched in sweat. The two of you plop under a nearby tree in the shade, the humidity adding a layer of exhaustion to your depleted stamina. Lazily slouching over onto your shoulder, he steals the sports drink out of your hand and downs the rest of it himself with a satisfied hah. Somehow, you always forget that he smells like caramel and burnt sugar after a run, invading your senses with that sweet essence that you loved. His bangs stuck to the sweat on his forehead as he dropped his head back against the tree, eyes closed as he caught his breath.

God, he’s so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, almost afraid he'd somehow hear you.

"I'm free the rest of the day," he comments between shallow breaths, lazily opening one eye and elbowing your side. "Down for a movie day? Been awhile."

"Hell yeah. Junk food, too?" Your eyes light up with excitement.

"Like you gotta ask. I didn't run three fuckin' miles just to look good," he quips. "Cool if I shower at your place?"

That catches you off guard, sending a flutter of butterflies off in your stomach. Why the hell are you so riled up today? Sure, you've had a massive crush on your best friend for ages, but its usually not this intense. Must be the scent of his sweat deluding your thoughts...or maybe it’s the potential scene of watching him walk out into your living room, shirtless - excess water cascading down his hourglass figure, tracing his abs and settling into the hem of his sweatpants.

Stop it! Calm the fuck down.

"S-sure. I have a pair of your sweats, I think…maybe Izuku’s? It’s like you guys leave your shit at my place so I do your laundry for free."

He shoves you jokingly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Hah! Knew it was you who stole my favorite pair. I’ve got shit with me, no worries.”

Bakugo climbs to his feet, extending a hand back to you. “C’mon, I’m fucking starving and dying to do nothing the rest of the day.”

───

The sunset’s sorbet-colored afterglow flooded the living room as the fourth movie’s credits rolled on the TV screen, a faint warm breeze coming through the open balcony door. The two of you had settled in after your run, marathoning through a collection of films you'd be wanting to watch, surrounded by a buffet of comfort food - taiyaki, meat buns, spicy fried chicken bites, mabo tofu, yakitori, and a box full of various flavors of dango. The cashier at the convenience store must have thought you two were hosting an insane party with how much food you bought, cleaning out their entire hot foods section in minutes.

Bakugo stretched out like a cat, his abs flexing as his black tank top moved up his midsection. It was impossible not to stare, especially when he wore cropped shirts, showing off his hard earned muscles. You found it ironic how you mentioned once - and only once - how crop tops on guys are attractive as hell, and a few weeks later? He had a handful of them that he’d rotate wearing during the summer, claiming he only wears them for “regulating his temperature for his quirk.” You knew that was a bold-faced lie, but never called him on it. Why would you risk making him change his mind when they looked so good on him?

He let out a satisfactory groan, putting his feet up on the coffee table and hands behind his head. You stretch as well, throwing your feet in his lap like always. Bakugo looked comfortable, like he was at home. You were home to him.

“I got somethin’ on my face?” He jokes, lolling his head to face you.

Lost in thought, you have no time to stop the words falling from your mouth.

“No, just admiring you.”

Bakugo quirks an eyebrow, surprised by your flattery. You see a faint pink blush begin to make it’s way across his cheeks, an extremely rare sight.

“Th-thanks,” is all he can muster to say in a low voice.

“Is that so weird to say? You’re gorgeous, Katsuki,” you blurt out, shocked by your own words. Where the hell is this coming from? You normally weren't so...forward. Not that you were lying in any capacity. You've complimented him plenty times before, why is now different?

Right?

You pause, realizing you could be overwhelming him. He'd always been adamant on how much he hates when "fans" view him as just a sex object rather than respect him as a heroic figure.

“I know you hate being objectified. I’m sorry -,”

“Don’t be, y’didn't.”

The static of the TV hummed through the lull in your conversation, the credits of the last movie approaching the end of its sequence. You nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Thank fuck he can't hear your thoughts.

Bakugo notices your nervous tick and grins. That damn shit-eating grin.

"Relax, Y/N. I didn't say I didn't like it. Big difference between you and a fan girl sayin' shit like that."

As he’s about to continue the conversation, both of your phones ring simultaneously. That’s weird…it’s 8:30PM on a Tuesday night. Neither of you were scheduled for patrol and all sectors had coverage from the last e-mail update. You pull your phone out to check the caller ID and sigh in annoyance.

Incoming Call: AGENCY - EMERGENCY LINE

“The fuck?” Bakugo huffs, his brow furrowed in confusion.

───

After 15 minutes, you're debriefed with a new mission, and strangely, you’re assigned with none other than Bakugo and Midoriya. This was extremely uncommon for heroes of top 10 rank to work with those below rank 25 and only happened when other top 10 heroes are too busy. Emergency calls were normally automated messages, but this was a personal conference call from the board of directors.

We are in need of Y/H/N to assist Dynamight and Deku’s mission to stake out a villain’s laboratory tonight in Sector 42. We’ve received reports of civilians going missing near the area over the last few weeks, specifically those with uncommon and rare quirks. There is a probability that hostages are being using for the development of a secret serum, to which is unknown at this time. Report to the agency by 11:30PM for further instruction.

Man, you were really looking forward to more time with Bakugo. Granted, you’ll still be with him, but now you’ll be stalking around for work, not stuffing your face on the couch together.

“Kat, I don’t know what it is, but I…I have a really weird feeling about this stake out,” you admit, unsure of where this anxiety is coming from. This isn’t the first time you’ve been assigned to a mission like this, and certainly won’t be the last, there was just something odd in the air surrounding this one.

“Yeah. Go grab your suit, I’ll call Izuku to meet us here and we'll go over together,” Bakugo says hesitantly, already dialing Midoriya and bringing his phone to his ear.

“Hey, yeah just got the call. Y/N and I are at her apartment, swing by and we'll go to the agency together.”

───

By 11:45PM, the three of you are suited up and stationed in Sector 42. The area was very…barren? It was confusing to you how people would wander out here and disappear. It was in the middle of nowhere, miles from the city limits, an open field surrounded by a spotty tree line. Something still felt off about this entire set up - a gut feeling, but it was enough to keep you on edge.

“Y/N?” Midoriya called to you, blinking with concern. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

You rub your temple, desperately trying to push the feeling down.

“Sorry, Izu. I’ve had a gut feeling something was wrong since the phone call.”

“What do you mean?” His interest is peaked, both out of curiosity and concern.

“Can’t place it, but I feel it, too. Something’s not right,” Bakugo chimed in, surveying the field for any signs of…whatever the hell it was they’re looking for. An entrance to a lab? Masked minions abducting people? The agency was extremely vague in their details. That didn’t sit well with you, and Bakugo now, too.

“You’re not wrong. This is an open area in the middle of nowhere. Why would anyone wander out here alone?” Midoriya muttered, continuing a conversation with his own thoughts aloud. “It's not a common road for travel, by foot or by vehicle. And how would the agency know what this villain is making without having the location of the lab in question?”

The abrupt sound of creaking metal echoed around you, a sense of danger spiking in your nerves. You place a hand on the shoulder of both Midoriya and Bakugo to halt them in their tracks.

“Did you hear that? It sounded like a door was opening…close by,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Whoosh!

You didn’t register there was another presence amongst you until the dart made contact with your skin. A warming sensation flowed through your right shoulder as you let out a cry, stumbling to your knee. What the fuck? Your hero suit was designed to prevent piercing damage to a degree, but this dart cut right through it. The dart resembled a syringe, automatically activating the injection mechanism as it pierced your skin.

“Y/N!” Midoriya shouted, immediately wrapping an arm around your waist to whisk you away from another potential attack. Bakugo whipped his head around, looking for any sign of where the dart came from. Was someone hiding, or was it a device hidden out of sight? Maybe in a nearby tree? That's not possible, these trees don't have enough leaves for coverage like that.

“Hold still, I’m going to pull it out,” Midoriya warned. You braced for the pain as he yanked the dart from your shoulder, tossing it out of reach. You wince, the sting slowly fading a few seconds later. “Are you feeling okay?”

Things were starting to feel fuzzy, the ache spreading rapidly through the rest of your body. Everything felt warm and cold simultaneously, as if your body was at war over what temperature to settle on.

“I’m alright, just…dizzy,” you mumble, slurring as you attempt to reassure him.

Midoriya helps you to your feet, offering to let you use him as support. You wave a hand, muttering over and over again I’m fine, I’m fine. There’s a pulsing sensation starting to build in your shoulder, creeping its way through your right arm. It’s tingling, crawling - uncomfortable, but not painful. What the hell was in that dart?

A flash of black invades your vision, throwing you off balance as things pixelate and sharpen repeatedly before completely disappearing. Things are spinning and your senses are dulling. You notice that you don’t hear Bakugo or Midoriya anymore…did they wander off? You should be able to hear explosions, gusts of wind, crackling energy - something.

A force knocks you on your back, slamming you to the ground. You don’t feel a damn thing, just a vague numbness as your body, what you presume, hits the ground. You can’t make out whatever, or whoever, it is that is attacking you. I still can’t hear anything! Can you speak? Can anyone hear you even if you could?

…Y…N! …Y/N!

A voice? It’s muffled, but you hear someone calling for you. Was that Midoriya?

“Let her go, jackass!”

Oh no, that’s Bakugo.

His booming voice reverberates through your head, sending your thoughts whirling in a vortex more than they already were. A vision of the battlefield was starting coming into focus, hazy, but a semblance of scenery was making its way back to you. When did I get up from the ground? Didn't I get knocked down?

The field before you was littered with debris.

…Branches and broken stumps of dead trees.

…Craters in the ground.

…are those broken pieces of Bakugo’s gauntlets?

…patchy trails and puddles of blood soaking into the dirt.

The sights sent a chill up your spine - your gut instinct was right.

To your right, Midoriya panted with force as he held onto his thigh, blood seeping through his suit and staining around the wound. He was close enough that you could see the detailing of his tendons exposed from the impact, frayed pieces of skin hanging from the damage. His hair was slicked back, matted with a mix of, what you think, is dirt and blood. The rest of his suit had a variety of slashes and cuts, the material tattered and torn all over his body.

To your left, Bakugo’s on the ground, battered and bruised as he’s struggling to get to his feet. His gauntlets were missing, along with the glove underneath on his right hand. His exposed forearm was beat red, what looked like hand prints blistering the area. Blood trickled from his forehead and pooled under his mask. He’s shouting again…you can’t quite make out what he’s saying as he’s extending his bare arm in your direction.

What the fuck happened?!

Something inside you clicks abruptly, adrenaline surging, urging you to fight. It’s competing with the numbness in your muscles. How much damage have you taken if you can’t feel a damn thing?

Fuck. Come on, dammit. Move, fight - do something! Help them!

In your peripheral vision, a man appears beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turn on your heel, ready to activate your quirk and blast this guy into oblivion. Your hand meets his clothed chest with a thump.

Nothing happens.

Your quirk doesn’t activate.

Another swing, focusing all the energy you have into a concentrated blast.

Nothing.

Panic sets in as you study your hand, mortified that you’ve been rendered useless. Your mind is racing faster than you can keep up with. Is this the serum they talked about earlier? How long was I unconscious...was I even unconscious?

And then it dawns on you - it’s a quirk suppressant.

The serum they’re using to abduct people nullifies their quirks to make them a willing target.

The mystery man cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your vision tunnels on his face, the rest of your body shutting back down. You feel your arms flop to their sides as your knees begin to buckle - the adrenaline being zapped from your muscles at his touch.

“Good, it’s setting in. You’ll be a decent specimen. We’ve been waiting for a psionics user like you to add to our roster.”

A giant swirl of matter begins to manifest in front of you, a gentle force sucking you closer to it’s entry point. You can't help but think about how helpless you look in this moment, confused as hell that this scrawny man could take down three heroes with ease. You fucking hated the feeling, never wanting to be the damsel in distress. It pissed you off beyond belief.

“It’s time.” The man, in what you can now see is a white lab coat, turns you around to face the boys sprawled on the battlefield. “We’ll be going now.”

Every inch of your body is screaming run. But you can’t. You can’t move, paralyzed by all the conflicting effects of the serum running rampant through your veins. Your vision is dimming once more, your eyes threaten to close as Bakugo’s voice drags you back to reality. Your eyes snap open as he appears in front of you, digging his heels into the dirt.

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!”

He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, pleading for you to hear him as he clutches your forearm, attempting to pull you to him. You can’t feel it, but by the strain shown in his bicep, he’s using all of his strength to hold onto you. His eyes are full of panic, wide and bloodshot, crimson irises aflame.

"Let her fucking go!" he roars a second time. His hand is slipping down your forearm, now desperately gripping onto your hand. You attempt to grasp it to no avail, your strength failing you. You hear him let out an anxious grunt, struggling against the force of whatever is pulling you away behind you.

Time seems to slow as you lock eyes, an exchange of unspoken words between you two. A sense of dread begins to flood through your body as you see tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

He's terrified.

You remember a thought from earlier in the day, if only I could scream "I love you."

There will never be a perfect moment, never a time and place for you to say it. You have to create the moment yourself.

A steady breath escapes you, softly gazing at Bakugo as you see his fingers slipping through your own.

"Katsuki," you mouth, barely able to hear the sound of your own voice.

"I love you."

The last thing you see is Bakugo frantically scrambling toward you before darkness envelops your sight.

- - - BAKUGO POV - - -

Everything happened in the blink of a fucking eye.

Ambushed, both him and Midoriya were hazed with a mysterious smoke, rendering their quirks useless. His explosions fizzled out as he fought the onslaught of henchmen surrounding them, armed with various weapons. The two of them blitzed through a good number of them before quickly becoming overwhelmed - 25 on 2 wasn't ideal odds.

Their hero suits were ripped, equipment shattered as they were punched, kicked, stabbed at, battered, and thrown around.

"I don't need my fuckin' quirk to kick your asses!" Bakugo threatened as he swiped at a nameless henchmen, nailing a right hook to his jaw. Midoriya was holding his own behind him until he let out an agonizing yelp, falling to the ground audibly.

"Deku!" Bakugo called out, spinning in the direction of his cry as someone socked him from the left side. He skid onto the ground, particles of dirt trailing behind him.

Regaining his composure, he looked around to see that all of the henchmen had swiftly disappeared without a trace, as if they were never there in the first place. What the fuck?

He saw her body standing still, some man in a lab coat behind her. She resembled a lifeless puppet, the light from her eyes dim and limbs loosely at her sides. It looked as though she could collapse at any moment.

"Let her go, jackass!" Bakugo shouted, unable to get to his feet.

The unknown man gripped her shoulder as a large black mass appeared behind them.

Is that a portal? That looks like Kurogiri's quirk from years ago, he thought to himself, willing every fiber of his being to get to his fucking feet.

He's able to muster enough strength get one knee off the ground, enough to launch in range of her and wildly grasp for her hand.

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!”

Bakugo doesn't realize he's screaming, he's acting on impulse and adrenaline - desperation to save her. His hand is slipping at an agonizingly slow pace, moving from forearm to her hand, hardly able to keep his hand clasped with hers. He's cursing internally, hoping that she can't see the terror in his eyes, the anxiety filling him to the brim. That's when he hears her speak, her voice hauntingly quiet.

"Katsuki, I love you."

His hand slips away, watching her disappear into the portal. It closes in an instant as he's hopelessly dashing to it, not noticing that Midoriya is charging from behind him. They briefly collide, stumbling from the impact before they both steady themselves.

The silence surrounding them is deafening.

"Kacchan," Midoriya snivels, head hung low. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough to help." His voice was breaking, clenching his fists at his side.

Bakugo stares at his hand, collapsing to his knees. He felt nauseous, the crippling realization churning in his stomach.

I love you.

Her voice ricocheted through his head, bouncing around as it tugged hard at his heartstrings. An overwhelming sensation of loss fills his heart, refusing to come to terms with the current reality.

