#kidnap ch 5 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollgxtz · 6 months ago

Text

His Watchful Eye Pt.9

Word Count: 22.4k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, possession, forced pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, tw if u have tokophobia, mentions of rape, murder, extortion, threats, manipulation, pet names like, kitten, sweetie, honey, Xavier appears, tw vomiting, flashbacks of blood and gore, nausea, kidnapping

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

AN: Hi all! This is of course on A03! I love this story so much! Each chapter is so fun to write!! The tension, the devastation. Its SO delicious!! So sorry for the late upload, I had a BUNCH of exams last week and a wedding to attend on the weekend so I couldn't just down and write. If I have u tagged here and u want to be removed from future tag lists just shoot me a dm! Enjoy my lovelies ! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

“Eat,” he said firmly, the command in his voice clear and sharp. “I won’t repeat myself.” You froze, your breath catching in your throat. “If you kill our baby,” Sylus continued, his voice low and deliberate, “I kill him. Pretty fair, wouldn't you agree?”

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.10

The towering glass building of the Hunter's Association stood like a beacon in the heart of the city, its sleek, modern architecture gleaming under the afternoon sun. The mirrored panels reflected the sprawling cityscape, a place Xavier once found familiar, even comforting. But now, as he trudged through the automatic doors, the cool blast of air conditioning hitting his face, it all felt foreign. His world had changed. The familiar sound of boots tapping on the pristine marble floors, the usual buzz of hunters and staff moving through the building, and the distant ring of telephones seemed like nothing more than a haze of noise.

His reflection caught in the glass of the lobby—he barely recognized the man staring back at him. His once well-kept appearance was gone, replaced by a man disheveled and weary. His clothes, wrinkled and stained from days on the road, clung awkwardly to his body, the fabric of his jacket creased and dusty. His hair, normally brushed neatly, now hung in messy, unkempt strands over his forehead, and the dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights and relentless mental strain.

He moved like a ghost through the lobby, ignoring the passing glances from the other hunters and staff who clearly noticed his haggard appearance. They didn’t stop him, though. They knew who he was—Xavier, one of the best hunters in the Hunters Association. An integral part of UNICORNS. He had earned his place here, had earned his own office on the upper floors. But despite his reputation, today he felt like a shell of the man he used to be.

His boots made a heavy thud with each step as he headed directly for the elevator. The metallic doors slid open with a soft chime, and he stepped inside, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him as the doors shut, sealing him away from the noise of the lobby. The elevator began its slow ascent, the soft hum of the machinery doing little to quiet his thoughts. His hand slipped into his jacket pocket, his fingers curling around the small, inconspicuous sim card. It was a simple object, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to him, it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

This is it, he thought. This is what might finally give me the answers I need. The answers I’m terrified to find.

The memory of the last few weeks gnawed at him. Even having escaped the N109 Zone the memories had been a blur of desperation, exhaustion, and haunting questions. Where are you? What happened to you? And why had Skye tried to kill him? The silence, the emptiness he felt without you, was unbearable. But what gnawed at him more than anything was the creeping dread in the back of his mind—the fear that he was already too late.

The elevator dinged softly as it reached his floor, snapping him from his thoughts. The doors slid open, revealing the long, pristine hallway of the upper offices. Xavier wasted no time, his legs moving mechanically as he headed straight for his office. The lights overhead flickered ever so slightly, casting long, sharp shadows across the floor as he walked, his pace quickening with every step.

But before he could reach the safety of his office, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“Xavier?”

He froze mid-step, his body tensing involuntarily. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. He could already picture her—bright-eyed, curious, and always full of questions.

Sure enough, when he turned, there she was—Tara. Her short brown hair, usually neatly styled, bounced slightly as she hurried toward him, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and concern. She was one of the few coworkers who always made a point of checking in on him, though at times, her bubbly personality felt overwhelming. Today was no exception.

“Xavier!” she called again, picking up her pace. “Oh my God, where have you been? We haven’t seen you in forever! You just disappeared, and everyone’s been asking about you, wondering if you were okay. I thought you might have left like—”

He raised a hand, cutting her off before she could finish. His voice was strained, and though he tried to keep it steady, there was an unmistakable edge of exhaustion in it. “Tara, I’m sorry. I really am. But I need to get to my office. I can’t explain anything right now.”

Tara’s face fell slightly, her eyes scanning his face, her brow furrowing as she took in his disheveled appearance. It was clear she wanted to press further, but something in his tone, or maybe the haunted look in his eyes, stopped her. She shifted awkwardly on her feet, biting her lower lip as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, filled with genuine concern. “I mean…you don’t look so good.”

Xavier forced a small, tight-lipped smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just…I just need some time.”

Before she could say anything more, he nodded to her and brushed past, his heart racing as he made his way down the hall. He could feel her eyes on him as he walked away, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when he was this close.

Finally, he reached the door to his office, his sanctuary. His hand trembled slightly as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The familiar scent of ink and printed paper greeted him, a scent that used to bring comfort but now felt cold, distant. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing him off from the world outside.

For a moment, he just stood there, leaning back against the door, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. The weight of the last few weeks, of everything he’d been through, came crashing down on him all at once. He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as he tried to steady himself. Focus, Xavier. Focus.

His eyes scanned the room—his desk, cluttered with papers and old case files, the soft leather chair in the corner, and the wide windows that let in far too much light. He needed darkness, quiet, space to think. Without hesitation, he moved toward the windows and drew the blinds shut, plunging the room into a muted, shadowy haze. The soft hum of the city outside was muffled now, replaced by the stillness of the office. He flicked off the overhead lights, leaving only the dim glow of his computer screen.

It was just him and the SIM card now.

He dropped into the chair behind his desk, his body sinking into the worn leather as he pulled the small chip from his pocket. It sat there on the desk in front of him, almost mocking him with its simplicity. How could something so small hold the answers to everything? How could it carry the weight of his hope and fear all at once?

His fingers trembled slightly as he picked it up, turning it over in his hand, his thumb brushing against the smooth surface. This is it, he reminded himself. This is how I find out what happened to her.

Xavier inserted the sim card into the slot on his computer, the holographic screen flickering to life above his head as the files began to load. His heart pounded in his chest, each second feeling like an eternity as he waited for the data to appear.

The room seemed to shrink around him, the air growing heavy as his eyes locked onto the screen. His breath hitched, his fingers tightening around the edge of the desk.

Please. Please let this tell me something. Let it lead me to her.

The files loaded slowly, the progress bar inching forward at an agonizingly slow pace. Each second felt like an eternity, the air in the room growing heavier as Xavier leaned closer to the screen, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers drummed impatiently against the edge of the desk, a nervous rhythm that barely kept his panic at bay. This has to work. This has to show me something—anything.

But when the files finally opened, the first thing he noticed was the dull red warning message flashing on the screen: FILE CORRUPTED.

Xavier froze.

He blinked, staring at the message as though it might change if he looked at it long enough. Then, with a shaky breath, he clicked on the first file, hoping against hope that the system had made a mistake. But the message was clear: Corrupted. Unreadable.

His stomach twisted as a wave of cold dread washed over him. No… No, this can’t be right. Not now. Not after everything.

He clicked on another file. Corrupted.

Then another. Corrupted.

And another. Corrupted.

His fingers moved faster, more frantically now, clicking through the list, trying to find anything that wasn’t destroyed. But the same message greeted him every time. The red text burned into his eyes, taunting him with every click. He felt like the ground was being pulled out from under him, the desperation clawing at his chest, making it harder to breathe.

How? His mind raced, scrambling for an explanation. How could this have happened?

His thoughts spiraled. Was the sim card programmed to destroy its contents once removed? The possibility made his blood run cold. He had been so careful, so sure that this card would give him the answers he needed. And now it was slipping through his fingers.

Xavier's hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles white as he pounded the desk in frustration. "No..." His voice was a harsh whisper, barely able to contain the anger bubbling up inside him. His vision blurred for a moment, the weight of everything crashing down on him in a wave of helplessness.

This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when I’m so close.

He could feel his pulse racing, his heart pounding in his chest, faster and faster as the panic settled deeper into his bones. His mouth was dry, and his breath came in shallow, uneven bursts as he tried to hold himself together. The room felt smaller, darker, like the walls were closing in around him. The light from the computer screen flickered against his face, casting shadows under his eyes, deepening the lines of exhaustion and frustration etched into his skin.

I can’t lose this. I can’t lose her.

The thoughts came unbidden, swirling in his mind like a storm. He had been so sure this card would lead him to you—that it would show him where you were, what had happened. He had imagined this moment so many times, but now, all that hope was unraveling, torn apart by a series of corrupted files. And it felt like his last chance was slipping away right in front of him.

No. No, I won’t let this happen.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, clicking open every file he could find, his breath catching in his throat each time the same corrupted message popped up. With each failed attempt, the panic inside him grew, his heart hammering wildly as frustration gave way to desperation.

His mind raced, grasping for a solution. There had to be something he could do—something to fix this. He wasn’t about to give up, not now, not when you were still out there, waiting for him to find you. His eyes darted to the screen, scanning for anything that could help, his mind reeling, searching for an answer through the haze of fear clouding his thoughts.

And then, a flicker of hope.

He remembered the program. A faint memory, tucked away in the back of his mind—a file recovery tool buried somewhere deep within his system. It wasn’t something he used often, but it was there. His heart skipped a beat, the sliver of hope cutting through the rising panic. Yes. That’s it.

Without hesitating, he pulled up the program, his fingers trembling slightly as he typed in the command to search for the corrupted files. The familiar blue loading screen appeared, and for a moment, Xavier felt the breath he had been holding slowly release. But it wasn’t over yet. He still had to wait. The program would take time to scan the files, to see if it could recover anything usable.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and each tick of the clock felt like another weight pressing down on his chest. He sat back in his chair, staring at the spinning loading icon on the screen, willing it to move faster, to show him something—anything that could give him the answers he so desperately needed.

His leg bounced under the desk, a nervous habit he hadn’t been able to shake for days now. The anxiety clawed at him, making it impossible to sit still. His mind was racing again, fear and hope warring inside him, a toxic mix that made his stomach churn.

What if this didn’t work? What if the files were too damaged to recover? What if—what if he never found out what happened to you?

Stop it. Don’t think like that. He gritted his teeth, trying to shove the doubts out of his mind. He couldn’t afford to lose hope now. He had come too far, and he couldn’t let himself break. Not yet.

The program beeped softly, breaking the silence of the room. Xavier leaned forward, his heart thudding against his ribs as the first of the recovered files appeared on the screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, his pulse racing in anticipation.

Please...let this work.

He clicked on the file, holding his breath as it opened, the screen flickering before finally stabilizing. His eyes scanned the first few lines of data, and for the first time in hours, a glimmer of hope sparked in his chest.

There it was. Not everything—far from it—but there was something. Something he could use.

His breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto the details flashing across the screen. The tension in his body didn’t ease, but the panic that had threatened to overtake him was starting to ebb, replaced by a grim determination.

The first recovered file blinked to life on Xavier’s screen, and for a moment, his heart slowed its frantic pace. This is it, he thought, leaning forward, eyes fixed on the video as the grainy footage loaded. The room was cloaked in shadow, his breath the only sound breaking the silence. His hands hovered over the keyboard, fingers still trembling slightly, half out of exhaustion and half from anticipation.

But as the video began to play, the tension in his body didn’t ease—it only deepened.

The screen flickered with the image of a familiar dimly lit, grimy basement. The walls were old, stained with mold and years of neglect. The camera was positioned at an angle, casting shadows that made the space look even more claustrophobic. But that wasn’t what made Xavier’s stomach twist. It wasn’t you in the video. His breath caught in his throat as the scene unfolded, confusion clouding his mind.

A girl—blonde, young, and panicked—was being dragged into the room by a shoddy-looking man. Her limbs flailed wildly, her voice sharp with terror and rage.

"Fuck you, Reese! Let go!" she screamed, her voice raw, the words tearing through the oppressive silence of the basement.

Xavier’s eyes narrowed, his pulse quickening as he watched the man—Reese, apparently—roughly shove her onto a dingy, stained bed in the corner. The blonde girl gasped as she hit the mattress, her breaths coming in panicked bursts, her chest heaving. Her face contorted in fury and fear as she glared at the man who stood a few feet away, shaking like a leaf, as though he was caught between shame and desperation.

Reese, the man responsible for dragging this girl down here, opened his mouth but struggled to speak. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice cracking with guilt and fear. His hands trembled as he backed away from the bed, eyes wide, like he didn’t know how he had ended up in this situation either.

Xavier’s mind raced, his thoughts scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing. He had heard the name Reese before. It had come up when he questioned the shoe clerks in the N109 Zone. He knew that you had been with Reese at some point—that much was clear. But this...this wasn’t you.

Who the hell was this girl? Why was she in the same basement?

Xavier clicked on the fast-forward button, his hand shaky as he tried to piece together what he was watching. The blonde girl, still hyperventilating, curled into herself on the bed, her hands gripping the fabric of her clothes as if she could disappear into the mattress. The fear on her face was palpable, and Xavier felt a sickening knot form in his stomach as he imagined what was going through her mind in those moments.

What's happening? His mind spun with questions, but there were no answers—not yet. He fast-forwarded again, his anxiety growing with each passing second. Days seemed to pass, the lighting in the basement changing subtly as time wore on. The girl’s resistance dulled, her movements slower, her body slumping as though she had lost the will to fight back.

And then they came back.

Xavier's breath hitched as Reese appeared once more, but this time he wasn’t alone. His heart dropped as he recognized the second figure—her. The cold, sharp-eyed woman with dark hair tied into a strict bun, dressed in business casual attire. Xavier had seen her before. He remembered her face clearly, down in that same basement when he had been searching for you, when she had tricked him and escaped before answering more of his questions. She was a predator in a sleek package, her eyes devoid of warmth or sympathy.

A traitor to her own gender.

The blonde girl jolted when she saw them, her fear reigniting, her voice cracking as she screamed. “No! Please! Leave me alone!” She scrambled to the head of the bed, pressing herself into the wall as if she could sink through it and escape.

The dark-haired woman didn’t flinch. Her voice was smooth, cold, clinical. “We’ll see if she’s a match, Reese. If she’s not…” She trailed off, inspecting her nails as though the girl’s fate was of no consequence to her. “…you can give her to Damien for...y’know.”

Xavier’s blood ran cold at her words. Damien? The name made his stomach churn with anger and disgust. His grip tightened on the edge of the desk, his knuckles white as he leaned in closer to the screen, his mind now spinning with dread. This was more than just a kidnapping—more than just a rescue mission. There was something deeper, something more sinister lurking beneath the surface of all this.

Reese mumbled something under his breath, barely audible over the girl’s terrified sobs. His hands shook as he backed away from the bed again, leaving the girl in the cold, uncaring grip of the woman with the dark hair. She stepped forward, cold and methodical, holding out a syringe as though it was just another day at the office.

The blonde girl screamed as they took a blood sample, the needle piercing her skin. Her eyes were wide, wild, filled with the horror of not understanding what was happening to her but knowing that it was something dark, something she couldn’t escape. Xavier’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding as he watched the scene unfold. The helplessness in the girl’s eyes echoed the same helplessness he felt now—watching, unable to intervene, unable to stop what was happening.

The video blurred again as Xavier fast-forwarded, skipping through more days, more moments of isolation and fear. The blonde girl’s spirit, once fiery and defiant, began to erode. By the time the dark-haired woman returned with Reese days later, her demeanor had changed entirely. She wasn’t fighting anymore. Instead, she lay curled on the bed, tears streaming down her face, silent sobs shaking her body.

The cold woman sighed, almost bored. “You’re useless to me. But hey, you’re a woman,” she said, her voice dripping with casual cruelty. “Maybe you can seduce Damien for your freedom.” The words hung in the air like poison, and the blonde girl let out a wretched scream, her body convulsing with panic as Reese grabbed her again, dragging her off the bed and toward the stairs.

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. What the hell is this? His mind was racing, the implications of what he was seeing burning through him like wildfire. This wasn’t just about you. This wasn’t just a random guy that you had gone with. This was part of something bigger, something darker than he had ever imagined.

And yet, even as the video ended—cutting off abruptly as Reese pulled the screaming girl up the stairs—one thought dominated his mind.

Where were you?