A brief memory flooded into Bakugo's mind, reminding him of a feeling he'd long shoved away. One night - years ago - at his brand new apartment in Tokyo, they'd been up all night talking after the long day of moving his shit into the place. It was 3AM, boxes piled everywhere as they laid in his bed, bullshitting the night away with random talks of life. She started a vulnerable conversation of mental health amongst heroes, ranging from her own family issues and medicated struggles as examples of not knowing what people deal with beneath the surface. He'd been listening, watching as she poured her heart out next to him, able to smile through it all. It was in that moment that struck him like lightning - he'd fallen madly and irrevocably in love with her. He had convinced himself there was no way she would have felt the same, forcing himself to suffocate that feeling for years.

And he was wrong.

Midoriya crouched down beside him as he's lost in the memory, a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find her, Kacchan, don't worry," he attempts to declare confidently as his own tears are staining his cheeks. "She's strong, she'll be -,"

"She said she loved me." Bakugo's facade was shattering before his eyes as he watched his best friend crumble onto the ground, clutching his chest. He couldn't control the wail that escaped him, tears pouring from his eyes like the downpour of a rainstorm.

Midoriya pulled him close, Bakugo falling limply into him, curling into a ball as they sobbed together.

and thus begins the traumatic story of bakugo and midoriya losing their best friend to a mystery portal to nowhere!

Divider by : @/saradika

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo angst #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #dynamight #☆.rei writes #✩.hollowheart

428 notes · View notes

sweetbunpura · 18 days ago

Note

As they step out of Aqualette.

Jade: Azul are you alright

Floyd: Yeah Azul

Azul: I’m alright. Rielle just wanted to give his apologies from when we were younger.

Jade and Floyd: Really

Round 5!

Start - Daydreamers (pt.2) - Jungleheart (Ch.3) - Aqualetta (Ch.4)

Potential

Rollo paused and turned to look at the trio of fishmen. "Who's Rielle?"

"The prince of Coral Sea." Jade responded. "And one of Azul's childhood bullies."

He blinks and looks at Azul as he adjusts his glasses. "Bullies? You were bullied?"

"Yeah~" Floyd chirped. "Back when Azul was a little Octo-mmph!"

Azul had shoved his hand over his mouth. "Enough."

"If you are done with your conversation." They turned to see Jamil with his arms crossed. "I'm going to assume she wasn't there by the fact that she isn't with you."

"Ah, Jamil-san... you're right." Azul sighed. "Rielle said she might be in Potential."

Jamil's frown deepen as Kalim perked up next to him.

"Oh! We get to Jahzi!" Kalim pulled Jamil's arm in direction of an archway with an emblem of a genie's lamp on it. "Rollo, you too!"

"Kalim-" Jamil tried to say as he and Rollo were forced through the portal.

The heat blasted Rollo in the face as they emerged on the other side. Before them stood a massive marketplace with what looked like a palace in the background. Potential dorm members were walking around the makeshift city and conversing with one another as they seemed to be buying the crafts created by the other dorm members. Jamil was quick to pull up his hood and hide his face as Kalim looks around with glee.

"Let's see." He opened his mouth to yell. "Jah-Mmph!"

Jamil covered his ward's mouth and hissed out. "Kalim, we're not supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves."

"Oh, right. My bad!" He smiled and took off further into the dorm. "Let's look around!"

"Kalim!" Jamil followed after him, leaving Rollo sighing and running a hand down his face.

"I'm going to confide myself to Ramshackle after this little adventure." He grumbled to himself and, regrettable, followed the pair.

They got to the walkway above the market before someone greeted them.

"Kalim."

The trio were faced with a teenager with long brown hair and red eyes staring at them. Beside him was a taller and stockier tiger beastman, his ears twitched on top of his orange and black hair.

"Jahzi!" Kalim rushed to hug his cousin. "Hi, Amur!"

Jahzi staggered back as he took the full force of his cousin's hug as Amur steadied him.

"Hello, Al-Asim."

"Sevens, Kalim, as happy as I am to see you, why are you in RSA?" Jahzi's eyes moved up as he glared at Jamil. "With Viper of all people."

"Jahzi." Jamil crossed his arms and glared back. "We're here because your classmate kidnapped an NRC student."

"Was it the girl who was here earlier?" Amur asked with a flick of his tail.

"So she was here....at a point?" Rollo sighed. "This is a cat and mouse chase..."

"Am I right in assuming she's your betrothed?" Amur tilts his head. "Although, how a woman of her skill wound up in NRC is a mystery."

"Indeed..." He tried ignoring that tiger basically said they were engaged.

"So we know she's not here." Jamil pulled Kalim back by his cardigan. "We should be going."

Jahzi tighten his grip on Kalim. "Why not have him stay here? You can pick him up later, Viper."

"We're leaving now."

"What's the rush?"

"Jahzi-"

"Now, now, no fighting in the dorm." They paused to see a short brown haired and tan skinned student walking towards them. "Jahzi, c'mon."

Jahzi sighed and let Kalim go as the white haired Al-Asim laughed. "Riley, you're back."

"Yeah." He gave Jahzi a kiss on the cheek. "Saw a bunch of people in the lobby and got curious as to what was going on. Manged to piece together that they're here for Yuu, no doubt." He moved away from the teen and stuck his hand out to Rollo. "You're Rollo, right? I'm Riley Nights, Dorm leader of Potential. Jahzi is my vice and Amur is his retainer."

Rollo blinked and shook his hand. "Yes, how did you know?"

"Yuu informed me that her boyfriend and the other NRC students were on their way over. I'm sorry for what Neige and Chen'ya did." Riley sighed. "And now Phara's been thrown into the mix...."

Rollo looked at Riley and paused as he felt not a drop of magic coming from him. "I see..."

"She's over in Nevemela, sorry again for all the trouble."

"Thank you, Riley." Jamil pulled Kalim towards the entrance.

"You're welcome, Viper." Riley pulled his own Al-Asim away. "May we meet again on better terms."

#Hey I love Riley #twisted wonderland #rescue from RSA #twst oc #twst RSA #RSA oc #jamil viper #kalim al asim #rollo flamme #thorn answers #twst fic

105 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 1 month ago

Text

Bones Full of Words, ch 12

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues, canon typical violence* Fluff, sass, flirting, it's a whole chapter of domestic fucking bliss as displayed by two people very horny for each other. Summary: Booted back to the States after the DEA puts him on notice, Javi runs into an unexpected and familiar face at his cousin's wedding. Notes: Next week will be the epilogue for Javi and his writer, and then we will be on to the next soulmate story! Thank you so much to everyone who came along on this journey with us. It really has been so fantastic. 🧡 As always, I apologize for any errors I might have missed in proofreading.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11

There is no sinking, sick feeling like you expected. Only the knowledge that rolling over to dig out and light up a cigarette before talking will be something you share, skin to skin and heart to heart, with your soulmate.

"Alright." When you turn back into his side again you take a drag of the cigarette before handing it over to him. "Where do you want to start?"

Javi takes the cigarette and inhales slowly, eyes slipping closed as the nicotine rush hits him on the first puff. They can claim all they want to about cocaine, it’s not got shit on a cigarette. He holds it for a second before blowing it out. “I meant what I said.” He wants that written in stone, right now. “It’s not a heat of the moment thing, I love you.” He repeats softly, eyes opening and focusing on you.

"I've been in love with you since before I left to come home." You tell him softly, accepting the cigarette when he passes it back and embracing the intimacy of sharing it. "It hit me when I was living with you, actually..."

“When you were kidnapped.” Javi admits, watching as you take a slow drag off the cigarette and savor it just like he did. “I fucking nearly rubbed my - your tattoo raw, checking to make sure it was there.” His hand reaches for your thigh since you are still propped up and he squeezes it. “I didn’t think I needed to pile that onto you when you were so broken.”

"I needed to come home." That is an absolutely certainty. You needed to get away. To heal. And that never would have been possible if you had stayed in Colombia. "But I don't have the nightmares nearly as much anymore and I'm going a lot better. It's—it too a long time. But yes." Passing the cigarette back again, you have the good manners to look a little sheepish. "That's why I was so shitty while Elisa was around. I was jealous."

“Connie chewed my ass when she found out you were my soulmate.” Javi promises you. “I didn’t think that you cared at first. You were so adamant that our being soulmates was not an issue.” It had stung at the time, wounded his pride and hit at his ego. He had always expected his soulmate to swoon at his feet, or shit would be even easier than it was with most women. It was why he had bristled at the fact and inadvertently caused so much pain for both of you. He shrugs apologetically. “I’m an asshole.”

"I just don't think we were in the right place. Either of us." It's something that you've given a lot of thought over the years and you hope that that is abundantly obvious. "We were far too focused on our careers and couldn't see the forest for the trees. We didn't believe in balance." Sighing slightly, your eyes tick up again to find his and you bite your lip out of nerves. "I believe in balance now."

He chuckles quietly. “I don’t know if I have a job.” He reminds you. “But I know that I want you.” It’s something that has been obvious since the moment he saw you talking to Lorraine. You had appeared back in his life and he wasn’t going to waste a second chance. “What do you want?”

"You." This time you aren't hesitating. You aren't waiting and you aren't waffling. There is no path forward that doesn't include Javi now that he's back in your life. "Everything else is negotiable."

The cigarette is passed back to him and he flicks the ashes into the tray in the other side of the bed, twisting away from you for just a moment before he is facing you again. “We are settled on that.” He agrees, smiling softly in relief. “Now we just have to figure out six million little details.”

"Only six million?" You smirk at him and settle back against his chest again. "Piece of cake. Wanna start with the basics?"

“Which are?” He asks with a snort. “I’ve always thought two kids, but if you want more, I guess we can decide on a number.”

"Two is good." That smirk curls your whole mouth, turning your expression into a grin. "I was thinking more like...where are we going to live?"

“Well…shit.” He chuckles and the hand that isn’t stroking the little pooch of your stomach curls behind his head to prop it up. “That’s a good one. You want me to move to Rhode Island?” He asks. “I’m not too fond of the snow, but I’ll do it.”

"I at least want you to come up and meet my family." You bargain, turning your head so you don't blow smoke from your last drag back in his face. "If you get up there and decide winter is more horrifying than you expected, we can pivot and I'll come down here."

“Summer is shit here.” He points out, wanting to be honest. “It’s a million fucking degrees. So hot you don’t even want to fuck.”

"So it's either winter so cold you freeze when you try to fuck naked, or summer so hot you don't want to fuck at all." You snort in amusement. "Maybe we should move to the middle of California or something."

He curls his nose at that suggestion. “No California.” He huffs. “They are too fucking….Californian.” He doesn’t have a good reason to not like it, but he doesn’t. “Murphy said Miami wasn’t bad.”

"Hot and humid." Which sounds even better than hot on its own. "I don't know if there's a perfect solution, baby. We may just have to pick the one that has something we really love about it and deal with the bad parts that go with it."

“Texas is home for me and Rhode Island is home for you.” He muses. “So we just say fuck it and move to someplace we want.” He looks at you seriously. “Are you done writing? Permanently?”

"I'm done with journalism." That doesn't necessarily mean you'll never write again, but it means you won't be trotted out to rehash the most traumatic week of your life every single time anyone wants to talk to you. "Working in a kitchen has been good for keeping me busy, but I don't know if I want to do it forever."

“Why don’t you transition to a different avenue?” He asks seriously. “Your articles are better researched, plotted and presented than most books I’ve read.”

"I used to really like writing short stories." Tilting your head slightly lets you rest against him completely as you sink down under the blanket with him again and you shrug a little in his arms. "I could give it a shot. I can write in between restaurant shifts. It'll be easy enough to get a line cook job whereever we choose."

“If I don’t have a job with the DEA…” he sighs. “I’ve been offered a deputy position but I’m sure I could get on anywhere.” It doesn’t help make a decision, but he rocks you closer to his body. “But I should be able to support you if you wanted to do it full time.”

"Let's see if I can write anything good enough to actually sell." He's soft and warm and so comforting like this that you could just melt. "If you have a job offer here, let's stay here. There's plenty of restaurants in the area that I can work in for now, and your Pops is here."

“You would want to move here?” Javi’s surprised but he hums as he thinks about it. “There’s a little ranch down the road that’s about to go on the market.” He considers. “Owner died and it’s going through probate.”

“Didn’t we say once that Texans and New Englanders aren’t so different?” All of those early conversations with him are burned into your memory. Years later and you haven’t forgotten a single one of them. “I’m sure I’ll adjust in no time. Ranch, little house, whatever you think will work. You know this place far better than I do.”

“I think before we decide anything, I should probably visit your home, right?” He smirks slightly. “It would only be fair.” He wants to see where you grew up, meet your mother. Things that he had never really contemplated ever having to do, but now he is glad that you aren’t someone he’s known his entire life.

“It’s chilly but not snowy yet.” You promise him, smiling reflexively at the idea of bringing Javier home with you for a little bit. “Fall is the best time to see New England.”

He thinks about that for a moment and then nods. “When would be a good time for me to come?” He doesn’t ask if you want him to just come back with you, that might be too much.

“Well…” A soft laugh escapes you and your cheeks burn. “I’m going back on Monday morning. You could always come with me?”

“You would be okay with that?” His brow lifts in surprise. He had expected you to want to talk to your family first.

“I’ll call my mom tomorrow and let her know, but I don’t think she’ll mind.” You reach up to kiss him, reveling in the warmth of it. “She knows about you. My brothers…I didn’t want to talk about it much. But my mother knows.”

He winces slightly, knowing that by all rights, your mother should have a dismay opinion on him. “How bad should I expect it?” He tone is joking, but only slightly.

“She’ll be skeptical for about an hour after I hang up the phone with her, but if I’m happy then she’s happy.”

“If you want me to come with you on Monday, I’ll call the airline.” He promises, knowing that he owes you a lot more than just a potentially awkward first meeting with your mother. “What time is your flight?”

“Eleven in the morning.” Your eyes tick up to his, concern lining the edges of joy. “That’s not too soon? Too dramatic? We were literally just talking about where to live together and how many kids we want.”

“I’ll be on that flight.” He promises, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “Just gotta make sure D.C. knows how to get ahold of me.”

“I’ll write down my phone number for you.” A promise, as silly as it is, that makes the thing seem all the more real. “I’ve been living with my mom again. It’s easier.”

“Would you rather I get a hotel room?” He asks. “I don’t want to impose.”

“No.” Shaking your head, you feel a little silly for it but you’re certain when you look back up at him. “I want to have you with me. We’ve wasted enough time apart.”

“You are staying here tonight.” He agrees. “Hopefully your brother won’t be worried about you. You left without saying anything.”

“I should probably call the hotel and leave a message,” you admit. “Michael is protective.”

Javi nods. “Do you want to go get your stuff?” He asks. “Or would you rather me stay at your hotel?”

“We can go get my stuff in the morning.” Right now all you care about is snuggling into his side. “I’ll call tonight but I just want to stay here with you.”

“You looked beautiful.” He murmurs softly. “Today. Everyday really, but you looked really beautiful today.”

“Not every day.” The tendency to deflect compliments is long ingrained, but from him they make your cheeks burn.

“Every day.” He repeats, not letting you even doubt that for a second. “You don’t see it? You have this…softness. Even when you have to be strong. A grace and kindness that is bone deep.”

“Softness has always been my issue,” you gripe, though you wave it away. “I’m just glad the diet is working. But…it’s very sweet of you.” Fucking hell you’re bad at taking compliments. “I always admired your resolve, honestly. And attention to detail. Even when it frustrated me it was still impressive.” That grin returns to your lips full force. “The broad shoulders and cut jaw line don’t hurt either.”

There’s a few inches of skin on your side that Javi pinches gently in his hand as he frowns at you playfully. “I love this softness.” He growls, leaning in and biting the bottom of your lip.

“I’m glad.” You laugh softly, never doubting that he means it. Not after everything. “Because two kids will mean plenty of softness.”

“That’s if you want to do that.” Javi says seriously. “If you don’t, I’ll understand.”

“Three always felt like my mom was chasing us.” You hate it but you have to sit up again. Calling Michael’s hotel before you sleep is nonnegotiable. “But being an only child sounds lovely. Two is good.”

“Compromise, is that what it sounds like?” Javi snorts. “You are the one that says how many kids you have.”

“Can I ask you something else?” It seems like the time, considering how honest and open you’re being with each other. And considering what you’ve already talked about tonight.

“You can ask me anything.” He promises, looking up at you. The cigarette is long since smoked, crushed out in the ashtray, but the intimacy and lingering closeness still hovers in the air.

“I just wondered.” It feels silly, but considering where you were today maybe it isn’t. “If you ever wanted to get married? Or if Lorraine spoiled that for you.”

He sighs softly, looking up at the ceiling while he thinks about what he wants to say. “I figured one day it would happen.” He admits. “I knew I should have been happy to marry her, back when I thought she was the one. But something never felt right and I twisted that into believing it wasn’t for me, but I thought I would eventually find someone.” He looks back at you and licks his lips. “But I’d marry you.” He nods.

“I’m not talking about a wedding.” Clarification seems important in this moment, even when the gentle affection in his expression is so real. “A marriage is a life together. A wedding? They’re nice but I don’t think they’re necessary.”

“You wouldn’t want something like today?” He asks curiously. “Family and friends?”

“Not if you wouldn’t enjoy it.” That is what matters to you most. A wedding is a great party but only if the couple both enjoy it when it happens. Otherwise it’s just parading around for a day in clothes you’ll only wear once. “I guess what I mean is that I never envisioned a big white wedding for myself so I wouldn’t be disappointed not to have it. What I care about is having a partner to spend my life with.”

“I don’t mind a wedding.” He has thought about that quite a bit, especially after one particularly vivid dream of you in a white dress. It had haunted him for weeks after having it and it was the closest he came to calling you after you left.

“That’s the road to getting my mother to love you.” It’s both the truth and a bit of teasing, and you don’t mind that. Not really. Not when you know that these conversations — this compromise — is a big and new step for the two of you. The two of you. As a couple. “You brought up kids first and you’re the one who wants a wedding. You’ll be her favorite son instantly.”

He snorts. “I’ll make sure that I bring that up.” He jokes, even though he will follow your lead on interacting with your mom. “Pop will love you. And he thinks it’s funny as hell that you are just as stubborn as me.”

“The universe decided it would be cruel to give us anything less than a taste of our own medicine.” A taste that you deal with a gentle, loving kiss. “I should call the hotel. Before I forget or get distracted by my soulmate some more.”

“You do that.” He smacks your ass when you start to get up and smirks when you whirl around and glare at him. “Got a phone on the dresser.” He points out. “Don’t even have to get dressed.”

“Helpful.” You send that smirk right back at him and shake your head, then cross his room to make the call. To your surprise, your brother actually picks up when the front desk transfers you to the room.

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’ll pick you up.” Your brother rushes out, obviously worried when he came back to the room to find you not there. “Why the hell did you leave without saying anything?”

“I’m so sorry.” Turning back to look at Javi, you cringe apologetically. “But I’m fine. I left with Javier.” The man himself is lying in bed watching you with hooded eyes and you bite your lip. “I’m gonna stay here tonight and come get my stuff from the hotel in the morning, okay?”

“Javier? The guy you were kissing on the dance floor?” His voice ticks up in surprise but he’s relieved that you are okay. You are a grown ass woman, but your time in Colombia and him coming so close to losing you had made him a little protective. “Some chick named Lorraine was going around telling people that he and you are soulmates.”

“We are, Mickey.” The childhood nickname has been on the shelf for a lot of years, but your voice softens with affection — both for him and for Javi. “I had no idea, but your buddy Danny is his cousin.”

If you could see his face, you would laugh at him and call him a fish, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “You— he’s your soulmate?” He asks, sure that he had misheard or you are yanking his chain. “Are you sure?”

"I'm sure." He must be in shock if he isn't teasing or needling you for details, but you can understand that. "Remember before the wedding, I told you he was from here? I wasn't specific. We're literally in his hometown."

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t put it together. I couldn’t imagine when you said Javier you meant Javier.” He frowns, trying to remember what the guy looks like, “He kind of looks like Burt Reynolds, right?”

You snort at the comparison but nod, not bothering to hide your giggles when you look right at Javier and agree. "Yeah, I guess he does kind of look like Burt Reynolds."

He rolls his eyes at you and flips you off, although there is a tiny edge of a smirk on his face. Burt Reynolds had done this pose on a bear skinned rug a few years ago, so Javi flips onto his side and cups his cock while he poses like Burt had while laying across the bed.

When you burst out laughing your brother grunts in confusion, and you have to dismiss it away quickly. "Nothing, nothing," you assure him through laughs. "Javi just flipped me off for the comparison." After a few seconds you calm down again, and shift the phone on your shoulder. "Listen, I'm...I'm gonna call Mom tomorrow. Javi's going to come home with us on Monday to meet her and see the old neighborhood."

“Wow.” He sounds impressed but he agrees. “Sure. I won’t say a word. I just came back to the hotel to change and check on you anyway. Be safe.” He tells you and then murmurs your name. “I love you.” He promises. “And I’m happy you are spending time with your soulmate.”

"I love you too, Mickey. Go have fun with your friends and we'll see you around noon tomorrow so you can sleep off whatever bullshit you get into with your buddies tonight." A round of good nights punctuate the phone call before you hang up and slide back across the room, ready to climb back in bed with Javier. "Lorraine was talking about us after we left," you tell him, smirking. "Everybody in Texas already knows we're soulmates, apparently."

He hadn’t expected anything less, but he shifts to sit up. “Does that upset you?” He asks. “Lorraine was probably trying to spin it, or claim some hand in us finding each other.”

"Baby, she can shout it from the rooftops and I'll just repeat it with pride." You climb onto the mattress and snuggle into his side happily. "I love you."

He softens, folding you against his side. His arm wraps around your back and hums happily. “I love you too, sweetheart.” He repeats back to you, feeling a long yearned for sense of peace as you lay with him.

******

"I know my mom is going to want to feed us as soon as we get back to the house but I swear I'm still full from breakfast." Groaning slightly as you get off the plane, you lean into Javi's side and sigh. Chucho had made you and the boys a big 'going away breakfast' before you left for the airport this morning and even though it was early, everything is bigger in Texas.

“I swear that I’ve never seen that man cook as much as he had for you.” Javi snorts as he shoulders the bag that you had wanted to bring on the plane. His own bag was checked along with your other bag. Guiding you towards the baggage claim.

"Dad used to do the same thing." Michael tells him, trailing just a pace or two behind. He pokes your shoulder and grins. "This one brings out the caretaking instinct in fathers."

“Pop was thrilled to meet her. And it’s been a long time since there was a woman in the house.” He smiles as he takes your hand. “He wanted to make a better impression than me.”

"I promised to take Polaroids while we're up here. He wants to see New England, too." Javier's father had taken to you immediately and without question, and you had relished the opportunity to warm up to your soulmate's father. "I think I'm going to put together a Rhode Island care package to bring to him when we go back to Texas."

“He would love that.” He had enjoyed watching his father fuss over you and how you had responded to the fatherly presence. It had been a long time since Chucho had someone to fuss over and you both seemed to enjoy it. “The man loves gifts, no matter how much he protests.”

“I am not above bribing my future father-in-law for his affection,” you half-joke, though just the sentence makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

“You don’t have to bribe him.” Javi promises. “He might have already put you in his will and written me out.” He had laughed when he had seen how thrilled Chucho was with you, although it had choked him up when the older man had pointed out how like his mother you are.

"Makes sense." The grin on your face is unapologetic, and you keep close to Javi's side as Michael goes hunting up and down the conveyor belt to find his own suitcase. "My mother will love you that much, too. We're just trading parental affection."

He chuckles. “He does know the luggage will come to us, right?” He asks, watching your brother in amusement.

“Impatience is a family trait,” you tell him, entirely unphased by Michael’s unnecessary pursuit. You’re used to it by now.

“I’m not even that bad.” Javi snorts and rolls his eyes. The past couple of days have included both interrogation by your brother and teasing. He hadn’t had the heart to tell the Marine that he’s done more intense interrogations than he would ever dream of.

Leaning into his side again, you put one arm around Javi’s waist and kiss his cheek. “The most patient thing anyone in our family has ever done was the years I waited to see you again.”

“Then I don’t know if I’m impressed or insulted now.” He teases, smirking when you pout at him and lean in to press his lips to yours.

“Be impressed.” You murmur, grinning against his lips when your brother clears his throat.

Javi glances over your shoulder, still kissing you and he smirks when he sees the way he’s shifting uncomfortably. Like it’s strange that you are kissing someone.

"Okay, I'm gonna go find Mom." He says finally, when he has shifted his feet enough times to catch Javier looking at him and knows he's being intentionally needled at.

Reluctantly pulling away from your soulmate, you snag your suitcase that has somehow appeared at your feet — Michael's searching probably — and thread your fingers through Javier's. "We'll all go, don't get your tighty-whities in a twist."

Javi spies his own bag and grabs it, throwing it over his shoulder. “We’re all set.” He promises, shrugging slightly at your brother.

"She said she'd be at arrivals with the car. We should be able to find her easily." You might walk a little faster out of enthusiasm, but that's alright. Your mother was already talking about what she was going to cook to welcome Javier to the family before you hung up the phone with her yesterday.

It’s amusing that you are almost outpacing him, picking up speed and he has to shuffle a little faster to keep up with you. “Excited?”

"Maybe." And you aren't apologetic for it in the least, inhaling the cool autumn air the second you walk out the door between the two men. It only takes a second of scanning the curb full of parked cars to spot your mother and you tug Javier in her direction immediately. "Mom!" She's parked almost all the way down, so you wave and hustle along with Javier and Michael laughing behind you.

Your mother looks like you, or – you look like her. Both of you falling into the hug like it’s been years rather than days since you’ve last laid eyes on each other. “Are they always like this?” He asks Michael.

"Yeah." Your brother nods, shifting his bag to his other hand. "Since she got back, anyway."

Javi sighs softly, knowing that some of that is his fault and he tries to not let the pang of guilt bring down the mood in this first meeting.

There is whispering between you and your mother, but it only takes a few moments before you step back and your mother is walking out toward the two men like a woman on a mission. Without a single second of hesitation, she wraps Javier up in a welcoming hug and holds on tight. "I'm glad to finally meet you." She says close to his ear, because there is no other place for her to speak.

He is surprised by the warm greeting, but his own arms lock around her and he hugs her back. “It’s my pleasure.” He promises. “You have one hell of a daughter.”

"Don't I know it." There is a smile on her face when she draws back, but her hands stay on Javier's shoulders and seriousness in her eyes. "Thank you for making sure she came home to me safely. From the bottom of my heart."

“I was going to at least give her that.” He hums. “Even if we weren’t together then, she was important to me. Her safety was important, and her happiness.”

"Okay, guys..." Wiping away a bit of silent water from under your eyes, you basically flail your hands at your mother and soulmate to urge them to save this heartfelt moment for someplace more private. "Maybe we should go back to the house? Before I get all choked up over here."

Your mom agrees and pulls back and reaches for the handle of your bag, but Javier shakes his head. “I’ve got it.” He insists.

"She said you were a gentleman." Your mother beams. "Come on, guys. Everybody pile in, I've got a lasagna in the oven and your Uncle Carmie dropped off wine last night."

He follows your lead and trails after you as you walk beside your mom, already chatting intensely and it’s interesting to see how open you are with her.

You pile into the backseat with Javier and let your brother sit up front, returning to that new habit you’ve found of leaning into his side whenever you are next to your soulmate. “The drive isn’t long,” you promise him, bucking your seatbelt just before your mother pulls into traffic. “Nothing is too far apart here.”

“That doesn’t bother me.” He has lived in cities and on the ranch where the earnest neighbor was three miles away. Both of them have their pros and cons and he is adaptable. If you wanted to live here, he would grumble when he shoveled snow but he would do it. Couldn’t be much different from shoveling manure.

“The old joke is that if you have to drive more than a half an hour in Rhode Island, that’s a day trip and you have to pack a lunch,” your mother jokes from the front seat. “I imagine Texas is a different animal altogether.”

He snorts. “You can drive all day and still not be out of the state.” He tells you. “If you only drive half an hour, it’s just a quick trip to town.”

“Exactly.” Your mother laughs, putting her attention back on the road. “We’re the smallest state with the biggest attitude.”

“I’m learning that.” Javi hums, winking at you and then looking back out the window.

******

It really doesn't take long to get home again, and you give Javi the complete-if-brief tour of your house ending in your bedroom. It's a huge relief now that you've redecorated since high school. Javi did not need to see all your old heartthrob posters up on the walls.

“She seemed to like me.” He sets your bag down and puts his own beside it, looking around your room. Honestly a little surprised that he has been put with you, he had expected to sleep in a guest room and have to sneak into your bed.

"That's because I was honest with her about the fact that I wouldn't have survived the kidnapping if you hadn't worked your ass off to find me." You take a second to dig out a sweater for an extra layer before tucking yourself into his side, but the warmth from him is better than the sweater you found anyway. "I figured we could tell her the rest together. But she knows you saved my life, Javi. Nothing could make her not like you after that."

"You would have survived." Javi is sure of that now. He might have been a hair's breath away from unravelling then, but now he is completely sure of the fact that you would have found some way to escape. "I know you would have. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"Who knows what would have happened." Exploring the possibilities was important in therapy, but the fact is that he did save you, and you will forever be grateful to him for that. "What matters is that we're both here now."

“We are here.” He smirks. “In your childhood bedroom.” He will definitely be making a few fantasies that he’s entertained since planning this trip come to life.

“That doing something for you, hermoso?” The twist of his lips and raise of his eyebrow isn’t just teasing anymore. You know that look now. It’s a promise.

“Have you ever fucked in here?” He asks, voice dipping down lower, something he’s discovered makes you wet. His arms slide around your back and his groin presses firmly into you. “Or have you just fingered that pretty cunt in this bed?”

“Fuck, Javi—” You have to swallow the rest of your groan so you don’t get carried away, but your arms are up around his neck instantly and you all but purr in his arms. Squirming has the added benefit of rubbing your torso against him and you grin when his smirk flickers in arousal. “No, I haven’t fucked in here yet. You offering?”

“’Course I am.” He snorts, making his cock twitch on purpose. “We can unpack later.”

“Defiling my childhood innocence first thing?” The leering look in his eyes is tinged with sweet affection, though, which makes you grin. “I like it.”

He chuckles, tilting his head to press his lips to yours, enjoying that soft welcome that comes every time. You lean into him, want him just as badly as he wants you and it’s quickly becoming his new obsession.

It’s not more than ten minutes from start to finish, but you’re panting and giggly, wrapped around him when he pulls you back into his arms after wrecking both of you with seemingly little effort. “That’s how long it takes to unpack, right?” You snicker, stealing more kisses before you bother to get redressed.

“Didn’t see you complaining.” He huffs, but he’s grinning back at you. “Sometimes quickies are the best kind of fucking.”

“I would not complain.” One more kiss and you have to pull up your pants, otherwise you’ll just drag him into that bed again. “If I ever complain, take me to a doctor because I’ve been body-swapped.”

“That would be a damned shame too.” He reaches out and slaps your ass playfully. “Happen to like this body, and the attitude that’s in it. When she’s not yelling at me.” He teases, winking at you with a smirk.

"I haven't yelled at you once in the last few days." You smirk, returning the ass smack with a sharp crack of your hand and that has both of you raising impressed eyebrows. "Screaming your name is different."