His hands shook as he closed the corrupted file, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. His mind spun with questions, but no answers came. Who was this girl? Was she still alive? Had Reese given her to Damien like they suggested? A dark chill crawled up Xavier’s spine. His thoughts twisted and darkened as he remembered the basement when he had first been there—when he had been searching for you.

Reese had been dead when I searched that basement.

A sudden, horrifying thought pierced through him like a dagger.

Did Reese let this 'Damien' hurt you?

His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, everything went still. The room, the air, the soft hum of the computer—it all faded into the background. A single thought rang in his mind, louder than anything else. Was Damien involved with what happened to you?

Xavier swallowed hard, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as the tension mounted inside him. His eyes darted back to the screen, scanning the list of recovered files with a sense of rising urgency. He had to find your video. He had to know what happened to you. His breath came quicker, more shallow as he clicked on the next file, praying that this time—this time—it would show him the truth.

Xavier’s hands moved frantically across the keyboard, clicking through file after file. Each video that played on the screen sent another wave of nausea crashing through him. Each one showed a different girl—each of them dragged into that same dingy basement by Reese. Their screams echoed in his ears, the fear in their eyes burning into his memory, but none of them were you.

His stomach churned violently as the helplessness clawed at his insides. He could barely keep his breathing steady, each breath shallow and strained. The flickering images on the screen felt like a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. He was so close, yet so far. With every corrupted file, every unfamiliar face, the weight of dread settled deeper into his bones. Where are you? His mind screamed, hands gripping the edges of his desk until his knuckles turned white.

He clicked on another file. Another girl. Not you.

His jaw clenched as he forced himself to click through the next video. Still not you.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart thudding in his chest like a war drum, each beat harder than the last. The urge to smash everything on his desk was almost unbearable, but he kept moving, his desperation growing with every passing second. Each wrong file felt like a stab to his gut. The girls all looked terrified—some bruised, some screaming, others had already given up—but it wasn’t you. His vision blurred for a moment, frustration and fear clouding his thoughts.

Then, he clicked the last file.

For a split second, he hesitated. His heart was in his throat, the weight of all his hopes and fears balancing on this one moment. Please. Please be her. The screen flickered, and then—your features came into view.

Xavier exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

It’s you.

The relief was so intense it nearly knocked the wind out of him. He felt his entire body sag forward, his muscles trembling as he sat frozen in his chair, staring at the screen. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like forever, but there you were, in the same filthy basement he’d seen in the other videos. But something was wrong. So very, very wrong.

You looked… worse for wear. Even through the grainy footage, it was clear you hadn’t been eating well—your face was more gaunt than he remembered, your cheeks hollow, and your body seemed frail, weaker than it ever should have been. Your hair, once well-kept, now hung in matted strands, clinging to your face as though it hadn’t been washed in days. Your eyes wide with shock. His heart broke at the sight, a heaviness settling into his chest that made it hard to breathe.

He could barely hold it together as he watched you struggle. There you were, the person he’d been so desperate to find, trapped in that godforsaken basement. His eyes stung, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He wanted to be there, to protect you, but he was stuck watching, helpless on the other side of a screen.

The camera trembled slightly as two figures came into view—Reese, and another man Xavier didn’t recognize. The stranger was larger, more menacing, and as they manhandled you, dragging you toward the wall, Xavier felt the white-hot surge of anger flare through him.

He watched as the man pushed you roughly against the cold stone wall, your body slumping on impact. You struggled, arms flailing as you tried to fight back, your voice strained and frantic. The unfamiliar man approached you, his face twisted with a sickening grin, and before Xavier could even process it, the man’s hands were all over you, feeling you up.

“Get off her!” Xavier hissed under his breath, his fingers tightening so hard around the arms of his chair that he thought the metal might snap. His body tensed, every muscle coiled with the instinct to protect you, to tear the man away from you. But he was powerless—stuck watching, his heart pounding in his ears, every second feeling like a lifetime.

Your voice cut through the chaos. “I'm bleeding! I’m on my period!” you screamed, desperation thick in your voice.

Xavier froze, eyes wide as the stranger’s hands recoiled. The man grimaced, backing off like a coward, muttering something inaudible as he stepped away from you. Xavier felt a surge of relief—so intense that he almost thought it was over. But then his stomach turned, realizing just how close you had come to something worse.

The relief didn’t last long. He watched, his breath shallow, as he dragged you over to a dingy showerhead in the corner of the room. The rusted metal clung to the grimy tile, the smell of mildew practically radiating through the screen. You were shoved under the cold spray, and when the icy water hit your body, you didn’t scream. You didn’t cry out. You trembled, your whole frame shaking violently as the freezing water soaked through your clothes, your hair plastering to your skull.

Xavier’s chest tightened painfully. You were silent, but your body was wracked with shivers, your shoulders shaking as the water poured down over you. Why aren’t you fighting? he thought, his heart breaking with every second that passed. Why aren’t you screaming?

He could see it, the exhaustion that had settled into you, the hopelessness. The strength you usually had was slipping away, replaced by the toll of captivity and cruelty. His fists clenched, the rage boiling under his skin as he watched the stranger turn off the water and leave you there—helpless, wet, and shivering on the cold basement floor.

Xavier’s breath hitched, his throat closing up as he watched you desperately try to catch your breath, your body trembling uncontrollably. Then, slowly, your eyes fluttered shut, your head lolling forward as your body went limp. You collapsed—passed out from sheer exhaustion, from the cold, from everything they had done to you.

A single tear slid down Xavier’s cheek, though he didn’t realize it was there at first. The wet warmth caught him by surprise, and he wiped it away quickly, frustration twisting inside him like a knife. He couldn’t stop watching—he couldn’t turn away. Even though every second felt like it was cutting deeper into him, he couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen. He needed to know what had happened. He needed to know everything.

The screen flickered slightly as the footage continued. Reese appeared again, but this time he was alone. His hands were full—clothes and pads, probably for you. Xavier’s teeth ground together, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he watched Reese step cautiously toward the bed. Your body still lay there, unconscious, cold, vulnerable.

Reese didn’t move for a long moment, just standing there, staring at your unmoving form. He seemed torn—his face twisted with guilt, fear, maybe even shame. His eyes flickered to your face, and Xavier’s pulse quickened. The tension in his body coiled tighter, a knot of rage and anxiety constricting his chest.

Then, slowly, Reese stepped closer to you. His hand extended, trembling as he reached toward your face, his fingers hovering just above your cheek. No. Don’t touch her. Xavier’s mind screamed the words, his hands gripping the sides of his chair so hard that his nails dug into the leather, leaving deep grooves. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, his muscles straining as though he might actually break through the screen and stop him.

But then Reese hesitated. His hand hovered for a moment longer before he pulled back, taking a deep, shaky breath. Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest, his relief palpable—but it did nothing to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him.

Reese placed the clothes on the bed across from you, his eyes still fixed on your face, but he didn’t touch you. He stepped away, leaving you there, still unconscious, still shivering slightly. Xavier’s breath came out in a ragged sigh, his body trembling with the overwhelming flood of emotions that he could barely keep in check.

But this wasn’t over. He knew it wasn’t over.

Xavier leaned forward, wiping another tear from his cheek as he narrowed his eyes at the screen. He had to keep going. He had to see what happened next. He had to know. He had to find out everything.

Xavier watched as the video played on, his entire body locked in place, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. He could barely breathe as the image flickered and your figure stirred, your body shifting slowly on the cold, hard ground. The way you moved, every inch of your body screaming exhaustion, made his heart sink. You looked like a shell of yourself, like every ounce of strength had been drained from you, leaving only a frail, weakened version of the person he once knew.

He watched as you struggled to sit up, your soaked nightgown clinging to your body like a lead weight, dragging you down. Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself up, your hair soaked, wet strands sticking to your face, your breaths shallow and labored. His fingers tightened on the edges of the desk, his heart aching at the sight of you. Every movement looked painful—every breath an effort.

Come on… please… just get up, he thought, willing you to find the strength to keep moving, to fight back against the hell you were trapped in.

Slowly, you managed to rise to your feet, your knees wobbling slightly as you reached for the clothes Reese had left behind. You dressed in silence, your movements sluggish, like you were on the verge of collapse. The sight of you changing, of slipping into the dry clothes, should have brought Xavier some relief, but it didn’t. If anything, it made his stomach churn with dread. He could see it in your face—the numbness, the exhaustion, the sheer hopelessness that seemed to radiate from your every gesture.

You don’t deserve this. None of this, Xavier thought, his throat tightening as a lump of guilt settled deep in his chest.

Then, something shifted. You glanced up toward the stairs, your expression tense, wary, like you were planning something. For a moment, a flicker of hope sparked in Xavier’s chest as he watched you move toward the steps, your eyes focused on the large hatch at the top. Were you trying to escape? He leaned forward in his seat, his breath held as you reached the hatch leaning against it, your breath ragged

Come on. You can do this. Try and open it baby.

But then, you froze. Your head jerked up, eyes wide, and without warning, you bolted back down the stairs, your feet nearly slipping on the slick floor as you dove under the bed, hiding like a frightened animal. Xavier’s heart stuttered, his breath catching in his throat.

What’s wrong? Why are you hiding?

His pulse pounded in his ears as the camera trembled slightly, picking up the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching the basement. Heavy, deliberate footsteps—multiple sets, moving in sync. His heart sank deeper into his stomach, his gut twisting with dread as three figures came into view: Reese, the cold-eyed woman with dark hair—the same woman who had haunted his thoughts since that first encounter—and another man, unfamiliar, likely one of their henchmen.

The air felt suffocating as the henchman crouched down beside the bed, his meaty hand reaching under and grabbing you roughly by the arm. Xavier’s stomach lurched as he watched you struggle, but it was no use. The man yanked you out from under the bed, your body hitting the floor with a dull thud as he dragged you to your feet.

“No, no, no…” Xavier whispered under his breath, his chest tightening as he watched helplessly from behind the screen. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair, his knuckles white with tension. His skin crawled with anxiety, his mind screaming for you to fight, to resist, to do anything to stop this from happening.

The woman stepped forward, her face a mask of cold indifference as she looked down at you, her eyes sharp and calculating. Dialogue is exchanged that he cant quite hear but he manages to make out a few sentences.

“We don’t know for sure if you’re a match yet,” the woman said, 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.”

Xavier’s jaw clenched. A match? For what? What kind of sick, twisted operation was this? His mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of the nightmare unfolding in front of him. She had mentioned you were a match back in the basement. Was this what she was referring to? He felt the bile rise in his throat as the woman produced a syringe from her coat pocket, her movements mechanical, practiced. She didn’t care about you. You were nothing but a commodity to her—just another body, another possible match.

He leaned closer to the screen, his breath coming faster, harder. “No! Don’t give in!” he screamed in his mind, wishing with every fiber of his being that you could hear him. Fight! Stab her with it!

But you didn’t.

You just…obeyed.

Your arm trembled as you extended it toward the woman, too weak, too exhausted to fight back. Your eyes were dull, drained of the fire he knew you once had. Xavier felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest as he watched you give in, letting them take the blood sample without resistance. He wanted to scream, to throw something, to punch through the screen. This isn’t you. You were always so strong. So fierce. What did they do to you?

But he knew the truth. He could see it in your body language, in the slump of your shoulders. You had been beaten down, worn away by days of captivity. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not from here. His helplessness gnawed at him, threatening to overwhelm him.

After taking the sample, the woman glanced at the henchman and hands it to him. He leaves and 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.”

She exchanges a few words with Reese before making her way up the stairs, heels clacking as she walks back up.

But Reese didn’t follow. He lingered behind, his eyes avoiding yours. And then you snapped. You start yelling about how you had trusted him.

"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!"

Your words were heavy with betrayal, each syllable cutting through the silence like a knife. Xavier’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. He remembered your voice on the phone—the trust in your words when you mentioned Reese. You had believed in him. You had gone with him because you thought he would protect you.

I should have told you not to go. I should have warned you. Guilt flooded through Xavier, choking him. I thought you’d be okay. I thought I’d find you in time.

Reese flinched under your words, his hands shaking at his sides. He couldn’t even meet your eyes as you continued to hurl your accusations at him. He looked every bit the coward, standing there, unable to face the truth of what he’d done to you. He babbles some excuses about how he had to do what he did. But you weren't having it. How he thought you would be dumped like the others. How he didn't know about the organ trafficking.

Xavier scoffed. A coward and a liar this guy was.

“I’m sorry,” he says, seemingly all he can mutter after all that.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he turned and walked out, leaving you alone in the cold, empty room.

Xavier’s chest heaved with labored breaths as he watched you slide down the wall, your body shaking with silent sobs. His heart ached, the guilt and anger mixing into a storm of emotions that he couldn’t contain. He wanted to reach through the screen, to hold you, to tell you he was coming.

I’m so sorry. I’ll make this right. I swear.

The video continued, the next few days slipping by in a blur of monotony. Reese came and went, bringing you food, but he said nothing. He was silent, avoiding your gaze, avoiding confrontation. And you—you barely moved. You spent most of your time sleeping, your body too exhausted, too worn down to fight anymore. Xavier’s stomach churned as he realized how deeply this place had broken you.

But then… something changed.

His eyes widened as a familiar figure appeared on the screen. The same man who had groped you when you had first arrived in the basement, his expression dark, predatory. Xavier’s blood ran cold as the man descended the stairs, his eyes fixed on your sleeping form.

No…no…not again.

You stirred, your body tensing the moment you saw him. The tension in the air was palpable. Xavier could feel it in his bones, the dread creeping up his spine as the man stalked toward you. His lips moved, saying something to you, but the audio was too muffled to make out the words. Whatever he said, it made your body stiffen with fear as he grabbed your arm.

Then, without warning, the man lunged forward, grabbing you tighter and slamming you into the mattress.

Xavier’s vision blurred with red. His heart pounded in his ears as rage surged through him like a wildfire. He gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white, his teeth grinding together as he watched you fight like hell. You kicked, you scratched, you screamed—but it wasn’t enough. The man was too strong. He pinned you down, his hands tearing at your clothes, ripping your sweatpants off with vicious intent.

“No...” Xavier hissed, slamming his fist into the desk. He couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t watch you be violated like this. His eyes squeezed shut, but he couldn’t stop himself from listening, every sound making his blood boil, the anger roaring in his mind like an unstoppable storm.

He could hear the man struggling—his heavy breathing, the sound of fabric tearing, your muffled cries. Every second felt like an eternity. Xavier’s entire body trembled with fury, his mind screaming at him to do something, but he was powerless.

And then he heard it.

Your voice, soft, almost a whisper. He couldn’t make out what you said, but the words were enough to anger the man on top of you He seems like he's about to hit you, and then—

"Is that anyway to talk to a lady?"

The man was frozen, is facing twisting in shock before he was suddenly flung off of you, his body slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch. His screams filled the air, a sound so satisfying that it almost drowned out the confusion that followed.

Xavier’s eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his throat. What the hell just happened?

And then he saw him.

A tall man, dressed in dark clothes, his face somewhat shadowed by the dim lighting of the basement. His presence was commanding, intimidating—and immediately recognizable. The white grayish hair, terrifying demeanor, crimson blood colored eye.

Skye.

Xavier’s heart lurched. What the hell was he doing there?

Xavier’s breath caught in his throat as the figure of Skye moved toward you, his tall, dark silhouette looming in the dim light of the basement. His walk was calm, casual, as though he hadn’t just flung a man across the room like a ragdoll. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he stopped in front of you, his lips twitching upward in a half-smile.

But what shook Xavier to his core wasn’t just Skye’s appearance. It was your reaction.

You scrambled to pull your clothes back on, the shock evident on your face, but there was something else in your expression that made Xavier’s stomach twist. You didn’t look confused. You didn’t look like you had just been saved by a stranger. There was familiarity there—recognition. And then you spoke, your voice shaky but not surprised.

“What took you so long?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Xavier’s heart skipped a beat. What?

Skye chuckled softly, his voice low and almost teasing. “Is this the thanks I get, kitten?” He glanced back at the man crumpled against the wall, a smug grin playing on his lips.

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

Xavier’s mind reeled, his thoughts scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing, what he was hearing. You knew him? The question burned in his chest, but before he could fully process it, another sound drew his attention.

There was a loud thud as Reese came tumbling down the stairs, his body rolling helplessly until he landed face-first on the cold stone floor. Behind him, two figures with bird-like masks giggled, nudging each other proudly.