“You can scream my name as loud as you need to, sweetheart.” Javi chuckles and waggles his eyebrows playfully. The past few days have been filled with lighthearted banter and teasing, making him feel younger than he has in years.

“Later.” It’s a promise. Set in stone. And you toss him a wink before getting redressed. “We should go back down, cariño. I think I finally burned off enough of what your dad fed us for breakfast to be hungry for lunch.”

“Then let’s go get something to eat.” He agrees, holding out his hand for you to take. He likes touching you, loves it actually. It’s reassuring and calming for him to touch you. It’s like the part of him that he didn’t know was aching while you were gone is now soothed and repaired when his fingers caress your skin.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” In the doorway of your old room, holding hands with your soulmate, you bite your lip out of nerves.

“You can ask me anything.” The lightheartedness has morphed into something sober, but he doesn’t waver, holding your gaze.

“If you don’t want to have the conversations with my family about marriage or kids or the big future things, it’s totally fine. Everything has happened really fast. So if you only want to tell them about moving to be together, that’s okay with me.” It’s not exactly a question, the way you phrased it, but the thought tumbles out without editing and you hold tight to his hand for certainty. You’re not trying to wiggle out of anything, but rather saying that you’ll take things at his pace.

“Baby,” Javi turns towards you and he caresses your face with his free hand, still holding tight to your other one. “I’ll answer any question that they want to ask.” He promises. “Most of them are yours to answer anyway.” He reminds you. “You decide when you want to get married, or be pregnant.”

"I just don't want you to feel rushed. Or pressured." You clarify, leaning into his chest to hug him tight.

“I’ve had my entire life to wait for this moment.” He assures you. “I’m not feeling rushed, sweetheart. I think we need to be right here.”

"I love you." More than you thought you could. More than you ever expected to. So much that it feels like it's filling up your chest and you hope it never stops.

******

"There you two are." Your mother has the entire table filled with food when you come downstairs, exactly as you predicted, and you give Javi's hand a squeeze as if told say 'I told you so'.

"Sorry, I was showing Javi some old photos after we unpacked," you lie, neatly brushing away the extra time you were upstairs. And making a mental note to show him some high school photos later.

"Hmmmm." The sound that she makes is one of amused disbelief but she doesn't call you out directly. Instead, she motions towards the seats. "Come on, let's eat." She insists.

"So this is what it takes to get you to make lasagna, huh?" Instead of lingering on the question or her obvious disbelief, you trend straight toward teasing — as is your entire family's custom. "One of your kids has to bring home their soulmate to make it happen?"

“Figured it was as good a time as any.” She swats at you playfully and looks towards Javier. “Do you drink wine?”

"Uncle Carmie's homemade basement hooch is an acquired taste, Ma," you laugh, but reach to grab the bottle from the counter anyway before you sit down. "Try some of mine, babe. If you like it, then pour a glass for yourself."

“We made bathtub hooch in high school.” Javi snorts, looking at the bottle and pouring himself some instead of trying yours like you suggested. If he doesn’t like it, he’ll just have the one glass.

"Brave man." Michael snorts, already digging into lunch and bypassing the salad bowl to serve himself a large slice of lasagna. "That shit will put hair on your chest."

"Language, Michael." Your mother warns. "We have a guest.”

Javi chuckles. “I’ve said worse things.” He promises her. “Nothing he says will surprise me.”

"I didn't raise my babies to be crass." She insists, luckily paying more attention to passing the plate of garlic bread than she is to your face and missing the doubtful expression to shoot Javi and your brother. "So, Javier, what an unexpected weekend!"

“It has been surprising,” he admits, looking over at you with a small smile. “But I don’t think that it’s been unwelcome for either one of us.”

"Not at all." You can agree to that wholeheartedly. "It feels very...meant to be."

“I honestly don’t know if I would have had the nerve to call her if she hadn’t shown up at the wedding.” He tells your mother honestly.

"I think it's very sweet that you found each other again by accident." Once everyone is served, only then does your mother tuck in. The four of you have plenty of space at the big, round dinner table but it doesn't feel like you're far apart or that the table is crowded. It just feels comfortable. "The powers that be knew it was time to nudge you back together."

Javi looks down at the meal as been dished up, it looks delicious. “Thank you.” He tells her. “It looks amazing. Your daughter is also one hell of a chef so I know this will be great.”

“She takes after her father.” Your mother beams at that. “I do my best, but she’s got his talent.”

The praise is kind, but you shrug slightly and fork up a perfect bite before throwing Javi a grin. “Chucho promised to teach me Southern cooking, so I’m combining Dad powers.”

“Dad has all of my mom’s recipes.” Javi explains. “Although most of them haven’t been used since she got sick.”

“It can be hard to reopen those old memories. Food carries such nostalgia.” Your mother smiles gently, having known already from your stories about your soulmate that he had lost his mother years ago. “I’m sure she would be proud, just like my husband would be, to see her recipes handed down to the next generation.”

“She would have loved your daughter.” Javi snorts, looking over at you with a fond smile. “And encouraged you to give me hell at every opportunity.”

"That she gets from me," your mother laughs, grinning as you and your brother just shake your heads and continue to eat.

"We figured out early on that Texas stubborn and New England stubborn are pretty similar," you tell her when you finish your bite. "Which is why we butted heads early on. I'm glad we got that phase out of the way early on."

“I’m sure that there will be plenty of head butting left.” Javi has no illusions that life together would be a walk in the park. Neither one of you are built that way.

"Of course." That is the more realistic way of approaching it, you're just feeling really good about the situation right now and it's making you feel rosy. "But at least we'll talk to each other when that happens now. Instead of stonewalling or just getting mad."

“That’s right.” He nods and winks at you before looking back at your mother. “I know you have a lot of questions for me.”

“I might.” She laughs though, appreciating the acknowledgment, and then laughs again when you wave your hand to tell her to go ahead. “Well,” she sips her wine and considers the man at her table. He’s older than you but not by too terribly much. Certainly handsome, but looks as though he has been through a lot. Like the edges of his smile are etched with concern that it might all be too fleeting. Poor dear. He needs a partner. “Have the two of you talked about how you’re going to manage this yet?” She asks, motioning between the two of you.

“To be completely honest….” Javi glances back at you and then looks towards your mother again as he taps the table. “I’m not sure where I stand professionally.” He admits, knowing that it wouldn’t help him get in your mother’s good graces, but it’s the truth. “I am waiting to hear from Washington.”

“Basically, Mom?” You set your fork down for a moment and offer Javi a reassuring smile. “We’re talking about living together being the next step, but we won’t know where until Javi hears from work.”

“I see.” She wonders what he might have done, but she doesn’t ask. “And hopefully there will be a guest bedroom wherever this might be for visitors?”

“Of course.” She isn’t being immediately critical or insistent that you move near her, so you’re ready to agree to just about anything. “No matter where we end up, there will be space for guests.”

“Good.” She will have to be satisfied with that. And hopefully with Javier being in trouble at his job, that will mean that he won’t go back to Colombia. Although, why would he? Escobar is dead.

“There’s no way to do it easily,” you point out to your mother gently. “With both of our families being so far apart.”

“I understand.” She might have broken down crying after the phone call, both in relief that you have been reunited with your soulmate and the fear of losing you again. She won’t tell you that. For too long you had tried to pretend Javier hadn’t existed and that Colombia was a bad dream, now you look happy. She’s not doing to put a damper on that for anything in the world.

“It’s alright, Ma.” Michael jokes, trying to relieve the tension at the table. “Your boys are still homebodies.”

“You never would leave if you wouldn’t get thrown in the brig.” She huffs at her son, but she is happy for how much they love their home.

You glance over at Javi, squeezing his knee under the table in silent question, and smile again when he returns your query with a little nod. Just like upstairs, he reassures you that it's okay to tell. To share the things you've talked about. "If we end up anywhere without four seasons, we're going to have to come home for the holidays at least a few times," you tell your mother, unable to suppress any of the warmth and joy in your expression. "I know you won't let your grandkids go without at least a few white Christmases."

“Babies?” Her eyes widen dramatically and she lights up like a Christmas tree herself. “You’re talking kids?”

There is the excitement you knew was lurking beneath the surface. You know it will be bittersweet for her to have you leave again, but good things are looming in the future. "Not right away," you caution her, but can't help grinning along with your mother. "But yes. We're talking about kids."

“You will make such beautiful babies together.” She sighs happily, emotional and even having to wipe away a stray tear.

"You pressed the grandma button." Michael snorts and helps himself to a second piece of lasagna. "But that means I get to be the favorite uncle, right?" He eyes Javier and raises one eyebrow. "Do you have any brothers, Jav?"

“No.” It’s unusual but he shakes his head. “I’m an only child.” He admits with a sigh. “My parents had a lot of loss early on in pregnancies. So after mama gave birth to me, they decided they were done. Pop didn’t want to risk her health.”

“Which makes perfect sense.” You squeeze his hand gently on top of the table, fingers tucked into fingers, as if that little gesture could possibly tell him that he is enough. That his family is just the right size as it is. “Our kids will already have two ridiculous uncles. That is plenty.”

“I never felt alone.” He tells you quietly. “Too many cousins for that.” He knows you will feel a little sad for him, but you shouldn’t.

“I know, cariño.” His childhood was different from yours, which doesn’t make it better or worse in any way. It just makes it different. “And if you ever catch me implying that it was, just remind me that you have more cousins than I do.”

He smiles at you, understanding completely and reaches for his glass to take a sip of the wine.

“Will there…” Your mother clears her throat in that pointed way only parents can. “Be a wedding, before there are babies? That’s the old fashioned order, I’m told.”

“Unless there’s a change in plan.” He has to admire how blunt your mother is. “My father would beat me black and blue if it was the other way.”

“Glad your father and I are on the same page.” She hums, smirking with something like victory.

He cuts his eyes over at you and gives you an amused look, very aware of the plans your mother is already making. “So we were thinking of eloping.” He announces, just to see what she would say.

The unceremonious squawk that comes out of her mouth is pure shock, you know that, but the way her jaw hits the floor and her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates has you bursting out laughing and all but clinging to Javi’s arm to jerk from falling out of your chair.

“Calm down, Mom,” you wheeze through laughter. “He’s fucking with you.”

Javi chuckles and shrugs. “She bet me twenty dollars I wouldn’t tell you that.” Michael thinks it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard and slaps Javi on the shoulder.

“I’ll buy you dinner.” You huff, rolling your eyes at him but glad that the boys are entertaining each other.

“You cannot elope.” Your mother gasps and Javi wonders if she actually heard you say it was a joke or if she was too busy having an aneurism. “We aren’t.” He promises. “We will do it right.”

“Javi wants to have a wedding.” Offering up that information seems so important now that you practically hand it to your mother on a platter. “We won’t elope, we promise.”

“I’ve had one failed trip to the altar.” He admits, being honest with your mother seems like a good thing to do. Especially since you and her are close. “My ex-fiancée tricked me into thinking we were soulmates. I found out the night before the wedding.” He sighs. “It put me off of the idea for a long time, but I want to marry your daughter.”

“Is this…” Your mother looks at you curiously.

“The woman telling everyone about us now? Yeah.” You shrug to Javi. “I told her about meeting Lorraine on the phone.”

“She’s been around for a long time.” Javi sighs. “Small town life and all.”

“Oh, I know all about that.” Your mother nods as if she suddenly understands the situation perfectly. “My sister-in-law is the queen of small town gossip. Up here at least. They would probably be dangerous together.”

“I don’t mind people knowing.” Javi shrugs again. “So I didn’t try to keep her from running her mouth.”

"No, it's definintely not a secret." Not anymore. Not this time around. Not when you've well and truly learned your lesson about keeping your mouth shut when you care about someone. You will never abstain from telling Javi you love him again. "I'd shout it from the rooftops here and in Texas."

Javi chuckles and smirks at you. “Really? From the rooftops?”

His challenge only makes you grin and you nod emphatically. “Pick some rooftops if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.” He promises. “But I don’t think it’s necessary. I know you love me. And I’d do anything for you.”

“I’m glad we agree.” You murmur, leaning over at the table to kiss him softly. The smallest, gentlest show of affection that actually means so much. The fact that you’ve learned to be gentle with each other is huge. It shows how far you’ve come, and so quickly too.

******

“Javier, uh, there’s a call for you.” The statement comes with a little bit of bewilderment, and Javi looks at you as he leans forward, unfolding his arm from where it was lying behind you on the couch. “Okay.” He stands up quickly, aware that two people have this number, his father and the secretary for the director of the DEA. Either way, a call for him has to be important.

Your mother has set down the telephone on the nearby kitchen counter in order to come into the living room where the television is on, and she sits down in her armchair on your other side when you don't get up to follow Javier into the kitchen immediately.

"Did it sound official?" You ask, wondering if Chucho is alright or if the calls he's been waiting for from Washington has finally come through.

“It was a woman.” She frowns slightly and glances back towards the kitchen. “Like a secretary or something.”

"His hearing." Sinking slightly in your seat seems like a reasonable reaction, but a moment later you're pushing off the couch to stand. "If it were his dad, you would still be in there chatting long distance. A secretary means the call is from Washington."

Javi turns as you walk into the kitchen, still listening as he motions you forward. “Wednesday at thirteen hundred.” He confirms, frowning slightly when he realizes that it will eat into his visit with your family. He will have to get the train to D.C. tomorrow to make sure he’s there on time. “Yes. Thank you.”

He opens one arm to let you close when he hangs up the phone, and you immediately slip to his side. "Wednesday." You repeat the day and tuck yourself in tight beside him. "I'll call and get out train tickets if you want to go pack."

He sighs softly, resting his cheek against yours and feeling a little nervous. He knows that they should fire him, but he doesn’t want to end his career with the DEA like this. “Do you want to come with me?”

"Of course I'm coming." There was never a doubt or question in your mind. "I'm not going to make you face this alone, baby. Especially not when you did it for me."

“Even if I am fired, I still have no regrets.” Javi promises, dropping a kiss on your lips gently.

"If you're fired then we'll go back to Texas with our heads held high, and you'll take that deputy job." You promise him, savoring that kiss and that promise like a lifeline. "I'm with you no matter what."

“No matter what.” It might be surprising to him, something he’s still accepting and getting used to, but he takes comfort in it. No matter what, he will have you.

******

"How long do you think we'll have to wait for them to deliberate?" Waiting outside the hearing room to be called back in feels like waiting for a death sentence, but you sit with your hands under your thighs and try not to fidget in your most-presentable office dress while Javi paces up and down the hallway.

Sighing, he resists the urge to rub his hand through his hair and ruin it. It’s already been hard enough to resist having a cigarette. Fuck, he needs one. “The rest of my life.” He growls, glancing back at the door impatiently.

"At least we're on the same page." You agree, sighing outwardly and silently wishing for the same two things as him — an answer and a cigarette.

He glances back at you on his next pass down the hallway and sees you playing with your skirt. Walking over to the chair beside you and dropping down into it with a heavy huff. “Whatever happens, I’m not going to apologize for what I did.” He reminds you. “Kissing ass isn’t my style.”

"I don't expect you to apologize." No, you know him better than that. And you know the bastards in the government better than that, too. "I just wish I could go in there and start throwing punches at the assholes who preside over all the bullshit bureaucracy while they make everybody else do the dirty work."

“Fucking bastards.” He grunts, glancing back at the door again. “I should tell them to kiss my ass.”

"Aw, c'mon." You squeeze his hand, aiming a lurid grin at him to try to distract him for even a second. "That's my job."

He snorts and shakes his head. “You haven’t done it yet.” He points out, smirking slightly.

Glad that your strategy worked even for a second, you wink and blow him a kiss. "Tonight," you promise, glossing it in a sultry tone that makes both of you laugh.

The door to the room opens and Javi’s face immediately shifts into something serious. Whipping his head around to watch as a bureaucrat in a well-cut suit and a fresh haircut sticks his head out. “Peña,” he calls. “We’re ready for you.”

You squeeze his hand tightly before letting go so he can straighten, and silently curse the whole bullshit process one more time as he disappears behind the hearing room door. You aren't allowed in there despite having played a role in the whole thing, and so you're stuck outside listening at the door for at least a little bit longer.

Javi sees a panel of five in front of him and he knows that it’s not good. He’s rubbed some the wrong way, especially since Messina is one of the five. He had ignored her orders more than once in the pursuit of Escobar.

It's a bureaucratic lecture as much as a hearing. A spanking laced with backhanded compliments. It's a clusterfuck of blame gaming and backpedaling. It's the kind of bullshit that would have had you snapping at someone if you were in here with him so he is belatedly glad that you have to wait outside.

Right up until those few magic words: "Agent Peña, how much do you know about the Cali Cartel?"

******

An hour later, Javier opens the door, stepping back out onto the hall with a slightly stunned expression on his face.

"What happened?" He doesn't look upset, but you still shoot up out of your seat instantly.

He had been looking down at the file in his hand and when you say something, he looks up at you. Suddenly wondering if this might be too much for you. “I— got a promotion.” He manages.

"What?" Your jaw drops and eyebrows shoot up to your hairline.

He rocks his jaw for a moment and steps over to you. Frowning slightly. “I shouldn’t take it.” He murmurs quietly, hearing the door open behind him and the panel file out of the room, chattering to themselves.

"Do you want to take it?" It seems ludicrously obvious to you that he should take it, in fact, but Javi is not always a straightforward man.

“More than anything, but….” He sighs softly and reaches up to cup your cheeks. “I’ll walk away if you want me to.”

"Why the hell would I want you to do that?"

“I have been made station chief of Bogotá, Colombia.” He reveals softly. “Tasked with taking down the Gentlemen of Cali.”

"Shit." It feels for a second like you've been kicked in the chest by Chucho's work horse, but the swirling confusion around you settles to a sting in mere moments. "So...we're going back?"

He sees the panic that races across your face, the fear flashing in your eyes. He wants this. He wants to prove that he can do it, that he can complete his mission and take them down, but he won’t do it at your expense. “Not if you don’t want to.” It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you to stay behind, but he knows you will reject that idea completely.

It takes a long second, but when you rest your hand on his wrist and feel the warmth of him flood you — the safety of him — you remember how to breathe. "I won't do anything stupid this time," you promise him without a hint of sarcasm or teasing. "If you say I need security, I need security. And I'm not taking any shitty jobs in dodgy parts of town."

“Are you sure?” He worries and it shows in his eyes, not caring that his superiors see him with you like this. They know the connection – now – and it’s already been determine that he would have secure housing for you and him. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to make yourself go if you can’t.” As badly as he wants this, he would never make you relive that time.

“I love you, too.” That is what he’s saying. Through the worry and the negotiation, he’s saying how much he cares, and that means the world to you. So you take a deep breath. “Escobar is dead. Whatever the new threat is…I know you can deal with it. And I’d rather try and go with you than just hide in my fear forever. If it’s too much, I’ll come back to the States and we’ll rack up a hell of a long distance bill.”

“Okay.” He watches you closely, looking for any hesitation. “We’ll be staying in a high security building.”

“I’m proud of you.” It’s so important that he know that. That he understands this is a huge victory and that you don’t let it be overshadowed by what happened years ago. “You’ve worked your ass off and you deserve the recognition.”

“We’ll see.” He snorts. “It’s more responsibility, and I’ll be more hands off.” That part will drive him crazy, not leading the investigation himself.

"You'll have office hours?" It sounds almost entirely foreign coming from a man you know used to burn the candle at every available end. "And I would be waiting for you at home...how very Donna Reed of us."

He chuckles. “Well you can always work on those family recipes and go get your hair done and have lunch.” He shrugs. “Whatever the wives do.”

"Maybe that's the first book. A family cookbook." You laugh slightly, in disbelief at how ordinary it sounds. "So when do we leave?"

Javi grimaces slight and bites his lip. “A week?” He asks. “They wanted me to leave in two days but I told them I needed a week.”

"Okay." That gets a nod from you, and you grasp his hands tightly. "We'll get train tickets to go back to Rhode Island tonight and I'll pack up, then we'll fly back to Laredo so you can pack, too? See Chucho again for a few days and then we'll fly back to Colombia from Texas?"

“That works for me if it works for you.” He hums, wondering if you are putting on a brave face or if you are just this strong.

"I'll look up Inez after we get settled." You decide, grateful for a moment to lean against him when he opens up one arm to let you into his orbit. He's worried. You know that. And you're worried too. But it took until the prospect of being apart from him again to realize that the bond between you is a hell of a lot stronger than your fear. "We'll make it work."

He almost asks if you will see about finding Vanessa and Freckles, but he doesn’t. He can’t ask that question, not right now. He nods. “It would be good for you to have someone.” He murmurs.

“I’ll do my best to make friends with the other wives,” you promise, but you know it might be futile. You’re probably going to struggle with the traditional role expected of you, but you’ll get the important things right. Being there to support him is the most important part. “There’s…no chance Steve and Connie will be there with us, I guess?”

“They are in Miami.” He tells you, shaking his head. “Family is there and they have Olivia.”

“Yeah.” It was a long shot and you knew that, so you just nod. “I didn’t think so. That’s okay. They earned their rest. You still have some serious ass to kick.” A warm, soft, fierce smile curves up the corners of your mouth, etched with pride and determination. This may not be your fight from the outside, but you have some personal demons who need to get squashed in the process.

******

“Sweetheart?” The man who would never pass up a chance to eye a beautiful woman barely looks at the young stewardess as she asks if there’s anything else he needs after delivering his drink. Glancing over at you to make sure you haven’t changed your mind about just wanting water. “Anything else?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.” At some point later you might ask for a snack but right now your water and the window seat are plenty enough.

“We’re good.” He turns back towards the slightly miffed looking woman with a nod, but doesn’t smile at her as he dismisses her.

You huff a laugh under your breath as she walks away and settle your hand over his knee in the tiny airplane seats. “You bruised her ego. Poor thing wanted to flirt.”

“Huh?” His brow furrows in confusion and he frowns as he tries to understand what you are talking about. Until he catches the woman moving out of the corner of his eye and glances over. “Oh. No.” He shakes his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

“How was she supposed to know that?” You ask with a small grin. Commitment is a very sexy look on him.

He glances back at you, aware that you are teasing him and he shifts in his seat. He’s had time to think about a lot of things. Going back to Colombia is chance for him to prove himself, in more ways than one. “I – uh, I know that I’ve been— uh, a slut.” He grimaces slightly at the term, but it’s the truth. “But even Lorraine would tell you that I never— when we were together – I didn’t cheat.”

“Javi…” His choice of term does makes you crack a grin, but you still face him in your seat and take this moment as seriously as he is in giving it to you. “To be honest? It never even crossed my mind that you might. You were both a bit slutty before.” In Colombia, at least. You haven’t been since meeting him. “And now we’re committed. It’s a brave new world of monogamy for both of us.”

It’s like he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the relief is nearly physical. He wouldn’t blame you if he couldn’t satisfy your needs, it would honestly be kind of a fitting punishment for everything he’s done, but when you say monogamy he knows you mean it. “Yeah it is.” He nods.

“We can do it.” Seeing the relief on his face is almost like seeing it on your own, and you laugh a little and lower your voice. “We both have high sex drives. I’ll just come into the office so we can fuck on your lunch break.”

“Too bad you don’t still have that skirt you wore the first day I met you.” Now that that larger than imagined weight is off his chest, he smirks at you. Still imagining how you would have looked back then bent over his desk.

"I can easily get a new pencil skirt." In fact, now that you've lost a bit of weight, it will be that much easier to find nice things. "Should be a piece of cake now."

He frowns again and reaches for your hand. “The original was fucking sexy.” He promises. “I thought about bending you over my desk and didn’t know your name.”

The reassurance is sweet, and welcome, but you lean over to press a chaste kiss to his lips and grin. "And now you actually get to do it."

“Too bad it’s a full flight.” He chuckles. “Otherwise I might haul you into the bathroom on this tin can.”

"Save it." You nudge your nose against his. "We have a new apartment to christen."

“About that.” Javi shrugs slightly. “Station chief has its perks.” He tells you. “We are in penthouse accommodations. Views of the entire city.”

“Very fancy.” He’s told you about a few perks so far, including the fact that they’ve apparently assigned him a driver that you know he won’t use. Javi’s preference is always to drive himself — even visiting your family you gave directions from the passenger seat. “No jogging up three flights of stairs this time.”

“Thank fucking god.” Javi groans, leaning back in his seat. “I’m getting too old for that shit.”

"Just wait until it's kids we're running after." You sit back with him, grin still spread across your face. "That's a hell of a lot more running, cariño."

“Fuck.” He hisses. “Do you think those little assholes will run across rooftops too?”

"Not until they're older." Your laugh turns full and amused, but you link your fingers through his and smile. "I have a feeling at least one of them will grow up to be a stubborn badass like their dad."

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “I’ve never told anyone this….and I’ll deny I said shit— but I don’t like heights.”

"Well." Fingers squeezing his, you nudge his shoulder and grin. "Then I won't ask you to fuck me against the penthouse windows. Don't need you looking down and getting scared."

“Oh no, fuck that.” His eyes shoot open and he glares at you. “That’s happening.” He huffs. “I mean I don’t like running across a roof when I have don’t know if I’m going to fall through the mother fucker and kill myself. I’ll definitely fuck you against the window.”

You smother a snort, knowing that that comment would get to him but glad to see the fire in his eyes regardless. "I'm looking forward to it."

He huffs at you, fully aware that you had baited him and he had fallen for it. Cutting his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink, he passes it to you automatically after he swallows.

"Don't be sour." He's ordered a whiskey from the stewardess and the sip you take burns pleasantly on its way down before you hand it back. "It's my only penthouse-related fantasy. I just wanted to make sure it sounded good to you, too."

“I’m not sour.” He promises after a moment. “Do you want to read the file too?” He has no intention of leaving you out of anything.

"Am I allowed to?" It hadn't occurred to you that it would be permitted, what with government red tape and all.

“Yeah.” He nods as he reaches down and pulls the file out of his briefcase. “I’ve already told them you will be read in.” He shrugs. “They don’t care since you are my soulmate.”

"I guess that saves us from having to worry about talking shop at home." Although you have to wonder if they would still be so blase if you were still employed as a journalist. Probably not. Which is fair.

“They knew I was going to do it anyway.” He admits shamelessly. “Nothing that could possibly put you in danger will be kept from you.”

"Who knows." You shrug. The flight is just beginning and you settle in for the few hours it will take to get to your layover in Mexico City. "Maybe I'll be able to help? I guess we'll find out."

******

The keys rattle in the door before it swings open, revealing Javi. Carrying his suit jacket and another box of files, he shuffles into the house and closes the door behind him. He’s later than he said he would be, and he feels guilty when he smells dinner, obviously waiting on him. Hopefully you got sick of waiting for him and went ahead and ate. “I’m home.” He calls out.

"I'm in the kitchen!" When you heard the door you had hopped up from the dinner table to throw dinner back into the oven and you stretch your aching muscles by reaching for two glasses and the whiskey bottle as he drags himself in looking haggard. "Hey baby."

“Hey.” He’s frustrated and tired, but he shoots you a half smile, aware that you will understand that. “Sorry. I got caught up.” It’s not an excuse, but at least you didn’t have to call him to find out where he was – this time.

"I figured, so I put your portion of baked pasta in a separate baker. I just put it in the oven. C'mere and let me hug you." Your arms come around him once he puts the files down on the counter, holding him against you and letting the relatively simple act of holding him evolve naturally as it always does — into a deep kiss.

Javi leans into you, unable to articulate how much he has needed you and appreciated you being here this time. He has the physical connection he needs, the emotional one just as important and he can confide in you. Pour his worries out and he knows that you would never betray him. Being the station chief in charge of this ordeal has been far more difficult than he had even imagined and it seems like no one but him and his agents want the gentlemen of Cali behind bars.

"So you brought home some weekend reading?" You prompt, after he's melted into your arms and is limply hugging you back like he does on his hardest days.

“I honestly don’t know if I can fucking do this.” He sighs, pulling back and looking at you with a weary expression. “We are being stonewalled.”

"Of course you can do this." A little self-doubt is understandable, though, and you lead him over to the table to let him flop into a chair while you go back for the glasses and whiskey. "If this was going to be easy they could have had anyone sitting in your office just napping the day away. But they asked you. They asked the man that they knew could push through the hardest days and the pull the hardest punches." You set the glasses down beside him and pour both to join him. "We've been here almost a year, Jav. We're just barely cracking the surface. The whole thing getting hard as hell right before you find a crack in the case...it's annoying as fuck but it makes sense."

He snorts, even though you are right. “It’s almost annoying how good you are at this.” He grumbles, nodding his thanks for the drink and pulling you down into his lap.

"I'd like to think I've had a little practice by now," you admit, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "Just like you've learned how to talk me down from my word count panics when I don't think I'm getting enough written to really count as a writer."

“Your book is going to be amazing.” When he needs a break from reports or the bullshit that comes with this case, he’s been reading your progressing first draft of your novel. Giving you his honest feedback and never complaining when you make him re-read a slightly changed chapter over and over again.

"I'm going to claw my way into the mystery genre with my bare hands." The two of you share a small laugh, another kiss, and a sip from the same glass before you lean your forehead against his gently. "Happy anniversary, by the way."

“Anniversary?” His brows furrow in confusion and his heart skips a beat with worry that he’s fucked up something bad.

"It's been four years since we met the first time." It isn't the anniversary of when you got together, or of when you first started living together, or any of the other things. But something small, and silly, and just for you. "It's not big, but it's worth marking."

“Oh shit.” He relaxes slightly and his fingers caress your side gently. “Yeah, it’s been four years.” In some ways, it seems like a lifetime ago, so much has changed.” That makes him think of something. “Did you ever send that letter to Helena?”

"I got back a postcard today." There is no need to hop up from his lap, thankfully, and instead you reach across the table to slide the glossy card out from under your notebook and hand it to him. "She's getting married. Apparently her soulmate was in the States the whole time. But she promises to write us a longer letter when they're back from their honeymoon in a few weeks."

“That’s good.” Probably the best news he’s heard in a long time and he picks up the card to look at the neat handwriting. “She deserves happiness.”

"She does." You can agree to that wholeheartedly. "I'm glad she found it."

He hums and leans in, pressing his face into your neck and breathing you in. “Just like we’ve found it.” He murmurs softly. “We should get married.”

"You gotta propose first, hermoso." It might only be a gentle tease, but you grin as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close. "Then I can say yes and we can get to planning."

Sitting in his button up shirt, his tie askew, Javier reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ring that he had taken out of the box earlier to inspect and shoved in his pants when Stetchner had come into his office uninvited. “You want me to get down on one knee?” He asks, holding it up for you to see. “Figured we could elope and not tell your mom. Let her plan the wedding and we just show up.”

"Javi!" The surprise of seeing an actual ring in his hand has you nearly falling off his lap but you hold on even tighter out of shock, just like thoughts start tumbling out of your mouth like they do when you get surprised. "No you don't need to get—did you really—how long have you been carrying that around for?"

“Picked it up two weeks ago?” He had been trying to think of something romantic, something fitting for your proposal, but everything seemed overkill. He showed you he loved you everyday, with the little things, not with overly elaborate proposals that could mean shit if he didn’t really want to commit. But right now seems like the right time. A very honest moment between the two of you.