"We got him, boss," one of them chirped, his voice muffled behind the mask. "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 groaned, struggling to push himself up, but when he finally lifted his head, his eyes went wide with terror. He looked past the masked figures, past you, and his gaze landed on Skye. His entire body trembled, and Xavier could see the exact moment the fear set in, the moment Reese understood who he was facing.

“Sylus…” Reese breathed, his voice trembling as he tried to scoot backward, his limbs shaking. “You…you ran away from Sylus?”

The name sent a bolt of electricity through Xavier’s body, freezing him in place. His entire world seemed to tilt on its axis, the ground falling away beneath him. Sylus. The name echoed in his mind, a name he had heard whispered in fear, a name spoken with the kind of reverence reserved for monsters and myths. The ruler of the N109 Zone. The feared leader of Onychinus.

And now, that man—the man who had offered him a ride, the same man who had tried to kill him and stage it as a car crash—was standing right there, in the same room as you. Sylus.

The reality of it hit him like a punch to the gut. This is Sylus?

His breath quickened, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts at once. Sylus—he’s been the one all along. The man with the charm, the mystery. The one who played me for a fool and tried to end my life. He remembered their conversation in the car, the way Sylus had studied him, like he was nothing more than a pawn in some twisted game. And now, here he was, standing over you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

The audio cuts out briefly, some words being exchanged between you and Sylus before it comes back in clearly. A black crow had materialized on his shoulder, and Reese seemed confused that the crows name was Mephisto. Sylus snapped at him, seemingly annoyed he was attempting to talk to you.

Sylus’s dark eyes flicked back toward you, his expression softening in a way that made Xavier’s stomach churn. He watched as Sylus crouched down in front of you, his tall frame looming over you but his movements gentle, controlled. You seemed to be spiraling. There was something possessive in the way he moved, the way he reached out to you.

“Shh, kitten,” Sylus murmured, his voice soft but commanding. “It’s alright. I found you.”

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest, his throat tight. Kitten? The term dripped with intimacy, with ownership. He watched in horror as you didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. You just stared at Sylus, your eyes wide with a mix of emotions—fear, confusion, and something else Xavier couldn’t quite place. Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t try to push him away. You didn’t run. You just trembled there, your body torn between exhaustion and emotion.

Sylus leaned in closer, his dark gaze locking onto yours. “You’re mine again,” he whispered, his voice a possessive growl that made the hairs on Xavier’s neck stand on end. “Don’t cry. Not now. Not in front of them.”

Xavier’s breath hitched, his body trembling with a combination of fear and fury. Yours? The word echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of dread that came with it. Sylus just called you his. And you…you weren’t fighting it. You weren’t pulling away. Xavier’s mind spun with confusion, with disbelief. He could barely make sense of what was happening.

Xavier’s hands gripped the sides of his chair, his knuckles turning white with the strain. No…no, this can’t be happening. The tenderness in Sylus’s voice, the way he looked at you like you were the center of his universe—it made Xavier’s stomach twist with anger. You were his. How dare this man—this monster—claim you?

But then, something else drew his attention.

A blood-curdling scream filled the basement, shattering the stillness. Xavier’s eyes snapped to the figures on the other side of the room. Reese and the henchman were writhing in agony, Reese's body contorted with pain as he was slammed into the wall, their screams echoing through the small, claustrophobic space. But Sylus… Sylus didn’t even look at them. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move. His attention stayed fixed on you, his hand gently wiping the tears from your cheeks as though nothing else in the world mattered.

“Don’t look at them,” Sylus murmured softly, his voice soothing yet firm. His fingers brushed over your face, gently cradling your chin and turning your gaze back to him. “Look at me.”

Xavier felt like he couldn’t breathe, his heart racing as his mind struggled to process everything. Sylus was ignoring the carnage behind him, the screams of the men he was torturing, and was focused entirely on you. It was as if you were the only thing that mattered to him, as if the world outside of you didn’t exist.

His eyes stayed locked on the screen, unable to look away as Sylus reached out, his hand moving gently to your face. “Look at me,” he whispered, his voice dripping with a dark intimacy. “Your tears, your pain, your misery…it all belongs to me.”

"I’m the only one, who gets to see you cry."

Xavier’s pulse pounded in his ears, his skin crawling as he watched Sylus’s possessive, gentle touch. The man was a predator, but the way he handled you, the way he spoke to you, was so calm, so assured, like you were his most valuable possession. And what frightened Xavier the most was that you weren’t fighting him. You were letting him soothe you. You were letting him touch you.

Before Xavier could even begin to process the horror of what he was seeing, another voice broke through the tension.

“Please, make him stop! Ask him to stop!”

Xavier’s gaze snapped to Reese, his blood boiling. The coward was begging for his life, his body curled up against the wall, his eyes wide with terror. But it was your face that made Xavier’s heart ache. Your expression had hardened, your fear melting away into cold resolve. You stared at Reese, your lips curling into a sneer. The audio cuts out briefly before it comes back again.

“Go to hell, Reese,” you spat, your voice sharp and final.

A sickening crack followed, and before Xavier even had time to register what was happening, Sylus calmly stood up. He reached into his coat, pulling out a sleek black pistol. With smooth, practiced movements, he aimed the weapon at Reese without even blinking.

Xavier’s breath caught in his throat, his entire body tensing.

BANG.

Reese’s head snapped back as the bullet tore through his skull, his brain matter splattering against the wall in a gruesome display. His body slumped to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling around him in a thick, dark puddle.

Sylus lowered the pistol, his expression calm, almost serene, as though he had merely swatted a fly. He turned back to you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looked at your shocked face. His smile—so tender, so full of affection—made Xavier’s stomach churn with revulsion.

“I sent him to hell, just like you said, sweetie,"

Xavier’s mind raced, his heart hammering in his chest as he sat frozen, unable to pull his eyes from the screen. What the hell am I watching? His hands gripped the armrests of his chair so tightly that his fingers ached, but the pain barely registered. His world was narrowing down to this single moment, the horrifying spectacle unfolding in front of him.

His eyes darted to Sylus, who now stood with calm, calculated precision, his face devoid of any emotion as he turned his gaze to the henchman still writhing on the ground. The man’s body was twisted in agony, his limbs jerking uncontrollably as he gasped for breath, his face contorted with raw terror. He’s going to die. Sylus is going to kill him, too.

Xavier’s pulse quickened, a sick feeling swirling in his gut as he watched the tendrils of the familiar ominous red mist around Sylus begin to thicken, swirling with a low, almost inhuman hum that reverberated through the air. The mist was like a living entity, moving with a purpose, snaking toward the henchman with eerie fluidity, wrapping itself around him like a serpent tightening its hold.

The man’s breath hitched, his chest heaving with frantic, desperate gasps, but it was no use. The mist coiled tighter, its grip unyielding as it crushed the air from his lungs. His mouth opened wide, as if to scream, but no sound escaped. His eyes bulged with fear, veins popping in his neck as the mist squeezed relentlessly, cutting off any hope of escape.

Xavier’s throat tightened, his own breath becoming shallow as he watched the man’s body convulse violently, limbs thrashing against the floor in a sickening dance of death. The panic in the man’s eyes was unmistakable, the sheer terror that gripped him as he realized his life was slipping away. The mist was alive, feeding off his fear, tightening like a noose around his entire body.

Sylus stood over him, his hand raised slightly as if controlling the mist with nothing more than a thought. His expression remained cold, detached, but there was something else there—a faint flicker of satisfaction in his dark eyes. He was enjoying this.

Xavier’s stomach churned, the bile rising in his throat as Sylus’s power became terrifyingly real before his eyes. This wasn’t just some mob boss. This was a monster.

The man’s body twitched one final time, his limbs spasming as the mist constricted further, wrapping around his torso like a vice. His ribs began to bend, then snap, the bones splintering under the intense pressure. A gurgling sound escaped the man’s throat as his body gave way, his chest caving in, bones cracking like brittle twigs underfoot.

Holy shit... Xavier could barely comprehend what he was seeing. The sound of bone snapping echoed through the room, filling his mind with a sickening chorus of destruction. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. His eyes were glued to the horror as Sylus squeezed his hand into a fist, the motion simple, deliberate—final.

With a sickening, wet crack, the man’s entire body exploded outward. His ribcage folded under the immense force, collapsing in on itself like a house of cards, his spine snapping in two as the red mist continued to crush him.

The impact sent a sickening splatter of blood and tissue across the tiles, a dark, violent stain painting the cold grey walls in streaks of red. His bones crunched under the force, his skull cracking against the hard surface as his remains dripped to the floor in a grotesque heap. The sound echoed in the stillness, the dripping blood the only sign of life left in the room.

The mist slowly receded, dissolving into the air like it had never been there at all.

Xavier’s chest heaved, his breath shallow, ragged, as he sat in stunned silence. His mind couldn’t process what he had just witnessed. The sheer brutality of it, the casual way in which Sylus had destroyed a man’s life with nothing more than a thought—it was too much. Too surreal.

Sylus didn’t even flinch. He turned back toward you, his face softening once more, his cold detachment melting away as he reached out to touch your shoulder, as though nothing horrific had just occurred. As though the world hadn’t just shattered in violence around him.

Xavier swallowed hard, his throat dry, his body shaking with a mix of adrenaline and shock. What the hell is happening here? His mind was spinning, trying to reconcile the image of Sylus—this monster in human skin—with the man who was now gazing at you with such tenderness.

Sylus gently tilted your chin upward, his fingers brushing your skin with a strange sort of intimacy. "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."

Xavier’s heart clenched as he saw the tears in your eyes, the way your body trembled. You looked utterly broken, shaken by the violence, but you didn’t pull away from Sylus. You didn’t fight. You let him touch you. You let him soothe you. And that—that was what terrified Xavier the most.

But you didn't really have a choice but to let him did you? Who would refuse a guy that just made a man explode his guts all over the walls?

Xavier sat there, his mind numb and his body frozen in place. The images on the screen had burned themselves into his brain—Sylus’s cold efficiency, the detached way he had slaughtered these men without a second thought, and the possessive way he touched your trembling body. It was like none of it mattered to him. He had done what he came for, and nothing more.

One of the masked men cheered as if he had just witnessed a cool party trick, his voice muffled and gleeful behind the bird-shaped mask. Xavier's stomach turned as he watched Sylus remain calm, entirely unfazed by the grotesque carnage he had just caused. Sylus didn’t even spare the scene another glance. His attention was entirely on you, your trembling body settling in his arms as he picked you up, your form curling inward slightly as if to shield yourself from the reality of what had just happened.

Xavier’s heart ached as he watched you struggle weakly, a part of you resisting, but ultimately…relenting. Giving up. The way you allowed yourself to be held by him—the man responsible for everything—sent a deep wave of anger and helplessness through Xavier’s veins. He wanted to scream at the screen, to break through it and take you back from this monster, but he was powerless.

Sylus paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, looking down at your small, shaking form cradled in his arms, then briefly glanced up at the camera. His crimson eyes glinted, and then—he winked. A cold, confident wink that sent a shiver down Xavier’s spine. It was as if Sylus knew exactly who was watching, as if this entire grotesque performance had been for his benefit. He didn’t care about the bloody mess he had left behind. He had what he came for.

The crow perched on Sylus’s shoulder cawed once, flapping its wings as Sylus calmly ascended the stairs with you in his arms, disappearing into the dim shadows above. Xavier watched in stunned silence, his breath shallow, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. He fast-forwarded through the footage, his mind racing, but the camera cut out soon after, leaving only an empty, black screen.

Xavier leaned back in his chair, the tension in his body finally releasing as his head hit the backrest, but the relief never came. His head was spinning, everything suddenly crashing into him all at once. Sylus. The truth hung heavy in the air around him, suffocating. Sylus had been the one behind your disappearance. He was the reason you had abruptly vanished from Xavier’s life. He was the monster pulling the strings.

His heart raced as the pieces fell into place, each one sharper than the last. Sylus had tried to kill him, not for the Hunter's Association’s secrets, but because he had been looking for you. And Sylus knew that. He had known that all along. But then… why had he kept him alive? Why toy with him like this?

“I've realized you're much more useful to me alive than dead." Sylus had said to him. The words now echoed in Xavier’s mind like a sick joke.

Useful? Useful for what?

Xavier sat there in stunned silence, his hands resting uselessly on the desk. The weight of it all settled into him, the anger rising and brimming in his chest until it became almost unbearable. His breathing quickened as rage burned through him. Of course, it had to be Sylus. The feared leader of Onychinus, the untouchable ruler of the N109 Zone. Of course, it had to be him. The man who had made practically everyone tremble with fear—the man who had just casually slaughtered people as if they were nothing—he had taken you.

And he was the one who had tried to take Xavier’s life, too.

Xavier clenched his fists, the tension in his body building to a fever pitch. His mind raced, the realization settling deep in his gut, heavy and sickening. Fuck.

He felt…hopeless. What could he do against Sylus? How could he fight someone like that—a man with an army, with power beyond anything Xavier could even fathom? The weight of it all crushed him. The anger simmered, bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to consume him.

Then, a sound broke the silence. His phone buzzed on the desk, the vibration snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. His heart skipped a beat as he glanced at the screen.

An unknown number.

Xavier’s breath caught in his throat, a strange, icy dread settling over him as he picked up the phone. His eyes scanned the message.

"I figure by now you've realized what's really going on. Listen closely. I will not repeat myself. Try any tricks or tell anyone, she dies."

Xavier’s chest tightened, panic creeping into his every nerve. His fingers trembled slightly as he held the phone, the reality of the situation finally crashing down in full. This was Sylus. It had to be.

She dies.

The words hit him like a sledgehammer, sending a jolt of terror straight through his core. Sylus had her. Sylus was watching. He had been watching all along.

Xavier’s heart raced, his mind scrambling for what to do. He needed to respond, but the fear clawed at him, suffocating. His hands shook as he typed out the only thing he could think of, his fingers moving almost instinctively across the screen.

"It's you, isn't it? Sylus."

The message was simple, direct. But as he stared down at the words, his stomach twisted into knots. He knew who Sylus was now, but what was he going to do about it? What could he do?

Xavier’s fingers hovered over the screen as he read the response. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the last.

"You're smarter than you look."

The insult was almost expected, but Xavier barely registered it. His mind was too focused on what Sylus had just revealed—on the horrifying reality he was now facing.

His eyes narrowed as he typed out his reply, his fingers moving with more defiance than his trembling heart felt.

"Well, I'm not stupid. Why would you save her just to kill her? You're lying."

His pulse raced as he hit send, the words blurring slightly as he stared at the screen, waiting.

The silence on the other end stretched out, suffocating. Every second felt like an eternity, the tension building in the room like a storm about to break. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Maybe I’m pushing him too far.

Xavier’s throat tightened as his mind scrambled for what he’d do next. Had he made a mistake? Sylus wasn’t just some thug. He was the ruler of the N109 Zone, the man who had tried to kill him. The man who now had you in his clutches.

Then, the phone buzzed again, and Xavier’s stomach dropped.

"Do you want to find out?"

The blood drained from Xavier’s face as he read the message. His body stiffened, a cold, creeping dread settling deep into his bones. The casual threat lingered in the air, icy and terrifying. He could almost hear Sylus’s voice behind the words, dripping with dangerous amusement.

Do you want to find out?

Xavier’s blood ran cold. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of the question sinking into him like a lead weight. What did Sylus mean? The threat was clear, but Xavier felt trapped, stuck between the impossible.

He wouldn’t kill you… not after going through so much trouble to find you. That’s what Xavier wanted to believe, but the sinking feeling in his stomach told him otherwise. Sylus was unpredictable. A man who could kill with a flick of his hand, a man who saw people as tools, as possessions.

What if Sylus wasn’t bluffing?

Xavier’s thoughts raced, his mind a chaotic swirl of panic and rage. He didn’t know what to do, and for the first time in his life, he felt utterly powerless. Sylus had control—over him, over you. Every choice was a trap.

His fingers hovered over the phone, frozen as he stared at the message. Do you want to find out?

No. He didn’t.

Xavier's fingers hovered over the screen as he read Sylus’s latest message before typing once more.

"Okay fine. Enough with the games. What do you want from me?" His chest tightened, each heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum.

"Good to know we're on the same page."

The casual, almost mocking tone twisted Xavier's gut, but it was the rest of the message that made his blood run cold.

"You're going to tell your captain that you saw and talked to your… partner. That she is fine and just felt trapped with work, so she fled to another country. After that, get rid of the SIM card. I will know if you don't. Don't test me."

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest. The SIM card—the one that had shown him the horrific reality of what had happened to you, the one that contained evidence of something far larger and darker than he’d realized—had to be destroyed. Sylus knew everything. Every move Xavier made, every desperate attempt to unravel the truth, Sylus was watching. Controlling him like a puppet.

His hands trembled as he furiously typed back, the words coming fast, his desperation bleeding into every stroke of the keys.

"I can't. There's an organ trafficking ring going on right under our noses, and they might be stealing women from Linkon as well. I can lie to the captain, but don't you at least care about the people who took her in the first place?"

He hit send, his pulse quickening as the message went through. This was it. His last-ditch effort. If he could just get Sylus to care—if he could find some sliver of humanity in the man, some reason for him to want justice, to see that the people responsible for trafficking you were taken down—maybe, just maybe, he could find a way out of this.

But the silence that followed was suffocating.

Xavier’s heart raced in the quiet seconds that ticked by, every moment dragging out into an unbearable eternity. His breath hitched as he stared at the phone, waiting—hoping—for a response. Come on… care about this. Do something.

Finally, after what felt like an agonizing stretch of time, his phone buzzed.

"I’m taking care of them. Just do what I ask and she lives. Simple, yes?"

Xavier’s stomach churned as he read the words, the cold reality settling over him like a blanket of ice. Of course. Sylus wasn’t concerned about the trafficking. He wasn’t concerned about justice, or the victims, or anything that Xavier cared about. He was focused on one thing—control. He was always ten steps ahead, always moving the pieces on the board to his own advantage.

A wave of frustration, helplessness, and rage swept over Xavier, but what choice did he have? You were still in Sylus’s hands. He could keep pushing, keep trying to fight, but Sylus had made one thing clear—don’t test me.

Xavier's hands hovered over the phone, his mind racing. He felt trapped. Every move felt wrong, but there was no way out, not with you hanging in the balance. His throat tightened as he typed his next message, his heart pounding with the bitter taste of defeat.

"Fine. I'll do what you ask."

He hit send, the words feeling like poison as they left his fingertips.

Xavier's fingers tightened around his phone, his knuckles white as he stared at Sylus’s last message:

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

It was a simple sentence, but it carried the weight of finality that made Xavier's stomach twist. He typed furiously, his heart racing as he asked the one question that had been gnawing at him since this nightmare began.

"If I do this, does that mean you'll let her go?"

He hit send, the cold sweat on his neck making him shiver as he waited for a response. His mind raced, clinging to the faint hope that maybe—maybe—Sylus had a plan that involved letting you go. Maybe there was a way out of this, a way to get you back. Alive.

The phone buzzed in his hand.

"You get knowledge that she's still breathing. Should suffice."

Xavier’s stomach dropped, his body going cold as he read the message. His heart hammered in his chest, rage bubbling up inside him, burning hotter with each passing second. That was it. That was all Sylus was offering—the knowledge that you were alive. Not freedom. Not safety. Just…existence. Sylus had no intention of letting you go. Not now. Not ever.

But why? What was his game? Why keep you? Why was he so obsessed?

Xavier’s mind flashed back to the surveillance footage. To the way Sylus had looked at you. That strange tenderness in his eyes, the possessiveness in his voice when he called you "mine". It hadn’t been cold or detached like the way he dealt with others. It was intimate. Like you were something he cherished, something that belonged to him.

Did this monster…love you?

The thought made Xavier sick to his core. No. Someone like Sylus wasn’t capable of love. He was a killer, a manipulator, a tyrant. People like him didn’t love—they controlled, they possessed. But then… why kidnap you? What was it about you that had caught his attention, his obsession? You couldn’t possibly mean that much to him. Could you?

Xavier’s fists clenched in anger. The thought of Sylus loving you—touching you—made his blood boil. The idea of you, his love, being held by that monster sent a dark wave of rage crashing over him. He couldn't stop the thought from festering in his mind, couldn't shake the image of Sylus holding you close, controlling you with that calm, possessive demeanor.

"Don't think you'll have her for long. I'll find her. And you. You won't like it when I do."

The words appeared on the screen before Xavier even realized he had typed them, each letter a promise of vengeance, of justice. He hit send, the anger burning in his chest like a fire he couldn't contain.

For a moment, there was silence. Then his phone buzzed again.

"I'd love to see you try. Although, you may be a tad bit too late when you arrive. I've already claimed her in more ways than one."

Xavier froze. His entire world tilted as the implications of Sylus’s words sank into his mind like a dagger. Claimed her? In more ways than one? His body stiffened, the air around him suddenly feeling thick, suffocating.

Had this monster…forced himself on you?

His breath caught in his throat, fury surging through him like a wildfire. No. No, he couldn't have. The thought of Sylus putting his hands on you, of violating you in any way, made Xavier feel like he was about to explode. His heart pounded in his chest, rage clouding his vision.

He couldn’t stop his fingers from moving, the words fueled by a deep, primal fury.

"You fucking bastard. I'll kill you."

The message was blunt, raw, and filled with a hatred so deep that it practically burned through the screen. Xavier’s body trembled, his pulse roaring in his ears as he waited, barely able to breathe.

Sylus’s response came quickly, sharp and dismissive, as if this were nothing more than a game to him.

"We'll be in touch. I'll be watching. Ciao."

Xavier's hand shook as he stared at the words. Sylus had won, for now. He had all the control, all the power. He had you. And as much as Xavier wanted to tear the phone apart, to destroy everything in his path, there was nothing he could do. Not yet.

The fight wasn’t over, but it had just gotten infinitely more personal.

And Xavier knew he wouldn’t rest until Sylus was dead.

Xavier stared at his phone in disbelief, his heart racing as he watched messages with Sylus disappeared. What the hell? He hadn’t deleted them. He frantically swiped at the screen, refreshing, trying to bring them back, but there was nothing. Just an empty thread where Sylus’s taunting words had been only moments before. Gone.

His chest tightened, a cold wave of dread sweeping over him. Could Sylus really manipulate his phone? Could he get into his messages, erase things at will? The thought made Xavier’s blood run cold. Sylus wasn’t just some twisted mob boss; he had control over everything—his world, his technology, even his mind. He was everywhere, watching every move Xavier made. It felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

His hand trembled as he stared at the blank screen. Sylus had just stripped him of the only connection he had left. No evidence. No trail.

Xavier swallowed hard and clicked on your profile picture, seeking something—anything—to ground him. Your smiling face filled the screen, staring back at him with that familiar warmth, and for a moment, his heart clenched so painfully that it felt like he couldn’t breathe. You. He could see you so clearly in his mind—your laugh, the way your eyes lit up when you smiled, the way you had looked at him with concern that last night, like you always knew when something was wrong.

He clicked on the last message he had sent you, his heart aching with a bitter sense of nostalgia.

"Meet me outside my door, it’s urgent."

You had rushed over that night, your knock echoing in his memory—quick and frantic, just like you. He could still see you standing in his doorway, breathless, your brow furrowed with worry, the anxious look on your face as you took in his tense expression.

You’d been worried about him—worried about what was going on. He hadn’t meant to scare you, but in a way, your worry had been endearing. You looked so cute when you were worried about him.

He remembered how his heart had skipped a beat when he saw you there, how he’d calmed you down with a soft smile, suggesting the two of you go grab food together. He had something to tell you. Something important.

That night—the last night he saw you—had been etched into his mind ever since. The kiss. The confession. The memory replayed over and over in his head, a cruel reminder of what he had lost. The way his heart had raced when he finally worked up the courage to tell you how he felt. The words had tumbled out of him—nervous, but genuine. He remembered the way you’d looked at him, eyes wide with surprise, and for a moment, he thought he’d blown it.

But then…you kissed him.

God, that kiss. Xavier’s breath caught in his throat as the memory washed over him. The softness of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against his. The way his heart had nearly burst from his chest when you leaned into him, your fingers brushing against his skin as if testing the waters. He remembered how everything else had faded away in that moment. There had been no Hunter’s Association, no missions, no danger. Just you and him, wrapped up in each other, the world melting into the background.

That kiss had been everything he’d hoped for and more. It had been sweet, tentative at first, but quickly deepened into something more, something real. He could still feel the way his fingers had tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as the heat between you grew. He had wanted to lose himself in you, to never let go. It felt right. More right than anything had in years.

But then…he had pulled away. He had stopped himself. Why? Why hadn’t he just asked you to come home with him? Why hadn’t he let the night go further? He had been scared. Scared of pushing too far, too fast. Scared of ruining what you had just started.

And now you were gone.

Xavier’s chest ached as the regret hit him like a tidal wave. If he had just asked you to stay, if he had let you come home with him that night, maybe you’d still be here. Maybe you wouldn’t have been taken. Maybe Sylus wouldn’t have you now.

His heart clenched painfully as he stared at your smiling profile picture, the weight of his regret suffocating him. He wished he could turn back time, take back that night, change everything. He had been too cautious, too afraid to push things forward. And now… now he was paying the price.

With a shaky hand, Xavier typed a message into the empty thread.

"I am coming, my love. When you read this, we will be together again."

The words blurred on the screen, and he stared at them for a long moment before pressing send. He didn’t know if you’d ever see it. Didn’t know if you’d even get a chance to read it. But it didn’t matter.

He was coming for you.

No matter what it took, he would find you. Sylus or no Sylus, he wasn’t going to stop until he had you back in his arms. Safe.

Suddenly, a sharp knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts, his heart leaping in his chest.

“Xavier? I heard you were back. Is now a good time?” Captain Jenna’s voice came from the other side of the door, calm but commanding as always. Xavier felt a rush of dread wash over him. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to face anyone right now, to lie to Jenna’s face after everything he had just uncovered. But he had no choice.

His gaze dropped back to his phone, to the message he had just sent you, your smiling contact photo staring back at him like a distant memory of a life that felt so far away now. He had to lie. Sylus was watching. Everything depended on him playing his part.

With a deep breath, Xavier shut off the phone, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he tried to steady himself. The weight of it all—the anger, the regret, the fear—pressed down on him, but he couldn’t let it show. He had to wear the mask. For now.

He exhaled slowly, opening his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. His voice was steady, controlled, even as the storm raged inside him.

"Yes…come in."

The door creaked open, and Xavier sat up straighter, forcing a calm expression as Captain Jenna stepped into the room. His heart still ached, the images of you still burned into his mind, but he would do what he had to.

For you.

You lay on the cold bathroom floor, your body still trembling from the aftermath of your vomiting. The cool tile pressed against your cheek, grounding you in reality, even though you desperately wanted to drift away from it. You felt weak, drained, as though the life had been wrung out of you by your own body’s betrayal. The soft hum of the overhead light buzzed, the only sound breaking through the thick silence that surrounded you. The nausea still churned in your stomach, but now it felt different—this wasn’t from sickness. This was from the weight of the truth sitting heavy in your chest, pressing down harder with every shallow breath you took.

You stared at the boxes of pregnancy tests that sat between you and the bathroom entrance, their neat, pristine packaging somehow mocking you. They were simple—just cardboard and plastic—but they felt like they had the power to tear your world apart. They loomed in the small space like a ticking bomb, waiting for you to take the next step. You knew what Sylus wanted. He wanted confirmation. He had planted the seed—literally—and now he was waiting, watching for the inevitable proof.

His words echoed in your mind, even though he was no longer in the room. "Take your time. I'll be in the room." The gentle kiss he had placed on your forehead before leaving left an imprint, a brand you couldn’t shake off. The way he had looked at you, with that dark, possessive patience, still sent chills down your spine. You hated it. Hated him.

The soft sound of his shoes getting farther and farther away had felt like a death sentence.

Now, you were alone. Alone with the tests and your growing fear.

You curled up tighter on the floor, wrapping your arms around your legs as if that could somehow shield you from what was coming. This can’t be real. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you tried to blink them away. You had to think. You had to focus, but all you could feel was the overwhelming weight of dread pressing down on you.

Your gaze kept drifting back to the boxes. What were your options?

The thought crossed your mind—maybe you could slam your head against the sink or the floor until everything went black. Maybe that would buy you some time. Maybe you could avoid facing this nightmare for just a little longer. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t kill you. You’d wake up with a concussion, maybe worse, and Sylus would simply chain you to the bed, his control tightening even further.

No. There was no escaping this.

Your chest tightened, and the panic began to rise again, bubbling up inside you until it was choking you. The silence in the room grew heavier, like the air itself was thickening, pressing down on your lungs. You could barely breathe.

You sat up slowly, every movement feeling like you were dragging yourself through quicksand. It’s fine. It’s just stress. You’re not pregnant. You’re just sick. That’s it. The nausea, the dizziness, the aches—they’re from being here. From the constant tension. It’s Sylus messing with your mind.

You weren’t pregnant. You couldn’t be.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, the doubt crept in. The signs had been there for days now, maybe even weeks. The constant exhaustion, the strange tenderness in your body, the way your stomach felt uneasy after every meal. Even the smallest things—like how your clothes had started to feel just a little bit tighter, or how your body seemed heavier, more sluggish. No. No.

You swallowed hard, staring at the boxes again. Despite the lavish bathroom being huge, the room felt too small, the walls too close. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as you reached for one of the boxes, your hands trembling.

Fine. You’d take the test, and then you’d laugh. You’d prove Sylus wrong. You could already imagine the smug look on his face melting away when you showed him the negative result. He was toying with you. This was just another one of his cruel games, right?

Your fingers fumbled with the box, your hands shaking so badly that you almost dropped it. The cheap cardboard tore under your grip, and you finally managed to pull the pregnancy test free. The plastic felt cold and foreign in your hand, like you didn’t even know what to do with it.

How did you end up here? How did this become your reality?

You stood up slowly, your legs wobbling beneath you, and shuffled awkwardly toward the toilet. The nausea rose again, a sickening wave that made you gag, but you swallowed it down, willing yourself to keep it together. It’s just a test. Just a stupid test.

The test felt clumsy in your grasp as you positioned yourself awkwardly. You had never thought you’d ever have to take a test until you were ready for a baby. Pregnancy hadn't been on your radar for awhile. You had always been careful, always taken the necessary precautions.

Birth control had supposed to been your protector.

But then Sylus...

You closed your eyes for a second, biting down on your lip hard enough to taste blood, and then you did it. After a few tense moments, you placed the test on the counter and sat back down on the floor.

Now you had to wait.

The seconds ticked by, stretching into what felt like hours. The ticking of the clock on the wall filled the room, each sound loud and grating in the stillness. Your heart pounded in your chest, so fast and so loud that it almost drowned out the noise around you. Not pregnant. You’re not pregnant.

You curled your knees to your chest, rocking slightly as you waited, your stomach churning with nausea, but this time from the overwhelming sense of dread that was building inside of you. The thought of looking at that test, of confirming what Sylus had already suspected, made your skin crawl. It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not real.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you forced yourself to stand. Your legs were shaking, and your hands were clammy as you reached for the test. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, willing yourself to have the strength to look. It’s going to be negative. You’re going to laugh at this. You’re going to shove it in Sylus’s face.

But when you finally opened your eyes, the world tilted beneath your feet.

Two faint pink lines.

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind refusing to process what you were seeing. No. You blinked, your vision blurring as you stared down at the test. No. You held it closer to your face, as if maybe, just maybe, you had read it wrong. But the lines didn’t change. They stayed there—two unmistakable lines.

Positive.

The air left your lungs in a painful rush, and the room began to spin. You dropped the test, the small plastic clattering against the tile as your legs gave out beneath you. You crumpled to the floor, your body folding in on itself as the sobs began to tear through you.

No. No. No.

You buried your face in your hands, the sobs coming harder now, shaking your entire body. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. But no matter how much you cried, no matter how much you wanted to deny it, the truth was staring you in the face.

You were pregnant.

Sylus had done this to you. He had taken everything from you—your freedom, your choices, your body—and now he had tied you to him in a way you couldn’t escape. You felt sick, disgusted, and utterly trapped. Your hand moved instinctively to your stomach, hovering there for a moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch it. This was real.

And there was no way out.

The scream ripped from your throat before you could even register the sound. It was raw, primal, and filled with the kind of desperation you hadn’t known you were capable of. Your entire body shook with the force of it, and you dug your nails into the cold tile, gasping for air through the sobs that wouldn’t stop. This can’t be happening. This thing inside you, this parasite that was feeding off your body, off your very life. The thought clawed at your mind, tearing you apart from the inside.