"It's perfect." The ring, the moment — him — all of it. It's a standstill moment in time that could never have been manufactured and never could be duplicated. It's just for the two of you and it's perfect. You swoop in, needing to kiss him right now more than you need air.

He takes the kiss, easily, happily. Wrapping his arm around you and still holding up the ring, he lets the kiss drag on for a long minute before he pulls back with a smirk. “Is that a yes then?”

"Hell yes that's a yes." A giddy laugh bubbles out of you, and you can't help but steal one more, infinitely more chaste, kiss. "As soon as you want. We'll have to run back to the States for a weekend to actually have the wedding, but I'll let Mom plan whatever she wants and she'll be ecstatic."

“I thought you would like that.” The party is more of what Javier wants. The celebration. He doesn’t care if it’s in a church, although he’s sure that’s where it will be. And you will have already been married for however long planning the wedding takes, so you will get your way with wanting a marriage. “I love you, sweetheart.” He promises softly. “It’s fitting that our story started here and this is where we will make it forever.”

"I love you, too." He slides the ring onto your finger with satisfied pride and you don't bother blinking away the press of happy tears behind your eyes. They don't fall, you don't blubber, they're just there. Reminding you that the pounding of your heart is just as real as this moment. "I can't wait for whatever comes next."

------

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo @missladym1981 @alexiamargot06 @southernbe @cloudroomblog @the-queen-of-sorrows

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #plus size reader #Narcos #Narcos fanfic #soulmate au #forced proximity #and they were roommates #enemies to lovers

107 notes · View notes

liz-allyn · 3 months ago

Text

sugar + vice - the collection (so far)

a mafia love story • TASM!Peter Parker x OFC/MJ! Variant Read on AO3 because, yeah.

Over a decade ago, Peter Parker of this (alternate) universe survived a horrible tragedy and saw firsthand the depth of New York City's corruption. He challenged the Underworld and conquered it. Now, he's its god.

The last thing he needs is some sweet Persephone — at a coffee shop, no less — smiling at him, charming him, intriguing him. Tempting him.

Innocence never tasted so sweet.

VOLUME 1

Ch.1 | Ch. 2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4 | Ch.5 | Ch.6 | Ch.7 | Ch.8 | Ch.9 | Ch.10 | Ch.11 | Ch.12 | Ch.13 | Ch.14 | Ch.15 | Ch.16 | Ch.17 | Ch.18 | Ch.19 | Ch.20 | Ch.21 | Ch.22 | Ch.23 | Epilogue [complete; 172k words, mob!au] 🌶⚔️ ❤️‍🩹

VOLUME 2 [in progress]

1 • Love On The Brain 11.9k words 🌶

2 • Bittersweet 5.6k words NEW ❤️‍🩹

INTERLUDES (coming soon)

New Rules • Of Monsters and Men • Mother's Day • The Perfect Drug • Madripoor • The Skulls • Eye for an Eye • A Simple Favor

+ bonus content below

SPOTIFY PLAYLISTS

Other tags: Can be considered 'Reader', No physical descriptions, NO use of Y/N, Angst, Sensitive Content Warning, Read the Warnings, Enemies to Lovers, Mob!Peter, Mafia!AU, Peter Parker is a Mess, Rich Peter Parker, Mob!Peter Parker, Childhood Trauma, Blood and Injury, So Much Pining, no y/n, Forced Cohabitation, Past Domestic Ab*se, A mafia story that's actually violent and not silly, Forced Relationship, Slow Burn, Cute Dates, Protective Peter Parker, BAMF Peter Parker, Sugar Daddy, Smut, Recreational Drug Use, Enemies to Friends to Idiots to Lovers, Addiction, Yandere!Peter sorta, Steamy Photo Sessions, Mildly Dubious Consent, Expl*cit S**ual Content, Sexual Tension, Mutual M*sturb*tion, Dark Past, Secrets, Dark Peter Parker, Past Peter Parker/Gwen Stacy (The Amazing Spider-Man), New York City, Kidnapping, Coffee Shop Meet Cute, Superior Spider

Enjoyed the story? Reblog and follow :-)

back to main masterlist

139 notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

Text

The horror and the wild [!emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] ch.5

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5l you're here! AO3

Word count: 3188 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

Warnings for this chapter: Predator/Prey kink, mild choking

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her. Little princess is dumb and naive and oh, so deliciously weak, it makes Konig sick just how much he adores her pouty face, her aggressive expressions, and that squeak in her voice every time he does something to embarrass her – which he does, a lot, in fact. Quite aware of how his war dog lingo would affect an innocent young lady like his precious dearest darling illustrious wife, he uses it to hi advantage – when you have your lady cornered, heavy panting and cumming from your tongue and your fingers in her tight royal cunt, she wouldn’t be able to open her mouth for something meaningless, right? Thou shall not think as thou would be a sin against god.

Emperor is a sinner, but he still believes that you shall always follow the religious instructions – as if not ever trying to oppose him and speak like you have the right to think in his presence. Perhaps, his devotion to making you weak and pliable in his arms is what led to this situation.

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her, so little princess runs.

You might brag about your best education and most elegant courses for women you attended in the palace – but he knows just how empty your adorable little head is, because you had no idea how much the thrill of the hunt turns him on.

You’re nowhere to be found, escaped through the window of the room you were stationed in – it was his mistake, assigning you a place from which you could jump so easily. Next time, he will cuff you to his bedpost, like a loyal palace dog lying on his legs. Next time, he will make sure to love you so eagerly that your legs won’t work for at least a few days.

He doesn’t even need his hunting dogs to catch you. Horangi offers his help, Tiger so eager to come out and play with a little princess, perhaps maul her a bit, showing the royal cunt what she deserves for disrespecting her emperor and his subjects – but oh no, this won’t do. König needs to discipline you himself, track your scent like the hound he is, and get you back to your wedding bed with your body in his teeth.

Woe on you, dumb little princess, as your emperor considers escape attempts the richest form of courting.

Following you through the forest near the castle, your footsteps are clear in the mud and dirt – a piece of your dress serves as a grinding light. Your scent, delicious sweetness, and fresh flower oils maid had infused you with made it laughably easier to find you. He can almost see the glimpses of your body running through the woods – god, he knew that he wanted you and was right about taking you away.

How can he resist a wedding gift from his bride who wants to play tag? He follows you like a madman, a dog, he sees through trees, trying to see where you could run. The deep golden brown of your dress almost made you look like a forest spirit standing in the depths of the woods – if it weren’t for König’s trained eye, he would rather mistake you for a tree. Or a particularly precious deer.

He licks his lips, a wolf approaching the bunny he was hunting for so long – you run away, still try to. These dumb skirts aren’t made for running away from your fiancee in a forest – you can barely walk in those, poor thing. You take a step back, panicking, squawking from fear, as he approaches you as slowly as possible.

Perhaps, if he gives you one more chance to run, it would make the chase even more precious.

He is used to hunting with his royal hounds, with a group of his closest friends by his side – war hawks helping hunt for prey, the animal snifters making the whole process laughably easy. He doesn’t have anyone for the company now.

Only you, him, and wilderness – and his adoring love for everything you do.

— Stop resisting, little princess.

You whimper, but your little annoyed expression makes him only harder. Hell, how he adores your frown, how much he wants to kiss your face right now – god knows he is holding himself back these days. Little princess doesn’t deserve to get her innocence taken on her back, legs open on the dirt of the royal forest – but sometimes you act like a good lashing, and some passionate mating is the only thing that would keep you in line.

He yells in your direction, hoping that even that dumb head of yours has some sense in it – the chase is fun, and he would continue it more until you’re completely unraveled under him, exhausted and defeated – but, oh, your silly desire to be free has led you to the edge of the lake. Dancing on the shaky, soft sands and warm mud of the pond, your clothes leave you with very small chances of getting out of here in one piece.

He doesn’t want to be the bringer of doom, but just one sleep, a nervous movement that you can’t control – and the little princess of his dreams will come flying in the dark waters. Even if your royal majesty knows how to swim, the heavy fabrics of your garments would be declared as your executioners.

You look so fragile like this – your skirt is lifted, showing your pretty ankles, as you’re trying to jump from stone to stone, as far away from him as possible. You’re scared, only reminding him more of the bunnies he used to hunt as a kid – and he is almost offended that you’d prefer that risk of drowning over getting in the hands of your husband again, but alas, princesses are usually not the smartest creatures on the planet.

— I’d rather die, Your Majesty.

You bite your lips and look at him, so stubborn and cute – the feelings in him rise, your arrogant expression making the thrill of the hint ever sweeter. God, he cannot control himself around you like this – you should stop trying to make yourself sweeter for him, he already wants to keep you chained in his bed and never let you go.

You’re so…

Ach.

His path of thought is stopped by the splash of water.

Dumb thing, you really decided to make the most of your words – like a cornered animal, you jumped in the lake, getting to the bottom almost immediately. Your dress is heavy and expensive, all the weight of the fabrics pinning you down in elaborate execution. Your emperor stands on the small beach, looking at the water circles going from where you fell…and then he jumps straight after you.

The last thing you remembered before the world went dark was the scream of a man who, for the first time in his life, had experienced genuine fear.

*** You wake up warm – and naked.

No wet clothes, no heavy dress lingering on your skin like a soft coffin.

You’re as naked as the day you were born, shivering despite the warmness of the room and the crackling of fire somewhere near you. You remember this room – a royal bedroom, quickly made as your quarters when you moved to this god-forsaken castle. Empire has some horribly extensive architecture, and this room, big, stony, and expelled of any decor, has only made you feel regret ever waking up.

You wished to wake up in the cold embrace of your Princess – but you open your eyes and see this room over and over again. Why couldn’t death come sooner?

— It was incredibly stupid even for you, little princess.

König sits on the edge of the bed. A future husband shouldn’t sit like this, resembling a servant who is scared for the health of his misstress. His eyes are filled with cold fury and other emotions that you can’t quite grasp – you don’t want to look at his face too much as even the mere glimpse is making you uncomfortable. God knows you are not in the mood for trying to talk to your captor.

God knows he doesn’t care about your wishes.

— If you can only provide me freedom in case of my death…

— You will not be free after your death.

You sigh, shocked – your brain isn’t nearly ready for this information when you just almost died. You shift in your bed, trying to pretend that you accidentally fell asleep – but the emperor pushes his hand on your cheek, warm fingers lingering on the cold skin. You sigh quietly, sealing his warmth.

You fight the desire to nuzzle in his palm like an obedient little pet.

— It’s not for you to decide, Your Majesty. I should be allowed to die on my own accord.

— I'm entitled to your life, my bride. Don’t make me remind you of this, ja?

— I would rather…

— I can deliver death to you, little one. In a verdammt heartbeat.

His hand goes from a warm presence on your cheek to an angry squeeze of your neck – you cough when he continues to shut your breath, fluttering of your neck in his grasp only makes your defeat even sweeter. König has you right where he wants it – under him, holding firmly in his grasp like some exotic bird he picked up from his travels.

Lack of air makes you dizzy – as ironic as it sounds, you feel airheaded, hands clinging to his massive palm in a poor attempt to make him let you go. You whimper, you cry, you feel death all too soon – you want to die, of course, maybe, willingly meeting in hell with the royalty you had sworn to serve, but you don’t want to be killed. Tears run down your cheeks when you finally see the other side of him – out of control, angry, worse even than the conqueror you saw when you first met.

You feel replaceable and small – he squeezes your throat like you aren’t his bride like you don’t mean anything to him, and, yes, it makes you feel hurt. Vulnerable as ever, your manicured nails have zero power over him – he only laughs at your helpless expression. For a second, it makes you think this is it – the last thing you would ever see is the cold anger in the eyes of your emperor.

When your vision finally got blurry enough so you could not see anything anymore, König softly lowered his face closer to you, lifting the bottom part of his weird, strange hood. Smothering you with his lips, delivering the air you were craving for – if only to make himself feel even more in control. You’re lightheaded and a bit dumb, still, your mind is too delirious to actually understand anything that is happening around you.

His lips are warm and dry, you steal air from his lungs with each second – you feel the energy feeling you up again, eyes are finally set enough to see at least some part of his face. Chiseled chin, covered in scars, tanned skin – you’re surprised that he is not as pale as you thought he must be, with his love for the masks.

His veins are dark and rotten – you don’t understand how he can survive with his blood looking like this, but the dark tendrils of his body almost make him more of a curiosity than an actual human being. It’s only his lips that are still holding you in realms of the living. You don’t want to think of the implications and gossip you heard from some servants that were allowed to go out – allowed to witness the growth of the empire that was soon to eat you all.

König finally lets go of your mouth when you start falling asleep again. You don’t allow him to simply cover his lips with his hood again though – your hands are heading to lend on his neck, fingers tracing the outlines of his veins.

A medical curiosity, this emperor – you squeeze the rot of his neck, and he moans like you just did something that he liked too much.

It’s only fitting that he has the body of a monster – for all he is done, you wouldn't be surprised if his head actually resembles the one of an octopus from silly books you were reading or a mess of dark tendrils, wiggling and swarming. Your delirious, oxygen-deprived mind still wants to touch him more, to satisfy your curiosity in all the more fitting ways. Maybe take your research a bit further down to see if he truly is a man down there.

But oh well, you saw his body before – although you never as much as paid attention to that detail. Did he change in a few days that passed? Does his veins start to spew out darkness because he is…

He crushed your hand in his, almost making you feel a crack in your dainty lady fingers. God forbid you feel like your hands are being torn apart.

— Never try to defy me like this again.

He spews the words with anger than would be fitting for the enemy – and he is, for you, but you were sure that he didn’t consider you one of them. The contrast with his soft actions earlier, you can feel tears collecting in your eyes as he slowly lets go of your hand.

Not knowing what to do, you roll to the side, burning desire to never see his face – or lack thereof – ever again. Like an angry cat that doesn’t know how to stop biting, you feel like you’re going to cry again and again.

You whimper, trying to escape the haunting gaze of his eyes – and his face softens, if only for a bit. He presses his hand against your damp forehead, checking the temperature. You don’t want to forgive him just yet – for anything at this matter, but he is soft at this moment, and somehow, it is almost enough. Somehow, you almost feel like you can breathe again.

— I was so scared, little princess. I don’t like being scared.

You laugh dryly, your face is still deep in the pillow. You are trying to ignore the beast, but the beast decided that you’re his best option for a nice free snack. Beast decided to take off some of his clothes – you don’t see it, but you hear the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and you don’t want to even think how much it cost.

You try to cover your naked body with the silk sheets of your bed, but soft fabric only entices your desires in a way that can only be called sinful. You remember the sensation of his tongue between your legs, your desire to simply run out of your skin because of how good it felt – each stroke made you strive further and further away from your duties. Like a good little maid you are, a perfect lady in waiting, waiting for her demise, you have to ignore all the mortal pleasures.

If you want the royal family to truly forgive you in their graves, you would have to join them. Perhaps, you gave up on drowning too fast.

— It wasn’t my intention.

He shifts, the bed is too small for someone like him. You feel his legs, clothed, thank god, touching your naked thighs – and you immediately stir to the further side. You keep your arms and legs in check, getting into a small ball of limbs as you’re trying to comfort yourself without his touch. You don’t want to admit it, but König is warm, warmer than you thought he had the right to be, and you’re freezing. The phantom feeling of cold water on your skin is making you shiver.

— What were your intentions then?

If the emperor knows about manners and how a fiancee should behave around his bride that he didn’t even consummate the marriage, he is ignoring that knowledge. Large hands pinning you to his chest, warm and firm – to your utter dread, he took off the armor plates and even the simple shirt under it, making you helplessly squish your cheek against his muscles. He smells like a man, and you never knew you’d feel that smell in your life.

You don’t hate it.

— You killed by parents, Your Majesty.