With shaking hands, you grabbed the pregnancy test box, rage surging through you as you hurled it across the bathroom. It hit the wall with a dull thud, the remaining tests scattering across the floor in a chaotic mess. It didn’t make you feel better. It didn’t release the boiling anger inside of you. The sobs only grew louder, more frantic, as the reality of it all hit you like a crushing weight. This was real.

Sylus had forced himself inside you. And now something else of his was also inside you.

You curled into yourself, pressing your hands against your stomach as if you could will the parasite away. Your breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, your chest heaving with the effort.

Get it out. Get it out.

You couldn’t stop the spiral of thoughts, the feeling of complete and utter violation.

Then, the sound of hurried footsteps.

Through your tear-blurred vision, you saw Sylus rush into the bathroom, his eyes locking onto you instantly. His calm demeanor was gone, replaced by concern. He took in the scene—the scattered tests, the crumpled pregnancy box, and you, curled up on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

His expression softened as he knelt down beside you, his hands reaching out as though to comfort you, to soothe your trembling body. “Shh…,” he murmured, his voice calm, almost tender, as he tried to get closer to you. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

But the sound of his voice—that voice—only sent another wave of fury through you. You recoiled from him, your body jerking away as his hands hovered too close, your head snapping up as you glared through tear-stained eyes.

“No!” you screamed, your voice raw and broken. “Don’t touch me!”

Sylus froze, his hands still hovering near you, but his face remained composed, watching your every move, your every tear with that same unsettling patience.

“You did this to me!” The words ripped from your throat, your voice shaking as you let the sobs tear through you again. “You put a parasite in me! It’s feeding off me! I hate you! I hate you!” Your body convulsed with the weight of your anger, your fear, your disgust.

Sylus didn’t flinch. His eyes darkened for just a moment as your words hit him, but he didn’t respond with anger. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice lowering as he spoke, "Honey. It’s okay. You’re overwhelmed. Let me help you.”

The tenderness in his voice only made your skin crawl more, and you pulled away again, pushing yourself against the wall as if it could somehow protect you from him. But you knew better. There was no escaping Sylus, not anymore.

“Get away from me!” you sobbed, your voice cracking under the strain. “I don’t want your help! You’ve ruined everything! You’ve taken everything from me! And now you’ve put this—this thing inside me!”

His face remained impassive, but there was something behind his eyes now—a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place. “It’s not a thing,” he said softly, inching closer again, though still careful not to touch you yet. “It’s a child, sweetie. Our child.”

Those words sent a violent shiver through you, and your stomach turned. Our child. The thought made you feel like you were suffocating. Your breaths grew more frantic, your body trembling harder as the sobs became desperate gasps. No. You couldn’t accept that. You wouldn’t.

“You’ve trapped me,” you whispered, your voice shaking with anger, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. “You’ve ruined my life. I’ll never forgive you for this. Never.”

"You were planning to forgive me?" he asked, half jokingly and half confused. You don't respond immediately glaring at him for a few short seconds, as if trying to force his existence away altogether.

"Fuck off!"

Sylus remained calm, even as you spat your words at him, even as you screamed your hatred in his face. He sat back slightly, watching you crumble before him. He didn’t respond with cruelty, nor did he try to argue. He simply waited, his gaze never leaving you, his presence like a suffocating blanket that you couldn’t escape. You hated him for it—hated how composed he was, how in control he remained even as you fell apart at his feet.

He let your sobs fill the room, let you scream and cry and tremble, but eventually, when your voice grew hoarse and the tears ran dry, he leaned closer again, this time more confident in his movements. He reached out, this time taking your face gently in his hands, his thumb brushing the stray tears from your cheeks.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Sylus murmured, his voice calm, steady. “But you will understand. In time.”

Your body went rigid at his touch, but you didn’t have the strength to pull away anymore. You were too drained, too broken. The weight of it all had settled into your bones, and you felt like there was nothing left inside of you but emptiness. Even the rage had flickered out, leaving you with nothing but a hollow pit of despair.

“Let me help you,” Sylus said again, his hands still holding your face, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “I know you’re scared. I know this wasn’t what you wanted. But you’ll see, sweetie. This child—they will change everything.”

His words made your blood boil again, but the fight had gone out of you. All you could do was stare up at him, your body trembling, tears still streaking down your face. The cold tile pressed against your back, grounding you in this horrible reality. You were trapped. Bound to him in a way you could never escape.

And he knew it.

Sylus’s hands stayed steady on your face, his touch far too gentle for the storm raging inside you. You felt like you were breaking apart, crumbling in his grip, but even through the haze of tears and anger, he remained composed, calm. His thumb brushed away the tears still spilling from your eyes, and he let out a soft sigh.

"I don’t like seeing you cry," he murmured, his voice a low hum that seemed to reverberate through the small bathroom. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours, unblinking. "But if you must…then cry on me."

His words made your heart clench painfully, the bile rising in your throat again as the weight of his command—no, his offer—settled over you. Cry on him? The thought disgusted you, but you were too exhausted, too torn apart to resist any longer. The sobs were still clawing at your throat, your body shaking with the effort of trying to keep them down. You hated him. You hated him so much, but he was the only thing there, the only thing keeping you tethered to reality in this moment, twisted as that reality had become.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, your forehead pressing into his chest as the tears came again, harder this time. Your fists clenched against the fabric of his shirt, your sobs muffled against him as you shook uncontrollably. It felt like your mind was unraveling, slipping away from you, and you hated that he was the only option you had for any semblance of comfort. Sylus. The man who had orchestrated all of this.

You despised him, and yet…you clung to him. There was no one else.

You had no other choice.

Your sobs came in waves, each one more broken than the last, your body wracked with the force of your grief. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you in closer, holding you tightly against him. His hand began stroking your back, slow and deliberate, the movement meant to soothe, to quiet the storm inside of you. And it made your skin crawl, made you want to tear away from him, but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

He leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against your hair as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t how you wanted it, but…I love you.” His voice was gentle, almost tender, and the sound of it only made the nausea twist harder in your stomach.

"I love you," he repeated softly, like a promise, his fingers tracing slow, calming circles on your back. "I can’t wait to hold our baby. Half you, half me…perfect."

Your body stiffened at his words, bile rising again, but you didn’t move. You didn’t have the strength. Instead, you cried harder into his chest, the fabric of his shirt wet with your tears as you tried to block out what he was saying, tried to close off the part of your mind that was registering the sheer genuineness in his voice.

He sounded…excited. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was about to start crying.

Disgust rolled through you like a wave, but it was smothered by the exhaustion that had settled deep into your bones. How could he be excited about this? How could he speak so softly, so sweetly, about something so wrong? So vile? You hated him for it. Hated the way he talked about this baby, this thing inside of you, as if it were some dream come true.

"I can’t wait to see what our baby will be like," Sylus continued, his voice warm with anticipation. His hand never stopped its slow, soothing path along your back. "Regardless, they'll be beautiful, Just like you."

You wanted to scream at him. To pull away, to tear yourself out of his grasp and run as far as you could. But the reality was too suffocating, too crushing. Your body wouldn’t move, wouldn’t obey your mind. You were frozen in his arms, forced to listen to him speak about a future you couldn’t even begin to imagine, a future you wanted no part of.

"I don't want to give birth" you sob into his shirt, gripping your fists tighter.

"I know you’re scared," he whispered, his lips close to your ear now, his breath warm against your skin. "But I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of both of you."

His words were like poison, slowly sinking into your mind, and you wanted to shove them away, to reject every syllable. But his hand on your back, his arms around you—it was all so steady, so calm. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t forcing you. He was just… there. Waiting for you to break.

"I’m sorry," Sylus murmured again, his voice soft, but full of that dark possessiveness you had come to dread. "But this…this is how it had to be. Things are just a little hard right now. Soon, you’ll see just how beautiful your life will be." His fingers stroked the back of your head gently, his voice a constant, maddening reassurance.

Your sobs began to quiet, but only because you had no energy left to cry. You hated him. God, you hated him. Every word he spoke made your stomach twist with revulsion, and yet, the sobs were now muffled against him, your body leaning into his, helpless in your own weakness.

"I love you," Sylus whispered one last time, his lips brushing against your temple. "And I love them too. Our little family."

A shudder ran through you, your heart breaking under the weight of his words. Our family. It sounded so wrong. So twisted. But he spoke with such genuine tenderness, with such sincerity, that it made your skin crawl. He meant it. He actually meant it.

And you were trapped.

Tied to him by something you never wanted, something that was now a part of you, growing inside you, linking you to him in a way you could never escape.

You finally tore yourself away from him, the anger bubbling up inside you until it felt like it would consume you whole. His touch felt like a poison, seeping into your skin, suffocating you. You stumbled out of his arms, putting as much distance between the two of you as your weakened body would allow. Disgusting freak. The words echoed over and over in your mind, ringing in your ears like a relentless drumbeat. This monster. He had done this to you. He had planted something inside you.

Your feet moved without you thinking, chain noisily dragging on the floor, carrying you out of the bathroom and toward the bed as if you could somehow escape the nightmare unfolding around you. He put a monster inside me. The thought made your stomach churn, your head spinning as you tried to grasp the enormity of it all. You were trapped. Trapped by him, by your own body, and now by this…thing growing inside you.

You could feel the bile rising in your throat again, the nausea twisting your insides into painful knots. You leaned over the bed, clutching the edge of the mattress as your body heaved, but this time it wasn’t just the nausea—it was the sheer revulsion, the overwhelming sense of betrayal. He had taken everything from you. Your freedom. Your choices. And now, he had taken control of your body in the most horrifying way imaginable.

Your mind raced, grasping for a way out, any way out. Hunger strike. You could starve yourself. You could stop eating, let your body waste away until there was nothing left for it to feed on. Maybe then, this nightmare would end. But the thought only lingered for a moment before another, darker idea crept in. Hot showers. You had read somewhere that pregnant women weren’t supposed to take hot showers. Could that work? Could you force your body to reject this thing inside you?

Your mind spiraled, the possibilities flashing through your thoughts in quick, frantic bursts, none of them staying long enough to feel real. You didn’t know if it would work. You didn’t know if any of this would work. But you had to try, didn’t you? You couldn’t let this happen. You couldn’t let Sylus win.

A sharp wave of nausea hit you again, pulling you back to the present, and you gagged, clutching the bed for support as your body threatened to betray you once more. You wanted to vomit, to purge this feeling, this sickness, to purge the very thought of what was happening to you. Maybe you should vomit all over the bed. It would serve him right. His pristine, perfect bed, ruined by the very thing he had caused.

But before you could move, before you could make the decision to act, you heard him behind you.

“Easy, honey.” His voice was soft, infuriatingly gentle, and the sound of it sent a violent shiver down your spine. You felt his hands on you again, his touch light but firm as he gently turned you around, guiding you back toward the bathroom with a patience that made your stomach twist even more.

Why is he doing this? You couldn’t understand it. Your mind couldn’t process the calmness, the care in his movements. After everything he’s done. After all the control he’d exerted over you, the pain, the manipulation…why was he being gentle now? Why was he acting like he cared?

Before you could think any further, your body betrayed you. The nausea you had been holding back surged forward, and before you could stop it, the vomit spilled from your mouth, coating Sylus’s shirt and splattering onto the floor below. The bile burned your throat, and for a moment, you were too shocked to react, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Your heart stopped, panic surging through you as your mind caught up to what had just happened. Shit. You stared at the mess you had made, your body frozen in place as you waited for the inevitable. He’s going to lose it. You had just vomited all over him, all over his perfect, controlled exterior. Surely this would snap his calm. Surely this would make him angry.

But to your utter shock, Sylus didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all. His face remained impassive, his expression as calm and composed as it had been moments ago, as though the vomit on his shirt didn’t even register.

“Do you feel better at least, honey?” His voice was filled with amusement, almost soothing, as if this were just another normal moment between the two of you, as if you hadn’t just thrown up all over him.

You stared at him in disbelief, your breath still shaky as your mind tried to process what was happening. How can he be so calm? He's seriously asking if you feel better after throwing up on him? You couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but give a small, weak nod, your body still trembling from the exertion of vomiting. You did feel better after that...not just physically, the nausea settling at last. Something about seeing Sylus covered in vomit, something he was the indirect cause of, was satisfying.

Sylus let out a low, amused laugh, his eyes softening as he watched you. “Good, that's all I care about” he said simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Without another word, he pulled the vomit-covered shirt over his head, tossing it aside in one fluid motion. His chiseled chest and abs were now fully visible, and despite the disgust still swirling in your gut, you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed with heat. You quickly averted your gaze, hating the way your body reacted to the sight of him, hating that even now, after everything, your body still betrayed you.

But Sylus didn’t seem to notice your reaction. Or at least, pretended not to notice. He reached out again, his touch gentle as he guided you back toward the bed. “Come on, lie down,” he said softly, his voice laced with that same unsettling tenderness. “I’ll clean this up. Don’t worry about it.”

You hesitated, the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. You didn’t want to do what he said, didn’t want to follow his instructions, but your body had reached its limit. The fight had drained out of you, leaving you feeling like an empty shell, hollow and spent. Without another word, you collapsed onto the bed, your limbs heavy and weak as you sank into the soft mattress.

As you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but watch him through teary, half-lidded eyes. You expected him to be angry, to snap at you, to make you clean up the mess you had made, but instead, Sylus crouched down and began cleaning up the vomit with meticulous care. He wiped the floor with a towel after spraying some kind of cleaner, his movements precise and deliberate, as though this were just another part of his daily routine.

Why is he doing this? The question gnawed at you, tearing at the edges of your sanity. Why is he being so gentle? So calm. Shouldn’t he be yelling at you? Shouldn’t he be furious that you had ruined his shirt, that you had made such a mess? But there he was, calmly wiping the floor, acting like none of it bothered him in the slightest.

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

As you lay there, your body still trembling from the effort of vomiting, you felt a strange sense of detachment settle over you. You were watching him clean up your mess, watching him act like he cared, and it was like you were seeing it all from a distance. He’s supposed to be your captor. He’s supposed to be the monster that destroyed your life, the one who took away everything you cared about.

So why…why was he going to such lengths to take care of you? Especially after ignoring you for days and days on end before his trip?

The questions swirled in your mind, each one more unsettling than the last, but you were too tired, too overwhelmed to find any answers. You hated him. You despised him for what he had done to you. And yet…here he was, gently cleaning up after you, tending to you like you were something precious, something fragile.

When he finished, Sylus turned to you, his expression softening as his eyes met yours. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate as he sat down on the edge of the bed beside you.

“Feeling any better? I have plenty more shirts for you to vomit on if the answer is no” he joked, his voice gentle, almost kind.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. The words stuck in your throat, tangled with the confusion and anger and exhaustion that had settled deep in your chest. Instead, you stared up at him, your tear-filled eyes searching his face for any sign of malice, any trace of the cruelty you had come to expect from him.

But there was none. Just that same calm, that same unsettling tenderness that made your skin crawl.

Sylus reached out, his hand brushing the damp hair away from your face. His touch was gentle, soothing, and you wanted to pull away, to scream at him, but your body wouldn’t obey. You were too tired. Too drained. So you let him touch you, let him stroke your hair as you lay there, staring up at him with a mix of hatred and confusion.

“Rest, kitten,” Sylus murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You've had a long day.”

As he continued to stroke your hair, you felt your body begin to relax against your will, the exhaustion pulling you under like a heavy blanket. You hated him. God, you hated him. But you couldn’t fight anymore. Not now.

And as your eyelids grew heavier, the last thought that flickered through your mind was one you couldn’t shake:

Are monsters capable of love?

You were running.

The world around you was a blur, dark and suffocating, your feet pounding against the ground as you sprinted forward. The only sound filling the air was the piercing cry of the baby in your arms—a sound so loud, so shrill, it felt like it was splitting your skull. You tried to hush it, tried to quiet the wailing, but the baby’s cries only grew louder, more insistent, drowning out everything else. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest as you clutched the baby closer, but it was no use.

You couldn’t escape.

No matter how fast you ran, no matter how far you went, he was always behind you. Sylus. You could feel him closing in, his presence pressing down on you like a heavy shadow, lurking just beyond the edge of your vision. You couldn’t keep away from him like this—not with the baby. The weight of it slowed you down, its cries echoing in your ears, making it impossible to think, impossible to escape.

You needed to get rid of it.

Your eyes darted around, frantically searching for somewhere—anywhere—to put the baby. Your heart raced faster, your pulse thundering in your ears as you looked for a way out, for a place to hide. And then, you saw it: a box. An old, weathered box sitting in the shadows, half-open as if it were waiting for you.

Without thinking, you stumbled toward it, your legs trembling beneath you as you approached. You looked down at the baby in your arms, its face red and scrunched up as it screamed, its tiny hands clutching at your clothes, and for a moment, a flicker of guilt tugged at the edges of your mind. But this is the only way. You had to get rid of it. You couldn’t keep running, not with this weight dragging you down.

The box seemed to beckon you, and with shaking hands, you placed the baby inside. Its cries grew louder, more desperate, echoing off the walls as you closed the lid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You couldn’t look back. You couldn’t let the guilt stop you.

The baby’s screams filled the air, shrill and deafening, but you turned away.

You took a step, then another, walking further and further from the box. The cries became distant, muffled, as if the sound was being swallowed by the darkness. It’s over. The baby was gone. You were free.

But then…a voice.

It was small, almost childlike, but laced with something dark, something that sent a chill racing down your spine.

“How could you leave me, Mommy?”

You froze, your heart stopping in your chest as the words hung in the air. Slowly, you turned, your breath catching in your throat as you looked back at the box. The baby’s cries had stopped. Silence pressed down on you, thick and heavy, making the air around you feel too dense to breathe.

“Don’t you love me?” the voice continued, and you felt your blood run cold. The lid of the box creaked open, and your heart sank. You wanted to run, but your legs wouldn’t move. You were rooted to the spot, helpless as the baby climbed out, but it wasn’t a baby anymore.

It had changed.

The thing that crawled out of the box was no longer the small, fragile infant you had left behind. Its body had twisted, morphed into something grotesque. Its skin was pitch black and sickly, its limbs too long, its eyes too wide and gleaming with a cruel intelligence.

The baby—the monster—fixed its gaze on you, a twisted smile stretching across its face. “You’re the monster, not me,” it hissed, its voice dripping with venom. “You’re the one who abandoned me. You’re the one who doesn’t care.”

You stumbled back, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the creature advanced on you, its twisted body contorting as it moved. You wanted to scream, wanted to turn and run, but your body wouldn’t obey. You were paralyzed with fear, trapped in the nightmare as the creature’s words pierced through you.

The creature lunged at you, its clawed hands reaching out, its sharp teeth bared. “You’re the monster!” it screamed, its voice echoing in your mind, the accusation burning into your thoughts as it leaped forward.

And then everything went black.

You jolted awake, your body drenched in sweat, your heart racing as though it were about to burst from your chest.

You held a trembling hand to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart after the nightmare. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, your skin still damp with sweat. Just a nightmare. Another horrible, twisted nightmare. You should’ve been relieved that it wasn’t real, but the fear clung to you, refusing to let go. What if the dreams kept getting worse?

The memory of the baby—no, the monster—flashed in your mind. It had lunged at you, screaming that you were the monster. You shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to push the image away. It was just a dream, nothing more. But why did it feel so real? And why did it feel like it was more than just your imagination running wild?

You hadn’t wanted to sleep in the first place. The only reason you’d fallen asleep at all was because of your outburst earlier having taken all your energy. The exhaustion had finally pulled you under, but instead of the relief you craved, it had brought you nothing but torment. Awful, suffocating dreams that clung to you even now.

Your hand drifted down to your belly, and you hesitated, unsure of what you were even feeling for.

Are you even real?

The thought echoed in your mind, your fingers hovering over your stomach as if touching it would make it all real, too real. Maybe the test had been wrong. Maybe this was all some twisted lie Sylus had fed you.

But then, another, more terrifying thought crossed your mind. When would you feel it move? The idea made your stomach churn with nausea again. The thought of something growing inside you, something moving, living… it made you want to crawl out of your own skin. You pressed your hand harder against your stomach, as if trying to confirm or deny the existence of this thing.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps, and before you could react, the door opened. Sylus shuffled in, a plate of waffles balanced in his hands. His presence filled the room, his footsteps soft but heavy enough to send a chill down your spine. The smell of syrup and cinnamon filled the air.

"Another bad dream?" he asked, his voice far too gentle for the weight of the situation. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to acknowledge him, but you found yourself nodding despite the effort it took to keep yourself together.

Sylus set the plate down in front of you, the smell of food wafting up, making your stomach turn again. You couldn’t even think about eating, not after the dream, not after the terrifying thought of something moving inside you. You didn't want to eat. Didn't want to nourish the beast inside you. But you stayed silent, gripping the blanket in your lap as you tried to focus on anything but the food or the man standing so close.

He sat beside you, his fingers reaching out to gently stroke your hair, as if this were all so normal, as if you weren’t crumbling from the inside. His touch made your skin crawl, but you didn’t have the strength to push him away.

"I want you to take another test," he said softly, his hand continuing its slow, deliberate strokes through your hair. "No worries, it won’t be the ones you threw on the floor."

You gulped, your throat suddenly dry, dread settling like a stone in your stomach. Another test. You didn’t want to face the reality you were so desperately trying to avoid. Once was enough, wasn’t it? You had already seen those two faint pink lines that had shattered your world. But now, you’d have to face it again.

You said nothing, staying silent as you stared at the plate in front of you, your mind racing. Sylus didn’t seem bothered by your lack of response. His fingers never stopped stroking your hair, a twisted form of comfort that only made you feel more trapped.

"I’d estimate you’re about four weeks and four days pregnant right now, sweetie," he continued, his voice soft, almost as if he were talking about the weather. "At about six to seven weeks, I’m having a doctor come here to do an ultrasound. We’ll also hear the baby’s heartbeat."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Ultrasound. Heartbeat. The reality of it felt like it was closing in on you, suffocating you. Your mind reeled at the thought of it—of hearing something inside you. Something that was half him.

You stared at the food, your appetite gone completely now, your chest tightening as you fought the rising panic. You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to see it. You didn’t want any of this. But Sylus was already talking about the future, about this baby, like it was a certainty, like it was his dream coming to life.

You felt like screaming, but the words caught in your throat, trapped by the fear and helplessness. All you could do was sit there, nodding numbly as he continued to stroke your hair, his voice a constant reminder that you were trapped in this nightmare.

You finally mustered the courage to speak, your voice trembling as the words left your mouth. “How do you know how far along I am? Are you secretly an OB-GYN or something?”

For a moment, the room hung in silence, thick and heavy with tension. Sylus’s eyes flickered with amusement before he let out a soft, almost casual laugh, like the question had genuinely entertained him. The sound of it made your stomach churn, the lightness of his reaction so at odds with the fear gnawing at your insides.

“No, kitten,” he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with that familiar confidence that always left you on edge. “I told you. I’ve been tracking your period and ovulation.”

Your body froze. His words were like ice flooding your veins, your blood running cold as realization sank in. You felt yourself recoil, the room suddenly too small, too suffocating. Every muscle in your body tensed, the nausea swelling in your gut as the full weight of what he had just said hit you.

It wasn’t just some twisted joke. He had actually been tracking you—monitoring your body like it was a tool, like he was a puppeteer pulling invisible strings. He knew. Every detail. Every cycle. Every moment when your body had been vulnerable, he had been watching, waiting.

Your thoughts raced back to the night of your so-called “punishment,” the sex had seemed far too strange and easy to even really be considered a real punishment. You had been ovulating that day and he knew it. Now it all made sense. He planned everything. He had known what he was doing—carefully orchestrating every move like a sick game. You had thought he was cruel before, but this… this was something else. Something beyond cruelty.

You felt like your skin was crawling. He had planned it all, down to the most intimate detail of your body. The air felt too thick, your chest too tight as you struggled to breathe, your mind scrambling for some way to make sense of the horror of it all.

"Freak."

The word slipped from your lips, barely more than a whisper, but it carried every ounce of your disgust, your revulsion. You pushed the plate of waffles away from you, the sight and smell of food turning your stomach even more. How could you eat? How could you even stomach the idea of him feeding you after knowing the full extent of his manipulation?

But Sylus only chuckled again, the sound light and unfazed, as if your insult hadn’t landed at all. He picked up the fork and speared a piece of waffle, lifting it toward you with a grin that made your blood boil.

“Don’t be like that, kitten,” he coaxed, his tone playful, teasing, as though he hadn’t just shattered your world with his confession. He held the fork out to you, the piece of waffle balanced delicately on the end as if this were some kind of intimate gesture.

“Come on. Eat.”

You stared at him, your eyes wide with disbelief, your stomach twisting in knots. How could he be so casual, so calm about all of this? You wanted to knock the fork out of his hand, to scream at him, to make him see the rage and fear burning inside you, but the words caught in your throat.

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, your voice weak but filled with defiance. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. The idea of accepting anything from him right now made you feel sick. You turned your head away, trying to block him out, your hands clenched so tightly in your lap that your nails dug painfully into your palms.

Sylus didn’t seem the least bit surprised by your refusal. He set the fork down on the plate, his movements calm and deliberate, his eyes never leaving you. His expression didn’t change. The amusement lingered in his gaze, but there was something else there now—something darker, something more determined.

“You can’t starve the baby,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more serious tone. The calmness in his voice made the words all the more chilling. “I won’t let you.”

The room seemed to grow colder, his words wrapping around you like a vice, squeezing tighter with every breath. Starve the baby. It was as if he had reached inside your mind, plucked the very thought you were trying to bury, and laid it out in front of you like a threat. He knew. He knew what you were thinking, what you were hoping for. And he wasn’t going to let you escape.

Your stomach dropped, the weight of his control pressing down on you like a physical force. There was no escape. You couldn’t starve the baby. You couldn’t do anything. He was right there, always one step ahead, already planning every outcome. He wasn’t angry—he didn’t need to be. The threat was already clear.

Sylus leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking with yours, his voice steady and unwavering. “I’ll take care of you,” he said softly, his tone almost gentle, but the underlying authority was unmistakable. “You and the baby. No matter what you do, I’ll be here.”

You could feel the rage building in your chest, bubbling up like a storm ready to break, but it was trapped beneath the suffocating weight of his words. The hopelessness. The helplessness. You wanted to scream, to lash out, to fight—but the exhaustion was already pulling you down, drowning you in the realization that there was no way out.

You glared at him, your teeth gritted, your hands trembling from the sheer force of holding back the torrent of emotions. But Sylus remained calm, his gaze unwavering, patient. He didn’t need to push. He didn’t need to force you. He knew he had already won.

Your thoughts raced, swirling in chaos, the air thick with tension. Your mind kept flashing to the nightmare, the baby’s cries morphing into screams, accusing you of being the monster. You couldn’t bear the thought of this thing growing inside you, something that would tie you to him forever.

But Sylus sat there, watching you, his expression a mixture of amusement and something far more sinister. He wasn’t going to let you escape this. He wasn’t going to let you do anything to harm the baby.

His baby.

And you knew, in that moment, that there was no fighting him. He was in control of everything—your body, your choices, your future.

“Eat,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words felt like chains binding you to him.

And as the silence settled in the room, you felt the walls close in, the hopelessness creeping in around you, suffocating you.

Your hands clenched into fists, your body shaking with a violent, rising fury. No. Fuck him. Fuck this baby. You couldn’t stomach the idea of giving in to his control, not again. You couldn’t let him win. If he was going to force you into this, so be it. You’d fight him every step of the way.

“I’m not eating,” you spat, your voice raw with anger. The defiance in your words was the last shred of resistance you had left, but you clung to it like a lifeline. You glared at him, trying to summon every ounce of strength to hold your ground. “I don’t care what you do. I won’t do this. I won’t be your prisoner, and I won’t nourish this—this thing.”

Sylus didn’t flinch. His face didn’t even shift. Instead, his lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement that made your skin crawl. There was no frustration in his expression, no anger, just the unnerving calm of someone who was always ten steps ahead. He had anticipated this. He had expected it. And that knowledge made your stomach turn, a chill crawling down your spine.

“Sweetie,” he said softly, his voice far too calm for the storm of emotions raging inside you. He tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating his next words carefully. “You have two choices. Either you eat and nourish the baby...or Xavier dies.”

The name hit you like a punch to the gut. All the air rushed from your lungs, your body going cold as the words sank in. Xavier. Your heart stuttered, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to collapse. You stared at Sylus, wide-eyed and trembling, the room spinning around you.

“No,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you tried to process what he had just said. “No…you’ve killed him anyway! I won’t fall for your tricks!” You needed to believe it—to convince yourself that Xavier was already gone, that Sylus was lying, manipulating you. That this was just another one of his mind games.

But the way he was looking at you, so calm, so sure—it made you doubt. It made you fear.

“Actually,” Sylus cooed, his voice dripping with condescension. “Xavier is very much alive. He’s been looking for you. Quite the determined man, I’ll give him that.”

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest, but you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. No. He’s lying. “You’re lying!” you screamed, your voice filled with desperation. “You’re trying to mess with my head!”

Sylus’s eyes gleamed with amusement, his lips curving into that same, unnerving smile. “Sweetie,” he said, his voice low and calm, but there was an edge to it now. “I am many things, but a liar to you? I am not. Do you really think that?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the words catching before you could respond. Of course you thought he was a liar. He was a manipulator, a monster. But something about the way he said it—the confidence, the certainty—made your blood run cold.

Before you could say anything, Sylus stood up, leaving the room without another word. You sat there, frozen, your heart pounding in your chest, the echo of Xavier’s name still ringing in your ears. He’s alive? No way. Sylus was playing with you. He had to be.

Moments later, the door creaked open again, and Sylus returned—holding something in his hand. You squinted, trying to make sense of it, and then you saw it. Your phone.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked onto the familiar case. Your phone. You hadn’t seen it in what felt like an eternity. It was as if a piece of your old life had been placed right in front of you, a stark reminder of the world outside of this nightmare.

Sylus walked closer, the phone dangling loosely from his fingers as he watched your reaction with a smug, knowing smile. He unlocked it with ease, swiping across the screen with fluid movements, and it didn’t surprise you in the slightest that he knew your passcode. Of course he did. He always knew everything.

But then, he turned the screen toward you.

Your breath stopped in your chest as you saw the text message on the screen, your heart thundering in your ears. The words stared back at you, sharp and undeniable:

“I am coming, my love. When you read this, we will be together again.”

Your hands flew to your mouth as a gasp escaped your lips. Xavier. He was alive. He was alive and looking for you. The realization hit you like a wave, crashing into you with such force that tears sprang to your eyes. All the fear, all the desperation you had bottled up came flooding out. He was still out there.

But Sylus…Sylus had him in his sights.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “Leave him alone, you bastard!” The tears spilled over, running down your cheeks as you shook with a mixture of rage and despair. “Don’t you dare hurt him! Please!”

Sylus looked at you pitifully, his eyes softening as if your tears were hurting him. But you could see the satisfaction underneath it all, the way his lips curled just slightly at the edges. “You both love that nickname,” he said with a mocking sigh, as if indulging in a private joke.

“He had similar things to say when I talked to him.”

Your blood ran cold at the thought of Sylus getting anywhere near Xavier. He had spoken to him. Sylus had gotten close enough to Xavier to make him suffer. You clenched your fists, shaking with anger at the thought of the man you loved being at the mercy of this monster.

“Stay away from him!” you yelled, your voice cracking with the intensity of your emotions. You wanted to leap out of bed, to fight, but your body felt weak, your limbs heavy with hopelessness. “If you touch him, I swear I’ll—”

Sylus held up a hand, cutting you off mid-sentence. His eyes darkened, the playfulness vanishing in an instant as he looked at you with cold, unwavering authority. “Eat,” he said firmly, the command in his voice clear and sharp. “I won’t repeat myself.”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

“If you kill our baby,” Sylus continued, his voice low and deliberate, “I kill him. Pretty fair, wouldn't you agree?”

The weight of his words sank into you like a stone, pulling you down into a pit of despair. You felt the ground fall away beneath you, the walls closing in as the finality of the situation crashed over you. This was it. There was no escape. If you didn’t obey, if you didn’t nourish this baby growing inside of you, Sylus would kill Xavier.

You could barely breathe, your chest tightening as the tears continued to flow down your cheeks. You hated him. You hated him so much it burned inside you like fire, but you couldn’t let him kill Xavier. You couldn’t.