He only laughs, his hand goes to stroke your back. This is a contrast with his coldness before – he is soft and warm with you, and you hate that you don’t hate it. Gigantic palm goes to settle between your shoulder blades and you simply sigh, trying to get used to his touches. You don’t want to, but a good servant should adapt to everything, so you do just that. Adapting, deforming, melding yourself in something you never knew you even could be.

Your head hurts, and you whimper when his gentle massage relaxes your sore muscles. You hate his gentleness, you hate his firmness.

You want him to let you go, but you don’t even know where you would go.

— Your parents, little princess? Really?

There is a vile mockery in his voice, and you immediately remember who this man is. Not some devoted lover and slightly obsessive romanticist – he is dangerous, horrible, he is the conqueror of your country. You may not have warm feelings about the royal family, but he doesn’t know this – his laugh and mockery of your “family” must be real. It has to be, or else you’re going to die after your deceiving has been opened.

He pushes you even closer to him, and you whimper like a dumb little dog without any means of stopping him from touching you. There is some freedom from being exposed like this, but you still don’t like it. Still feel like he is going to murder you, given the reason.

— If anything, my men did it. That dog you called a father did not deserve my sword.

Anger fills your whole body – not because you were particularly close with the king, but because König is parading his mockery of your supposed family. He hugs you with hands that are covered in blood, no matter if he is just the one to give orders.

You try to get out of his grasp, but apathy fills you. What’s the point if the royal family is dead? What’s the point if you aren’t even the real princess.

— You will not call my father…

He makes you shut your mouth when he kisses your head. Sweet and soft, you do not understand his intentions. If anything, it feels like yet another mockery.

— I will call him like I want, meine Liebe. And you will still be mine.

— I won’t just take it, Your Majesty.

He laughs again. You feel sick.

— With our wedding tomorrow, little flower, you will have to take it. Not the last thing you’ll take on that day, little princess.

You feel like you are going to be sick.

König kisses you again, forcing you to sleep in his hands.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert

787 notes · View notes

penkura · 7 months ago

Text

last forever [6/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: This got away from me, it's over 6k words, I'm so sorry. But, here's Robin and a bit of development between our lovely couple, I suppose. I do love Zoro, I promise.

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5]

“Looks like we've shaken them.”

A round of whines from your crewmates is heard, making you smile slightly.

“You guys should be happy.”

Another whine, this time making you giggle while Zoro stares at everyone else.

“Stop that. What's wrong with you all?”

“I miss her!!”

Leaving Alabasta the way you did, barely able to say goodbye to Vivi and Karoo, with her decision to stay in the kingdom rather than join you all at sea, it was rough. You missed her greatly too, but understood her choice and accepted it. You still had Nami, at the very least it wasn't just you and a bunch of boys.

“If you wanted her to stay, you should've taken her by force!”

Hearing the insults everyone throws towards Zoro makes you laugh, even as he looks up at you on the upper deck in annoyance. You wave with a smile still on your face before he looks away. Strangely, things haven't changed much between you since he told you nothing romantic would be happening. Sometimes you feel an ache in your chest when you look at him, thinking about it, but you've come to accept Zoro probably would never take back what he said or try to court you. Once you had some kind of response from your parents, you two would sign your annulment papers and move on, living as crewmates instead of faking being husband and wife for your safety.

“I do agree with Zoro, you guys,” your smile softens as everyone looks up at you in surprise, “I love Vivi too, but if we wanted her to come along, we should've just kidnapped her.”

“[Y/N]!”

“Of course, that would've made us worse criminals,” jumping down from the upper deck, you stand beside Zoro with your arms crossed, “so it's better we let Vivi stay like she decided to. We'll see her again.”

While the rest of the crew agrees with you, Zoro is surprised you're being so agreeable with him after your discussion the other night.

Well ‘discussion’ is putting it lightly and in more positive terms. Sanji confronted him the next morning and mentioned how you'd ended up in tears over what Zoro said to you, making your temporary husband feel bad for a bit. He hadn't meant to make you cry, he was just telling you the truth. Romance was the farthest thing from his mind, it shouldn't even be in yours right now. There are too many other things to worry about, your goals and helping Luffy become King of the Pirates were the main ones. Helping everyone else with theirs was secondary, romance or anything like that was so far out of his mind, he never thought of it being a thing he'd have to worry about.

When he looks at you, all you do is smile, before Zoro shakes his head to move on and get those thoughts that you're still upset out of his head. You probably are, but it's not something to worry about right now.

“Looks like we finally escaped the firing squad.”

“Yeah, finally.”

“Excellent work, swordsman.”

The newest voice makes you all freeze in shock before everyone starts to freak out. Your hand is on your sword but Zoro is in front of you before anything happens, the rest of your crew moving into position against the dark haired woman on board. You barely recognize her as Crocodile's partner Ms. All Sunday, and you're curious about her reasons for being on your ship.

While Sanji swoons over her, Nami and Chopper start to hide behind you behind Zoro, Usopp is shouting warnings, and Luffy is shouting questions, Nico Robin does little more than smile, before saying she wants to join the crew, giving her reason being that Luffy saved her life back in Alabasta.

“I was determined to die, and you saved my life. That's your crime. So I decided I would join you.”

“Well,” Luffy nods and crosses his arms, “Guess it can't be helped. Welcome aboard!”

“Luffy!!”

The next little while is spent with everyone quickly changing their minds about Robin, for the most part. Usopp interrogates her but still believes her to be dangerous, until she pulls a trick with her Devil Fruit powers making him, Luffy, and Chopper burst out laughing. Sanji is smitten simply due to her being a woman, and Robin handing over a bag of jewels to Nami has them in each other's good graces.

Zoro intends to hold out, he's not going to trust her so easily when she was out to get you all until just a few minutes ago. He halfway expects you to do the same, though he doesn't expect the next exchange between you and Luffy a few moments later, once everyone has settled and you're able to pull your captain aside.

“Luffy,” you stay quiet, only he and Zoro can really hear you while Sanji continues to fawn over Robin as Usopp and Chopper ask her to show more of her powers, “Do you really trust her? I mean…she did work with Crocodile.”

Luffy gives you a bright grin and nod, which you return slightly. “Yeah, it's fine! She's not a bad person! You can tell too, can't you?”

“Mm.” You nod, deciding to trust in Luffy and his decision. You climb up on the railing beside him, taking the extra fishing rod to help him get something for dinner. “I'll trust you then, Luffy.”

“Great! Now let's get something good for Sanji to cook for dinner!”

“Haha, right.”

No, you don't miss how Zoro doesn't say anything, instead turning away from you and Luffy, avoiding Robin as she attempts to speak to him before looking at Luffy and asking if he'd gotten any bites yet. She was trying to fit in with you all, Luffy trusted her and she seemed to trust him. You're willing to give her a chance, even if Zoro isn't.

You're sure there's going to be a discussion about this later, and you definitely aren't looking forward to it.

+!+

“You can't be serious that you trust her.”

“Zoro,” you sigh and shake your head, rubbing your forehead a bit. Your head is starting to ache at the thought of a possible argument, “I didn't say I trust her.”

“Oh, and what's your reasoning for not being skeptical? She was our enemy not even three days ago!”

“I get that…but it sounds like she trusts Luffy.”

Zoro sighs heavily and shakes his head at you this time. He's not sure what to do with you, he doesn't want to fight with you about this, but it seems to be the way it's going to go.

He just doesn't trust Robin and doesn't get why you, who seemed to have worse trust issues than he did, ever would.

“And when she betrays us?”

“She won't, Zoro.”

“You don't know that! She could be using Luffy saving her as an excuse to get information and take it to the government or another pirate crew!”

“Oh good lord,” You're nearly glaring at Zoro while he almost snarls at you over the situation, “you are the most untrusting, stubborn man I've ever met! I don't trust her yet, who I trust is Luffy!”

“Luffy doesn't know what he's doing with her! She said something she knew he'd like to hear, she's not safe!”

“Luffy is our captain!” You didn't know your voice could get this loud, nor did you think Zoro's ever would. The rest of the crew must be getting one hell of a show if they could hear you from the storeroom right now. Though, if they could, you're certain Sanji would have run in to defend you and Robin by now.

“What does that have to do with this?!”

“He makes the decisions! If he thinks Robin is safe, I'll trust Luffy!”

“You're being as much of an idiot as our captain is!”

No, he doesn't really mean it, but Zoro wants to get his point across. You should be cautious, wary of this new person who, yes, was your enemy just a few days ago. You get that, you really do, but if Luffy thinks she's a good person, then…

“Yeah, sure! I'm an idiot because I trust our captain's choice!”

“Yes you are!”

“And you're a stubborn, untrusting dumbass!”

Well you've never called him such a name before, and that's more surprising to Zoro than anything that's happened today. You've both said too many things, probably things you don't mean, but it's enough now that he's done with it all. Done with yelling or trying to talk to you about it. He knows you won't listen, you'll both just end up trading insults and he doesn't want that anymore than you do.

So instead, Zoro pushes past you to leave, stopping briefly for one more thing.

“I want those papers later. We don't need to wait on your parents anymore.”

Zoro doesn't let you respond before he's heading back up the stairs, Luffy calling him for something that he's more than willing to do if it means being away from you for now.

You, however, do feel bad for the names you called him, and wish you had stopped him quickly enough to apologize. Had you been able to properly get your words out, maybe Zoro would have listened instead of fighting with you about Robin's recruitment. Instead you both let your emotions take over, said things you didn't mean, and now he was wanting the annulment papers.

Way to go, [Y/N]. You're getting an annulment and probably losing your closest friend.

+!+

Robin finds you with the logbook a couple days later, while everyone else is off the ship checking out the latest island you've docked at. She's not that surprised that you're the one who's keeping track of your adventure, you just seemed like the right person to write out everything that happened. If it wasn't you, she would've expected Nami to be keeping track.

“Anything interesting to record, Miss Logkeep?”

Humming a bit, you nod and finish the sentence you were writing, leaning back as Robin sits across from you. You're still recording all the events of Alabasta, trying to find the words to put everyone's perspective into the log appropriately. Making sure you had all the information meant having to speak with everyone, and with you and Zoro at odds for the moment, it felt like somethings were missing, and you likely weren't going to get anything from him until you two made up somehow.

You haven't taken your annulment papers to him, he hasn't asked again since your argument. Honestly you hope he's forgotten and will let things be until you hear from your parents or he changes his mind entirely. Maybe it's useless to hope for that, but until he asked for them again, you're going to hold onto that hope.

“Yeah, trying to finish Alabasta but…”

“Need someone else's side?”

“Mm…” You nod again, and Robin gives you a smile.

She had heard the argument you and Zoro had, so she knew very well that you two weren't really speaking. Even though it was due to her presence, she didn't say anything to let on that she knew, instead deciding to keep that to herself to see where things went with the two of you. It sounded like you were extremely close, and she'd like to see what your relationship with Zoro really was like.

“Forgive me if I'm prying, but are you and the swordsman close?”

You bite your lip a bit, wondering if you really should trust her with such information. It's not like you have to reveal your temporary marriage to Robin, Zoro would likely demand the papers again and actually sign them this time if you did so. After a moment of back and forth with yourself, you sigh and nod, closing the log with your bookmark in place.

“Yeah, we traveled together before we met Luffy. About eighteen months, I think.”

While you start to relay your story of how you met Zoro, met Luffy, and came to suddenly be a pirate, Robin just smiles and listens to you. Though you and Zoro aren't speaking much right now, you seem happy to be talking about him, like there's something there that even Robin is missing. She's not sure yet, if you have feelings for him, but the smile on your face and the slight blush you seem to have tells her she's on the right track.

“He's saved me from drowning, you know.”

“Has he now?”

You nod again, still smiling. “Not since before we joined Luffy, but a few times. My parents didn't teach me how to swim, Zoro's tried a few times,” you laugh and look at Robin, “I'm not very good!”

Robin laughs with you and gives you a smile. “Sounds like you really like him.”

She has you figured out, Robin thinks, while you blush a little and smile slightly before nodding. You simply have a crush on Zoro, and it seems he doesn't reciprocate it right now. That might change, because she has seen how protective of you Zoro is, having witnessed it first hand when she showed herself on Merry and he was in front of you almost instantly. Although she doesn't yet know all the details of your relationship, she's keen to see what happens.

When Sanji calls you all for dinner, Robin watches you and Zoro. You may not be talking to each other, but you still stay close, seated by each other without much thought, though you don't say anything to Zoro nor does he to you.

Robin knows you two will make up somehow, eventually. It seems as though you've been through far too much together to let one fight come between you.

And if you all do make it to the sky island, there might be a decent chance of seeing how well you two work together in battle.

+!+

“Come on, it's not water.”

You stare at Zoro from the Merry's deck, unsure if you believe him enough to jump down and join your crew. Finally arriving at Skypiea was a weight off and on your shoulders, with how thin the air was you felt like you couldn't breathe at first. Once you were used to that, you thought you were away from the water enough that you didn't need to worry about drowning, until watching Usopp nearly drown to death in the endless cloud sea.

Even with seeing Luffy, Chopper, and Robin freely walk through the clouds without any effects, you still weren't sure about it. Of course, you had no real fear of the water, you'd be a terrible pirate if you did.

However, knowing your inability to swim, you try to be careful on the ship, and not knowing how the Sky Island was, you were more worried than anything, even with Zoro trying to coax you off the ship and say you'd be safe.

You two have barely spoken since your argument about Robin joining the crew, so seeing him try to help you is a surprise. You're both stubborn but Zoro more so than you, which is what led to you spending more time with Robin and getting to know her, trusting her and knowing that she's no longer a threat.

Zoro's not at all impressed with you and how you've avoided speaking to him lately, but leaving you on the ship was not happening in his mind, not when everyone else had left and others were even calling for you. Luffy shouting for you to hurry up, Nami promising it was safe and you wouldn't drown, and even Sanji calling for you and saying he'd found something for you (likely the same flower you'd seen him give Nami and Robin, but it was a sweet gesture).

After another moment watching you debate, Zoro sighs and sticks a hand out to you, making you tilt your head.

“I won't let you fall. You know that.”

He's right, so you finally decide to go with your friends. Stepping onto and jumping off the railing with your shoes in one hand, the other grabbing Zoro's so he pulls you to him and keeps you from hitting the ground immediately, his other arm around your waist to help with that.

“Told ya.” Zoro sets you down and lets go of you once he sees you're stable, turning to follow after the rest of the crew before you grab his arm and stop him. “What?”

“I’m…sorry, thank you.”

“The hell you sorry about?”

“Not talking to you, calling you a dumbass, and fighting with you about Robin. I…we can…sign the papers later…”

Oh, that's what it was. Zoro wondered for a few days why you hadn't said anything to him about your marriage or your fight, he thought you'd just bring the papers to him later and say you wanted the annulment, not worrying about whatever your parents may think. He would've signed them if you did, but hearing the way you spoke just now, the slightest bit of concern and maybe sadness in your voice, it makes him shake his head in response.

“No, just…just leave it alone for now,” Zoro sighs but places his hand on your shoulder, moving you to walk in front of him, “Let's just join the others.”

Nodding, you don't miss how Zoro slightly squeezes your shoulder, before moving to keep his hand on your back and guide you, likely so you knew he wasn't letting you go so you wouldn't fall. It's a strange but kind gesture, even after he'd told you that he didn't have feelings for you and you two weren't going to be a couple.

Part of you wonders if he's lying, whether to you or himself, you're not sure yet though.

+!+

With all the trouble that Skypiea has brought you all, a night of rest and drinking was greatly needed, in your opinion. You'd all split off the next day to search for the city of gold and make your way to the end of sky island, but for now, you'll indulge in some drinks and laughs with your friends.

While he's still busy making food and handing it out, Sanji does, at one point, notice you grab a couple drinks and almost run back over to Zoro to give him one, before you go back to Nami and Robin nearby. How strange you two still are, in his eyes. You fight to the point of silent treatment, then start speaking again just earlier that day, and you're back to your usual self, bringing the mosshead things whether he asks or not. You're far too kind to Zoro, he doesn't deserve you, even though Sanji knows and understands the two of you aren't together. You do too much for him with nothing in return.