With shaking hands, you reached for the fork, your vision blurred by tears. The weight of the utensil in your hand felt like a death sentence, like the final seal on the prison that had become your life. Your fingers trembled as you lifted the fork, your stomach twisting with disgust, but you couldn’t stop. You had to do this.

You stabbed the piece of waffle on the plate, your tears dripping onto the table as you brought the food to your mouth. It tasted like ash, like poison, as you forced yourself to chew. Your body revolted against it, every instinct screaming for you to spit it out, to reject it, but you couldn’t. You had no choice.

As you swallowed the bite of food, more tears slipped down your face. You felt hopeless, broken, the fight drained from you as you sat there, silently crying.

Sylus watched you, his eyes calm and satisfied. He leaned down slightly, brushing a hand through your hair, his voice soft and tender now.

“Good girl.”

You wanted to scream, but all that came out were silent sobs. You gripped the fork tighter, your knuckles losing all blood, as you prayed. Prayed that Xavier would find you.

“Hurry,” you whispered under your breath, your voice choked with emotion. “Please. Hurry.”

But deep down, the gnawing fear clawed at your heart—you knew there was no outrunning Sylus.

And as the silence stretched between you, the crushing weight of your reality settled over you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you gasping for breath.

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

648 notes · View notes

justastraymoa · 6 months ago

Text

Written Fics

Unwilling Alpha

A/B/O fic with Y/n as A and Stray Kids as their O's

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation panic attack description.

A/b/o dynamics and world building ish things

Male pregnancy

Yet Unnamed

Soulmark fic

Warnings for Yet Unnamed: Kidnapping, cuffs, injuries, drugging by injection, mentions of needles, lots of swearing, kissing, fluff, angst, idiots in love all around.

Teaser | 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

Something to be Soft for

A/B/O fic OT8 x Y/n. Alpha Chan. Betas Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Han. Omegas Y/n, Felix, Seungmin, and I.N.

Ch 1. | Ch 2. | Ch 3. | Ch 4.

Ko-fi fund

352 notes · View notes

sweetbunpura · 4 months ago

Note

After rushing out of Nimbus, Rollo and the Shroud brother was approached by Malleus

Malleus: Where is child of man

Ortho: She was there she is currently in……

Round 8! The finale!

Start - Daydreamers (Ch. 2) - Junglehearts (Ch.3) - Aqualetta (Ch. 4) - Potential (Ch.5) - Nevemela (Ch.6) - Nimbus (Ch.7)

Verasavi

"Verasavi." Rollo finished for Ortho. "I told her to stay there as we were on our way."

"Verasavi...." Malleus kept his face straight. "The Prince..."

"She's with Phara?" Lilia added in.

Idia nodded. "Yeah, and I think the guy is still old fashion, so he might not let her go with us 'Villains.'"

"Flamme, we're going to retrieve her immediately."

"You do not have to tell me twice."

Rollo and Malleus moved towards the final portal with a rose etched into the emblem before Lilia could try and reign them both back in.

"Oh crumpets. Silver, Sebek, come on."

"What vile person must this 'Phara' be to kidnap the human?" Sebek ask as they joined the others through the portals.

Silver answered. "I've only met him once, during the summit between RSA and NRC dorm and vice leaders. He and Malleus.... did not get along."

"He didn't get along with Waka-sama!?"

"No. Phara is a prince of a small city a little bit north of Briar Valley." Lilia explained. "He was raised to be very old fashion and on the tales of the hero bests the beast and saves the woman."

"He sees him as a beast!?"

"Yes."

They arrived on the other side of the portal and were greeted by the sounds of a gentle silence of the forest and the calmness of the cottage village in front of them. Malleus and Rollo were already a few feet ahead, as they rushed to join them, someone suddenly stepped in front of the pair.

"Draconia."

"Little Prince."

Phara stood in front of them, brown eyes narrowed at Malleus as his hand rested on the sword at his hip. If it wasn't for his eye color, Rollo might've mistaken Phara for being Silver.

"I assume you and your vile party are here for the princess."

"Call us vile all you want, but we're not the ones who kidnapped her." Malleus glared at Phara. "If I do recall, it was your classmates that did that."

"Count Neige and Sir Che'nya have already had their talk." Phara crossed his arms. "But I will fight you if you've come for her hand."

"I did not come here for a fight, only to retrieve Child of Man." Malleus raised his hand as a green fire appeared in the center of it. "But if you wish to start a battle, so be it."

"Malleus."

"Phara!"

Lilia and an a Ox Beastman stood between the pair before they could start. Rollo found his eyes focused on the beastman as he took in his tall stature and dark skin tone. His horns were visible even against the long and messy locks of his brown hair.

"Ram, kindly move out of the way."

"Lilia, please move to the side."

Lilia sighed. "You know this is the last thing she would want."

Ram easily towered over Phara. "If it weren't for the warning messages I've received from the others, I wouldn't have found out about what was happening."

Phara huffed. "Warning? What could they possibly warn you about?"

"Do you not see the fight you're about to start?"

"I'm not letting her go back with these villains!"

"Phara, what does our dorm represent?"

"....Is this what Riley calls a rhetorical question?"

"Answer."

"True Love."

Ram bent down. "And what are you keeping her from?"

"....She's dating someone?" Phara looks at Malleus. "Him?"

The beastman stepped aside and gestured to Rollo. "Him."

The moment Phara's eyes moved to look at him, Rollo felt the need to honestly knock the man aside and start searching for Yuu without his help.

"...Him?" He squinted at Rollo before straitening up. "Can't be. Why would she be dating someone so.... skinny looking? Hardly a Knight nor a Prince and not even worth the title of a Lord."

Silver and Sebek coughed as Rollo felt his face begin to heat up.

"This is coming from someone so lacking in common sense, he assume we were nothing more than a gaggle of ne'er-do-wells." He snapped. "So lost in your fantasy of saving the helpless damsel that you failed to realize that she is the further from being as such. I've come to return her home from the kidnappers I see before me. Now step aside, this is my last warning."

"....I had assumed you weren't like these miscreants, but you wear their colors as you own."

"Seven Dammit, Phara!" Ram sighed in exaggeration

Rollo felt his magic a lit, but as quickly as it ramped up, it diffused as he spotted someone running towards them. He knew who it was immediately as he opened his arms and accepted Yuu's tackling hug. Rollo steadied the pair of them as he held her tightly.

"Love."

"I missed you, Rolls."

Phara watched them with wide eyes as Ram's shoulders dropped in relief.

"I...do not understand-"

"Phara."

Phara froze as Malleus and Lilia moved aside to allow Tundra to walk between them with crossed arms. Rollo watched with a sense of smugness as the blond stared down the dorm leader.

"H-hello, my everlasting love...."

"Why did Colt come and get me? Have you been causing problems again?"

"N-no-"

"Phara."

"A .... little?"

Tundra sighed as Colt joined Ram's side, the beastman whispered something to the brunet as his tail wrapped around his hip. The blond turned to face Malleus and the others.

"Please forgive him. He takes it very seriously, which is what I love about him, but it also causes problems." Tundra bowed. "I heard the others were doing the same, I may not speak for the others, but I know a lot of us hope you forgive us."

Malleus shook his head. "We're not the ones who you should be apologizing to, Goldsworth." The fae gestured to a still hugging Yuu and Rollo. "They're the ones you inconvenienced the most."

Tundra grabbed Phara's arm and directed the pair of them to the couple.

"I'm sorry, to both of you." Tundra locked his boyfriend into a headlock and forced him to bow with him.

"I-I apologize as well."

Before Rollo could speak, Yuu turned to look at them and everyone could feel the temperature lower a few degrees.

"You pull this shit again and no one is going to fix what I do to you. If Ram wasn't telling me about you and Tundra, I would've beaten your ass black and blue, Phara." Yuu's voice was cold and unforgiving. "You're very lucky you got your vice to vouch for you. Got it?"

"U-Understood."

"Good." She turned back towards Rollo. "Now take me home. If I stay here any longer, someone is getting punched in the face."

"Glad to have you back, Child of Man." Malleus smiled as they went towards the portal.

Remembering what Phara had said earlier, Rollo picked Yuu up effortlessly in a bridal carry and followed the others. Yuu blinked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What's this for~?"

"I missed you."

"I know you did, but there's something more to this action."

".....He called me skinny."

"Imma beat his ass."

#twisted wonderland #twst fic #rescue from RSA #thorn answers #yuu homura #rollo flamme #sanctuary #RSA oc #twst rsa #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #sebek zigvolt

158 notes · View notes

nonsensenook · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 2 | Coarse Sands, Red Blood

Synopsis: It was unfortunate timing to get kidnapped mid-argument with the Destined One. A continuation from the first chapter of this take on you, the reader, accompanying the Destined One on his journey.

Word Count: 4,112

Warnings: Violence, Mature Content (Heavily Implied)

Author's Note: This was a fun chapter. Thank you for all the support and kindness you've given the last chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3: Link Ch. 1 - Ch. 3 - 3.5 (Optional) - Ch. 4 - Ch.5

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

Getting into an argument with a silent participant was by far the most testing part of the journey. You wanted to believe you had adapted enough to be a true companion rather than an extra-carry on, but the time your companion’s wasted fussing over you made you feel more like a disobedient, sickly child.

At first you could forgive him. You had sustained an injury from a Yaoguai mid-foraging while The Destined One was resting. He hadn’t heard or sensed this one hiding when he had scouted the area. Your cry of pain alerted him, he quickly killed the Yaoguai before looking at your wound. The injury you were given on your arm wasn’t deep, but the way the blood was soaking your clothing had him make a new expression you hadn’t seen before. He was careful when he bandaged you up, every small sound you made when the wound stung would have him freeze midway.

You couldn’t heal as quickly as he could. The drink he’d given you lightened the pain, but the wound still stayed. Since then, he refuses to eat until he is satisfied with the amount that you’ve eaten. The worst of this was when he wouldn’t let you help him out in any way other than advising, not even to dust off sand from your equipment. He would silently urge you to only rest while he took care of any and all preparation that was needed. He no longer lets you out of his sight. Things escalated when he couldn’t take the hint that some more private moments couldn’t be shared. Despite the rising tensions and silent exchanges of meaningful looks, you still managed to find yourself waking up next to him. This only added to your aggravation.

Your wound had long since closed, leaving a scar as a reminder. You know he was doing what he could and what he understood as protecting you. But it only reignited the feeling that you were a helpless human taking up the time of someone with a greater role to play. You tried to convey that you didn’t need to be pampered to this extent. He would take one look at your arm and your efforts would fall on deaf ears.

This time, you were safely stowed away in an abandoned house near a bridge when he went off to fight another powerful Yaoguai. He’d left you frustrated, still ignoring your pleas for him to focus some energy on himself rather than you or this journey. You worried over how he hadn’t been eating or letting himself consistently rest lately. You didn’t know how he could fight while exhausted. Anxiety gripped you as you remembered how tricky this particular opponent was.

You simmered in your worry till a cry of pain from him shot you with dread. You left your hiding place to peek out, watching his fight. You saw the Destined One get knocked back from a blow. He recovered, wiping away blood with the back of his hand. He began charging for an attack. It was a reckless charge, one that was punished before he could even land a hit. His moves were sloppy and poorly timed. You could only watch in horror as he suffered blow after blow. He was fighting distracted. As distracted as you were when someone gagged and bound you from behind. You were thrown over a shoulder and stolen from the fight. The last thing you saw before something covered your head was the Destined One on the ground, breathing heavily, covered in his own blood.

You were transported well away from your companion. Your kicking and thrashing awarded you with arms bound to your ankles, but at least one bruised captor. Your ears picked up hushed voices, feet on sand, then wood, then solid ground. Eventually you heard many voices colliding in an argument and the loud crackling of a large fire.

“This is the human monk said to grant us immortality?” One voice questioned, tone thick with doubt.

“It does not dress like a monk nor act like one, my bruised back can attest to that!” Added another voice.

“We already told you, this is not the same monkey!”

“How many monkeys with a staff traveling with a human have you witnessed?”

Someone pulled the sack off of your head. Blinking in the fading light of dusk, you found yourself kneeling, surrounded by rat yaoguais of different shapes and sizes. Behind you was an abandoned sentry point. A rat guai was stationed right next to you with a large ax handle peeking from his back. In the distance you saw archers watching the entrance ways to this little camp. A bonfire roared at the very center, a fire larger than needed for any ordinary game. You swallowed beneath the cloth that covered your mouth.

“Does this look like a virtuous monk to you?” One rat guai with a missing ear asked, pointing to you contemptuously.

Another rat with a missing eye sneered,“How would you know what virtue looks like, you filthy adulterer?”

A fist connected with a whiskered face. The two rat guais fell into the dirt punching, clawing, and biting. The others around the camp egged them on with fists in the air. You heard some taking bets as drunken laughter mixed in with jeers from the crowd. Your guard was yelling his own insults right next to you. You took the moment to test your bindings, frustrated to find them much too thick to tear and too tight to slip out of.

You thought of your silent companion, fighting the rising fear that came from the last image you saw of him bleeding on the ground. You weren’t sure what dying meant to him in this world. You have yet to witness him fail to confirm anything. If he were to fall in battle would the shrines hold and restore his soul and body? Are the rules different, and if so in what way? What does death mean for the Destined One? You shook your head, forcefully ridding yourself of these thoughts. You knew just how stubborn that monkey is. He would not fall. You needed to breathe. You needed to focus.

Escaping unnoticed was a tall, improbable order. You had a lone guard keeping an eye on you and the archers positioned around the camp wouldn’t let you get that far. You had to make a chance. An idea struck you. It was risky, but when was any plan worth trying not?

The two fighting rat guais in front of you were still rolling in the dirt. The one eyed rat guai then pinned the other down with his knee, forcing its jaws open before spitting into its mouth. The camp erupted into a roar of approval, the winner was awarded with a passed drink. You groaned in disgust.

“Whether or not the human grants immortality, we’d enjoy a fine feast of a rare game either way!” Cried out the one eyed rat guai. Hearty cheers of agreement rang out. You began wiggling against your constraints, speaking beneath your bondage. The rat guai behind you took notice, signaling the winner of the bout over. The rat guai, the leader you assumed, gave the signal to unbind your mouth. You breathed just a little easier. Taking a deep breath, you cleared your throat.

“You cannot eat me,” you said, hoping your voice held an ominous tone, “The homewrecker there is right. I was to be a sacrifice to a spurned Yaoguai. My flesh does not grant immortality, but a curse.”

Several rats exclaimed in surprise, conversations and cries of disgust spread through the group. The leader stepped close, bending down until he was looking you right in the eyes. The rank smell of alcohol and old wounds hit you. His face was covered in old scars, a part of his upper snout was missing, his one red eye watched you unblinking. You showed nothing on your face.

“A clever lie,” he snarled, “You’re a long ways from a sacrificial altar.”

“The monkey I travel with interrupted the ceremony and stole me away. But not before the Yaogaui placed its mark on me.” You turned your arm to him. The leader ripped off your sleeve to reveal your healing scar. The dancing firelight illuminated the worst of its features. Many gasped as several took steps back from you. Your tale made your ordinary scar into a mark of warning; you were tainted meat. The leader looked closely at your scar, you hope the expression you saw momentarily was one of hesitation. A voice spoke up from the group, making the leader turn from you.

“I told you, this wasn’t the right human,” the defeated rat from before pointed to the leader.“Would you have us feast on cursed flesh?” Cries of agreement rose from the crowd. Sides were being taken. With the possibility of a cursed meal being on the line the tensions were higher than before.

The rat guarding you raised a question, “How do we know eating them won’t kill us?” Fear rippled through the group in waves. Some wanted you alive to be consumed, fixated on the potential of immortality. Others wanted you dead, the thought of the curse enough for them to be rid of you. Some were already done with this ordeal, ready to set you off on your way. No one could agree on what to do with you. You saw one rat push another one as debates became arguments. This was it. If one were to pick up a weapon then the rest would follow for sure. They’d tear each other apart. You could find an escape amidst the chaos.

You saw a flash of iron. Someone had picked up a sword. Anticipation turned to cold fear when you saw it slice through the air to point at you.

“Enough!” The leader shouted above the arguing. All beady eyes turned to look at you at the pointed end of a sword.

“Vile thing,” he spat out, angling the edge of his weapon to your throat, “full of lies and deceit. I will prove it to you, brothers. I will take a bite right on that very mark.”

What an absolutely spectacular way for your plan to have backfired. You started moving back only to be pinned down by the rat guai behind you. Your struggles were nothing in his tight grip. Panic sent your heart into your throat.