Although, rarely, Sanji has noticed that sometimes, it's Zoro who brings things to you in return. You've asked for a book once, something to drink a few times, and more recently had voiced your want for a snack, and were surprised by it a bit later when Sanji brought it to you.

“I…didn't even come ask you yet.”

Sanji shakes his head, scowling slightly before saying “Mosshead came and told me you wanted something to eat. Said I should just bring it right to you.”

You're surprised, mostly because you and Zoro haven't been speaking since your argument the other day.

“I…see…”

The blond knows of your fight, you'd gone to him shortly after and maybe you cried a little while telling him everything, but Sanji's of the belief you two must've made up if Zoro came and asked him to bring you something.

“Guess you guys made up then.”

“No…” this time you shake your head, accepting the small plate of food from Sanji with a slight smile, “We haven't…but this was sweet of him.”

Sanji was surprised at that, but now, he's more annoyed than anything. While you talk and laugh with Nami and Robin, Zoro stays where you left him, every now and then, Sanji catches him watching you. He's probably drunk, that's the only reason Sanji can think of to explain the look Zoro has on his face. It's something soft and almost faraway, like he's thinking too much about something. It only stops when you look over and smile at him, like you had back in Cocoyashi Village, making Zoro look away quickly and down the last of his drink.

There's something there, Sanji knows there is.

He's just not sure what it is yet.

+!+

Robin fully believes she knows what it is between you and Zoro, after watching you two the next day. You'd gone with her to search for the city of gold, Zoro not thinking that was a smart idea but you convinced him you'd be fine and he relented. He didn't want to have another argument leading into a silent treatment event happen. Seeing you without Zoro around, you seemed extremely interested in whatever history Robin told you. You chose to tell Robin about your situation with your family, explaining up to your meeting Zoro and leaving off your current marriage to him. You'd tell her one day, maybe once you'd come to know her more and trust her fully. Robin, though, knows there's something missing from your story. She can see it in your eyes, but she can't see exactly what it is.

What she does see happens when Eneru is nearly about to electrocute the five of you standing before him, Nami hiding behind a bit of debris. Once again Zoro has placed you behind him, and Robin can hear him quietly telling you to go to Nami, which you deny.

“I'm not going anywhere, I'm going to help you.”

Zoro's trying so hard to get you to safety that he nearly misses Eneru targeting Robin, only really noticing when you'd pushed away from him and ran to her, only to be hit with Eneru's attack after you'd shoved her out of the way.

“[Y/N]!!”

Robin's by your side and making sure you're still breathing, relief washing over her when she sees you've just been knocked out. She's more surprised at your actions and how Zoro's sending the worst glare she's ever seen towards Eneru, placing himself between the three of you.

“Don't you dare touch her again.”

“She's likely dead now so that won't be a problem.”

Eneru’s comment nearly pushes Zoro over the edge before Robin calls him.

“Swordsman, calm down! She's still breathing!”

“Doesn't matter! He shouldn't…she shouldn't have…”

Watching Zoro fight for his words and grip his swords tighter, it makes Robin realize she just might be right.

She believes it more so when you all have defeated Eneru, and are recuperating afterwards during a celebration with the Skypieans and Shandorians. Zoro had stayed by your side most of the time, constantly checking to make sure you were alright despite his injuries being worse. You barely seemed to notice, but Robin definitely did. Eventually she sees the same thing Sanji had the night before. You'd gone off with Nami once again, but also Luffy, Chopper, and Aisa this time, the five of you playing some game the little Shandorian girl had come up with, and Robin sees Zoro watching you all, but mostly you. She sees his eyes soften just a bit, the slightest smile on his face while he watches you laugh, especially when Luffy tosses Aisa to you and you catch her, making her squeal in laughter as well. This was the most peaceful she'd seen Zoro yet, and it was all because of you it seems.

How sweet.

You two are the last to wake the next morning, before your abrupt departure, and Robin is sure her hunch is right seeing you snuggled up close to Zoro with one of his arms around you before Sanji kicks Zoro to wake him up. Of course this causes an argument as soon as Zoro is up and in Sanji's face, you barely awake and rubbing your eyes to figure out what's happening.

“What the hell, I was sleeping.”

“You and the swordsman were,” Robin starts to smile while your eyes widen and you feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks, “but we need to get going soon.”

“R-Right… did um… anyone–”

“Yeah you were really cozy with Zoro all night.” Nami grins and you have to hide your face in your hands, Zoro and Sanji still shouting at each other while Usopp, Luffy, and Chopper are gathering their things like it's a game.

Once you all do take off, as you're running to leave, you nearly trip over the ground to the point Zoro grabs you like the sack of gold everyone has and throws you over his shoulder.

“Wait, Zoro!! Put me down!!” You pound on his back a bit before he adjusts you over his shoulder better.

“Not if you're gonna trip like that!”

You don't even bother to fight him and just hang there the rest of the way to Merry, Zoro finally putting you down once you all get there, Robin hears the quietest apology from him while you shake your head and move to help get everything ready to go.

They're very interesting, those two…maybe he does actually like her.

+!+

Landing back in the sea did not go as planned for you. Your air filled octopus balloon friend let you down easily for the most part, until he suddenly ran out of air and the Merry was being quickly dropped into the water. You grabbed as tightly to the railing as you could while everyone else did the same, or grabbed each other in the case of Luffy, Usopp and Chopper, and Sanji not at all complaining as Nami latched onto him. The splash down flooded the deck with water, but once it drained enough, Merry settled and you were back as close to solid ground as possible.

“Everyone good?!” Luffy shouts a bit, Usopp and Chopper still holding onto him while most everyone states they're fine. He furrows his brow when he doesn't hear your voice or see you. “Where's [Y/N]?”

“Did she get swept out when the water drained?!” Nami feels panic seep into her bones while she looks for you in the water.

The second Nami's question reaches him, Zoro is in the water on the side of the ship you'd been on, making what felt like the millionth rescue from water he'd done in his life, most of them being for you due to your inability to swim. The first time it happened you'd been pushed in by one of your bounty targets before Zoro struck them down, quick enough that he was able to reach in and pull you out by your shirt collar like a cat by the scruff of its neck while you flailed about. You didn't eat a Devil Fruit, your parents simply never taught you to swim. Your brother attempted to, but only for so long before your parents heard and barred you from doing so. A lady didn't need to know how to swim, your mother tried to reason with you.

Zoro's able to reach you in time before you get too far down in the sea, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you upwards, surfacing not even a minute after he'd jumped in, making you gasp for air and cling tightly to him, almost suffocating your constant savior while you spit up water from your lungs.

“Zoro's got [Y/N]!! Let the ladder down!”

You hated this, hated needing to be saved anytime you ended up in the water. It's become so much that you aren't sure if you really are crying while you grip onto Zoro, or if it's just water dripping down your face, despite how hard you're biting your lip and tightening your hold on him. It's not like you had a good excuse, not like those who had eaten Devil Fruits.

Zoro puts an arm around your shoulders and stops for just a second once he gets the both of you to the ladder before starting to climb up.

“Hey,” you almost miss him speaking to you, even once he starts trying to soothe you by rubbing your back, “I've got you. You're all right.”

He's quiet while he speaks to you, whispering reassurances that all is well, you're okay, he's not going to let you go until you're on the deck again. You're alive, he's saved you again, kept you from drowning like he has Chopper and Luffy in the past. Like he always has.

Sometimes it feels like all you do is take and take and take from Zoro, from all of them. You wonder sometimes if your parents were right, when they said you were nothing more than a greedy child still, always taking but never giving back. Despite the fact you do your fair share on the ship, in battles, it feels like you shouldn't be here.

Once you're back on the deck, you still don't let go of Zoro, even when he tells you to at least loosen your grip before you choke him to death. You do, at the very least, release your grip on his shoulders and instead hide your face in his shirt, trying to keep your worried crewmates from realizing you are crying after all. Zoro simply holds your head in place, even with Luffy and Usopp trying to check you over while Chopper runs to get his bag and help you. Sanji is quickly throwing his suit jacket around you and trying to get Luffy and Usopp away so they don't cause you more distress, while Robin suggests bringing you to your bed, and Nami's run off to your room to get dry, warm clothes for you. Despite the slight distrust he still feels for Robin, Zoro nods at her suggestion, bringing Sanji's jacket around you a bit more before lifting you up in his arms, knowing you weren't letting him go anytime soon. You don't let go, not even for a second, until you're in your room and Zoro has laid you on your bed, telling you to wait for Chopper to get there while he tries to leave and change into dry clothes himself. He's stopped only by you grabbing his wrist, wanting him to stay, before Zoro promises he'll come right back. You only let go after that, giving a slight nod when he turns to leave you to change clothes yourself.

“Zoro?”

He's almost out of the room before you stop him, making him look over his shoulder to you.

“Thank you…again.”

He shakes his head, telling you not to mention it.

“I'll always save you if you need it, wife.”

+!+

You're struck with a nasty fever and congested cough the next day, blaming it on the unexpected swim you'd taken and the slightly colder area you were in. Chopper's given you all the medicine you can take for now, to try and bring your fever down, the rest was up to your own body to fight it off. Your crewmates were kind enough to take turns watching you, as you all had done when Nami was ill before you brought Chopper on board. She and Zoro are the ones to spend the most time watching you; Luffy tries to cheer you up with jokes, Usopp tells you more of his tall tales, Robin has taken to reading to you from a book she'd let you borrow, Sanji is mostly quiet so you can sleep, and Chopper is in and out checking on you and seeing if your fever has reduced any. Nami is almost as quiet as Sanji, working on a map while you rest.

Then Zoro.

He continues to reassure you that everything is OK, not constantly while he's there but he can tell, when you trail off in your sentences and look away from him, that you feel bad about something. He's not sure what, but he tells you everything is alright, you're alive and you made it out of a fight against a false god and a near drowning.

“‘M sorry you have to watch me…instead of doing your training.”

If he'd been any closer to sleep, Zoro would've missed what you said entirely. Luckily for you, he's awake enough to raise an eyebrow and shake his head.

“Don't worry about it. It's what crewmates do.”

It's what a husband does too…

“I feel like all I do is take from you…”

You don't look at him, finding your ceiling more interesting as you look over the wood pattern to avoid his eyes. You know he'll try to reassure you again, Zoro was good at that, despite his indifference to your pretend marriage. He'd never made you feel like you were a burden or less than, even if you really did mostly take and rarely give in return.

Zoro's not even sure why he always tries to make you realize things are okay, that you haven't done anything wrong. He knows about your parents acting like you should be seen and not heard, such a crappy thing to do to your own child in his opinion. Your parents were well off, they’d give to you and your brother constantly, then make you feel like you were selfish for not returning the “favor” by marrying who they chose for you. They really seemed to embody the “not every parent deserves a child” belief.

Thank God you had someone who cared for you though.

Before even saying a word in response, Zoro quietly takes hold of your free hand, letting you lace your fingers with his and making you look him in the eye again.

“Take all you want, I'll give you what I can. You can return it another time, all right?”

You want to cry, as Zoro strokes your hand with his thumb, and you nod a bit, swallowing down the tears before they can start. The things he does to you, even after telling you he isn’t here for romance. The way he acts, the way he treats you, it really makes you want to believe he’s lying to himself, lying to you to keep up his image. It gives you the slightest bit of hope that things could change one day.

“O-okay…”

We're not a couple…I don't know why you put up with me…

Once your fever is past, you're back to your normal routine of helping out wherever possible on the ship, spending your free time in the kitchen with Sanji, helping Nami with a map, or staying near Zoro while he goes back to training. He doesn't mind if you quietly sit near him, whatever book you've borrowed from Robin in your lap. It feels almost domestic to him, and Zoro has to brush that thought away quickly, lest he start fantasizing about keeping you as his wife. He stops any random thoughts of you two sharing a bed permanently, of taking you out somewhere on the next island for a date, or convincing you to stay up with him during his night watch, just to talk about your relationship and future. No, those thoughts can't be entertained, not now at least, he can't be distracted by such frivolous feelings like wanting to hold your hand all of sudden, or expecting a good morning hug or whatever. Romance isn't in his plans, it's not on his radar. You being his wife isn't supposed to be permanent.

Still though, a thought lingers despite his pushing the others out, when Zoro catches you dozing off in the corner, still fatigued from your body fighting off that fever.

Would it really be so bad to stay married to her?

He's not sure, even as he sets his weight back in place, wiping away any sweat he can and putting on a shirt before settling himself next to you, gently leaning you against him as you sleep. You stir a bit but he quickly quiets you.

“Just me. Go back to sleep.”

“Mm…’kay…”

Despite the scent of steel and sweat, you snuggle closer to Zoro, him wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you still. He lays his head on top of yours, closing his eyes and letting those thoughts come back, not stopping a single one this time.

Thoughts of a possible future where you two stay married and act like it, where you treat each other as husband and wife, where you've both reached your goals, where you're settled down somewhere safe enough to have a child or two perhaps.

Thoughts Zoro never once imagined entertaining, but now they take over his dreams to the point he's started changing his mind.

Maybe not so bad.

#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #reader insert #last forever #roronoa zoro x reader

216 notes · View notes

lurkingteapot · 2 months ago

Text

one thing I really, really missed from the episode vs the novel (and which we might still get, idk, we'll see) is

in the novel, when Min comforts Q with the simple platitudes we use in these situations ("it's alright, nothing happened, it was just a nightmare")

Q has a moment of

but it did happen. it was real. it's the worst thing that ever happened to me. how can that ever be alright?

but even so he feels comforted and safe.

idk guys but it just hit me like a hammer when I read it, and I really hope we'll get some of that flavour on screen eventually.

#kidnap ep 5 #kidnap ch 5 #kidnap the novel #kidnap novel spoilers #kidnap the series #kidnap gmmtv #ลับ จ้าง รัก #ลับ-จ้าง-รัก #my nonsense #q

11 notes · View notes

pureconancommentary · 4 months ago

Text

As funny as his pose and that move is, and he successfully manages to escape, this is just another example of how freaking reckless Shinichi can be. And instead of just hearsay, his mom gets to see it happen right in front of her.

He could have hit so many pedestrians, or caused major accidents, and it's a miracle no cars t-boned them after the sudden rush into the intersection. If that were a real gun, she could have pulled the trigger from being startled. How did he even reach across and hit the gad pedal, he'd have been at least half a Conan length away from it in that first panel.

Like, he viewed his life as being in danger, so it makes sense that he'd do something crazy to escape. But this escape plan is prioritizing his possible survival (not even guaranteed, because again, forcing a car directly into what should have been at least 90% likely to cause a collision), he could have injured and possibly killed at least a handful of people. Literally, no thought put into the world around him, he acted purely on a 'well this should distract her for a few seconds' plan, and it was pretty stupid and shouldn't have worked were it not for the providence of Gosho's protag favouritism.

I, too, would want to scare the crap out of my child if his reaction to being put in a potentially dangerous situation is to pull that kind of maneuver. He should be grounded for a few years for how much danger he adds by acting without planning.

#ch 49 #vol 5 #Like. Really; if it /had/ been a BO member in this scenario #They're kidnapping him for unknown reasons but they do know who he is and are threatening him instead of killing him right away #This kind of stunt would make it more likely he's just going to get killed the next time they find him #They already picked him up from Ran and Kogoro; they could just go back and say he ran off and low key threaten them by hanging around #This is the 'he's compromised' situation he imagined could happen and he /should never have gone anywhere near his house/#Boy makes /so/ many bad calls for what he thinks is a confrontation; the Kudos going overboard to scare him feels justified

0 notes

dollgxtz · 3 months ago

Text

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.

541 notes · View notes