“Your limbs will rot off your bones, you will wish for a quick death!” You cried, but even to your ears it sounded too desperate and pitifully unconvincing.

Your arms were chafing as you helplessly wrestled against your constraints. He opened his jaws, wide enough to take both your arm and shoulder. You saw his yellowed teeth dripping with saliva. In one quick movement, he bit down. You cried out, bracing yourself for the pain of torn flesh. It never came.

In between the jaws of the rat leader was the end of a staff. You saw broken teeth shatter as gums oozed with blood. The rat leader was forcefully pushed back, howling in pain. The staff was then flipped before smashing against the hand that was pinning you down. The Destined One kicked the rat guard aside, dropping down from the sentry building. A protective arm shielded you while the other corrected the position of his staff.

Relief flooded you like a newfound spring. He had been alright. He had survived his fight. He had made it to you. He spun his staff slowly, readying himself. Someone gave a battle cry. The Young Sage leapt forward.

The sloppy movements you saw earlier weren’t being seen here. He was precise yet viciously ruthless. He was tearing them apart, executing them in ways you hadn’t seen before. Jaws were being broken, bodies of rat guais were being used as shields against archers, you watched as he kicked a rat into someone else’s drawn weapon before executing them both with a blow from his staff. Their bodies dropped then disintegrated one after the other.

He’d killed them all save for one. When he dashed to the last enemy. You finally saw his face illuminated by the firelight. Fangs bared, eyes blazing, his expression was carved into unfiltered fury. You watched as he launched himself upwards, silhouetted by the moon, he spun three times in the air with the last spin having him crash his staff down on the final rat, shattering its skull. Not even a moment before the last enemy was defeated his head flicked to you. In several quick strides he was at your side, tearing apart your restraints with his teeth.

Unbound, your arms immediately found their way around his neck as they’ve done so many times before. Only this time, you weren’t asleep. A sob bubbled up from your throat as you buried your head into his shoulder. The terror of your life being at the end of rat guais tearing at your body was finally allowed to settle in your heart. Just above your fear, you felt elation. You were overjoyed to see him again, alive and safe. You let him go to look him over.

“Are you alright?” You asked, tears flowing freely down your face. “Were you injured? Have you rested at a shrine?” Your hands went to his body, eyes scanning for any injuries. You were interrupted by him pulling you into a tight embrace. As you buried your face into his chest you heard him let out a long, relieved sigh which shook his frame.

The moon was high as he carried you back to camp in his arms. It took a long time for him to be satisfied from inspecting you, especially with your sleeve torn and wound exposed. You didn’t object when he swept you off your feet. The whole ordeal left you completely exhausted. As he carried you, you recounted what happened with the rats to him. He seemed amused at the made up tale you fed the rats. He particularly liked the part where you said he’d taken you from an altar of sacrifice.

“You did just steal me from a feast starring my immortal and or cursed flesh,” you said mischievously. “Who can say what I told was a complete lie?” That got a nice smile from him.

The nights in this barren valley were quick to become cold. Brisk winds sent a shiver through you. The Destined One pulled you a bit closer to him. The waxing moon was high, you listened to the sounds of disturbed sand. In the distance, you heard the call of an owl.

“On that bridge, when you were fighting that Acolyte,” you began, listening to his steady, rhythmic steps, “you weren’t fighting the way you usually do.” The Destined One kept his gaze forward. Realizing what you knew now made you want to cup his cheek to have him look at you. You touched your torn sleeve instead.

“I saw what worrying about me did to you-how it,” you hesitated, “distracted you.” The Destined One’s pace didn’t falter, but from the corner of your eye you saw his tail flicking nervously behind him.

“On any other day I would’ve scolded you, but today I don’t want to be a pot and reduce you to a kettle. If I hadn’t left the place I was hiding this may not have happened,” you took a breath, “But I was afraid…for you.” The Destined One gave you a look that made you want to roll your eyes.

“Yes, I know of all creatures I could worry about, you should be the last of them. I know how strong you are and you’ve proven your might more than enough times but you’re not-you’re-” you steadied yourself, focusing on the way his hands tightened ever so slightly.

You continued,“I don’t know what would happen if you were to fall in battle and I never wish to. It’s not that I believe someone as strong as you would, but the possibility of it alone terrifies me.”

You sighed, letting out a hollow laugh, “That must be what you’ve been feeling all this time since I got hurt and why you started to treat me like a porcelain egg.” The Destined One looked at you. You watched his expression flash from concern to something closer to understanding.

“I can promise you I won’t be doing something that foolish again. Can you promise to stop thinking the next gust of wind would shatter me?” You asked, hand nervously playing with your torn sleeve.

The young monkey took a moment to think about it. You waited while contemplating flicking him on the head if he disagreed. Luckily for him, he did agree by giving you a nod. You smiled at him, pleased. You saw his eyes flick down to your lips. It was so fast you almost didn’t catch it. You didn’t have time to wonder if you imagined it either because in the next moment The Destined One tripped. He reacted quickly, finding his balance again as you clung to his robe. Then he straightened up and continued walking like nothing happened.

You pressed your lips together, failing to suppress a chuckle that escaped you. You looked at your companion, seeing his fur bristle. His usual poker face simply added to the moment. He watched as you laughed, careful with his steps as he returned you to the camp.

The night air had turned frigid. You warmed your hands by the fire then cupped your face to spread the warmth. It doubled as an excuse to hide your expression. With a night like this you knew you’d wake up in his arms again in the morning after your body moves on its own. A thought that filled you with mixed excitement and dread. Since the two of you had returned, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you saw while he carried you back. Your thoughts were a storm raging behind your eyes.

You looked at your companion on the other side of the fire. The Destined One was as collected as ever, patiently mending your torn sleeve. He truly seemed fully unconcerned, content even. This made you feel even more irritated.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, the large sleeves extending past your hands. A consequence from him not letting you lift a finger for any task, including washing clothing, was that you had nothing to wear. He’d lent you one of his robes while he made the needed repairs. The one you were wearing had scarcely been used since he’d upgraded his armor. Even still, you could smell him on you. This thought had you cover your face again in frustration. You’ve had enough of this.

You got up from the fire and made your way over to the Young Sage. He didn’t glance up from his task. It wasn’t unusual for you to sit next to him to talk or watch his work. You scooted closer till your legs were touching. Again, he was unperturbed. You frowned at his lack of reaction, he was much too accustomed to your proximity. You froze. Realization hitting you like a nice forceful push off a cliff.

You revisited the mornings, countless mornings where the two of you were intertwined. You remembered nights where you would purposely try to sleep further away from him only to still wake up in his arms, flustered. You knew he was aware of you seeking him out in the night. He never did anything to stop you. No, it wasn't just that he never did anything to stop you.

The final piece slotted into place. A sly smile crept on your lips. You propped your arm onto your knee, chin resting on your hand.

“I don’t think we’ve been honest with each other,” you said. You didn’t need to do much observation to know he’s listening. He’s always listening to you, even if his obedience could be called into question.

“Back at the beginning of this journey, when I had joined you, there was this particularly cold night.” You watched him closely. He continued to work, but you noticed the slightest twitch of his fingers. You continued, “I remembered waking up on top of you. I crawled to you in my sleep. I didn’t mean to do it that time or all the times afterwards. I figured you were politely ignoring it for my sake.”

The Destined one continued his task, though his tail began flicking in that nervous way it does again. You didn’t let yourself take a moment to be cautious or hesitate. Before doubt takes a hold of you, you have to keep going or else this cycle will start again. You sat up, arms crossing in front of you.

“How many times did I go to you before you started coming to me?”

The Young Sage froze. You saw him take a moment to think. Then he held up four digits. You flushed. Even though you were the one who asked, finally having him acknowledge it made you feel embarrassed. You shoved the feeling aside.

“Were you worried I was cold?” You asked. He nodded, continuing where he left off with his task. You swallowed, “Was it only because you thought I was cold?”

He paused again. You waited. Your heart was thundering in your chest so loud it echoed in your ears. You could no longer hear the crackling of the fire. Truly, this silent monkey makes you wait several eternities for every answer. Finally, the Destined One shook his head. He put down the garment and turned to look at you. You opened and closed your mouth, stuck with finding what else to say now that you had his full attention. He looked at your lips again. This time, he made sure you knew where he was looking. The two of you were moving closer together. Inches apart, you looked into his eyes. Always so kind, always so patient. But now you saw something else, something he'd been keeping well hidden.

“This whole time,” you said, voice lowered to almost a whisper, “I thought I was imagining things.” The Destined One’s eyes were half-lidded, waiting-expecting. He was less than an inch away. The sound of your heart was deafening. You asked your last question, “Am I still imagining things?”

Your lips met his. A gentle kiss full of nerves and hesitation. You weren’t sure who had leaned in first, it was too close to tell. Your hands clutched at his robe, the kiss deepened. His other hand cupped your face as you pulled him closer to you. He was warm and tasted like the fruit you had for dinner. He felt like everything you had imagined countless times and more.

You pulled back first, terrified of the prospect of your heart exploding. He leaned towards you again, chasing you. This kiss was deeper, needier. He pushed you down until your back touched the ground. His hands ran through your hair, lingered on your neck, then slid down your back. Each time he touched you, you felt his nails grazing your skin sending shivers through you. He wasn’t satisfied with just your lips. Hungry nips, bites, and licks went to your neck down towards your chest which was becoming exposed as his robe slipped down your frame. One of his hands held yours, pinning you down as you squirmed and twitched beneath him. The other continued to trail down your body. Your breathing was becoming heavy, you couldn’t control the sounds your throat was making. He was greedily consuming you. It was like he’d finally found a feast after months of famine. You let out a moan as he trailed his tongue down from your chest to your stomach. This made him grip your waist tightly, nails digging a bit too deep into your flesh. You cried out in surprise. Immediately, he lets go, reminded of your delicate human body.

He made to move further back when you held onto his wrist. “I’m okay,” you said breathlessly. What a mess you must’ve looked: face flushed, hair in disarray, wearing his clothes, and sporting his marks. In his eyes you saw that it still held that same insatiable hunger. With your meager strength you pulled him back. This time, at your request, he didn’t stop.

You woke up in his arms once again before the sun had barely broken through the horizon. You rubbed your eyes, shivering in the cold, quiet morning. The Destined One, well awake, pulled you back closer to him.

#black myth wukong #the destined one #bmw #destined one #destined one x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #journey to the west #sun wukong x reader #black myth wukong fanfic #a more detailed scene is in the drafts #i liked writing the rats #imagining him making you clothes is nice #everyone deserves to be carried like a princess

199 notes · View notes

stormz369 · 6 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?#no y/n #x female reader

192 notes · View notes

angelicyoongie · 7 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

212 notes · View notes

tinfoil-jones · 5 months ago

Text

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 5

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.5

“Hey, stretch. You here to play doctor?”

“I’d just like to interview you. I’m not going to touch you if that's what you’re concerned about.”

“Why not?”

“...ANYhow, I have a few questions for you.”

“Yes, I'm single.”

“Not those kinds of questions. Can you tell me your full first name?”

“Can you give me yours first?”

“Fiddleford.”

“Stan.”

“Okay, Stan. Where are you from? And don’t you dare say from my dreams.”

“Well yeah, I’d say ‘from your dreams’, not mine. Other than that, probably some gutters or a ditch somewhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“As far as I remember, I’ve been out on the streets, or in prison. I think I had a car at some point? But I dunno what happened with that, it makes my head burn trying to think about it.”

“Do you have any family?”

“No.”

“Do you remember ever having a family?”

“I don’t remember having one, but I feel like I had one before.”

“What do you feel like happened to them?”

“They probably got tired of my BS and told me to take a hike. It’s how it always goes with me.”

“That’s a theory you’ve put together. I’m asking what you feel like happened.”

“Feel like I had a dad who was waiting for an excuse to get rid of me. I feel like I had a mom who was a liar - I probably got it from her. Maybe a sibling or two? But they don’t want me around.”

“And what do you think about Stanford?”

“You mean the guy who drugged me, kidnapped me, and is keeping me prisoner in his evil basement sub-lab in the middle of the woods? I gotta say, he makes an impression.”

“But does he seem familiar to you?”

“I don’t think I could forget someone like him”

“Is it because of his six fingers?”

“It’s twelve , and no, that's pretty normal compared to all of his other weird crap. It’s because he’s fucking crazy , and convinced I’m some mystery twin of his. But let’s stop talking about him, and talk about you instead. Are you single? You doing anything later?”

“Stay on track, Stan. Let’s take a step back and go back to talking about you. Have you recently gotten into any accidents or sustained major injuries?”

“Define ‘major’.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Judging by your friend's reaction to the stab wounds when we met, I don’t think your definition of major injury is the same as mine.”

---

"What did you determine, Fiddleford?"

"It wasn't easy to glean things because he would not stop flirting with me - was he always this way?"

"He was a little girl-crazy when we were younger, I didn't know he liked men. But that doesn’t matter right now, what were your findings?"

"He has full cognitive function. And based on your scans he has no signs of brain damage - comparing images of his brain to yours, his genetically identical twin, there isn't any morphological difference. Based on my interview, it sounds like he's never sustained significant head trauma neither.”

"But..?"

"If he really does have amnesia, it wasn't caused by a head injury."

"What else could it be?"

"A few things - perhaps he took a drug or substance that warped his brain chemistry. Or- more likely in my opinion, based on his lifestyle and what little history he tells me, he might have undergone extreme distress that caused a mental breakdown."

"Mental trauma can cause someone to lose their memories?"

"Our memories can be a shield and a sword, Stanford. Even good memories that can comfort you through a difficult time, can also cause pain and frustration when compared to a bad predicament.

He must have gone through something so traumatic that the only way his mind could cope with the stress was to... forget things. This is a phenomenon known as repression . Most of the time, a person would repress the traumatic event itself, but it looks like he’s defied the statistics and forgotten everything else instead.”

“He can’t be… that traumatized, right? This is Stanley we’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what he was like before, but he’s got a mullet, Stanford. There ain’t no way he's in a good place mentally.”

"And how would repressing memories about our family- about me , possibly help him cope with trauma?"

"If I'm going to be frank with you, this is the first time in the years that I've known you that you even mentioned having a twin brother . You've talked about other family members before, such as your older brother Sherman, but never him.

If his mind had to prioritize which memories to keep, why would it keep memories of someone he isn't close to?"

"We are- well, we were close."

"Were is a strong word, Stanford. Survival focuses on the present, not the past.”

“... What can we do to get his memories back?”

“I’m not a therapist. But perhaps if you can get him out of the survival mindset, he’d be open to some introspection.”

“So we must disable his fight-flight-freeze response…”

“Stanford Pines, I will throw that damn tranquilizer gun down the bottomless pit if you don’t put it down. Ya'll really need to stop using the slippery slope of science without consideration for morality like it's a damn seesaw. There are other ways to get him out of fight-flight.”

“Such as?”

“I would suggest you make him feel like he’s in a safe space, but that might not work.”

“Why not? He’s perfectly safe here.”

“But does he know that? From his perspective, you’re a stranger who shot him with a tranq dart and imprisoned in your basement for scientific exploitation. And I’ll remind you, this is all without his consent. He is here against his will.”

“It’s for his own good.”

“According to you, someone he thinks he doesn’t know. This may be your twin, Stanford, but he doesn’t know that. You need to gain his trust; maybe he would have trusted you by default in the past, but that isn’t the case now.”

“I… I’m not sure how to do that, Fiddleford. At one point, we knew everything about each other. And now I barely know him, and he thinks I’m a stranger. I’m still angry at him, and still bitter about what he did before he left home, and I’m disappointed in the conman and convict he turned into… but I’m sad, because he's convinced he’s not my brother.”

“You ain’t exactly the same person you were even when we first met all them years ago. People change. How about you try talking to him?”

“Just talking to him?”

“This may be difficult for you in particular, but you should try talking to him like he’s a person; and not a science experiment, anomaly, or an equation you’re trying to solve… Hey, hey don’t be looking like the last pea at pea-time now. I believe in you, you got this.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford.”

*Ford goes back downstairs to the lab. Fiddleford waits for him to be out of earshot before speaking*

“Bless his heart. This is going to be a disaster.”

To be continued…

#he did it guys he said the title #yes thats a passive aggressive bless your heart #stan asking fiddleford is hes doing anything later like hes not stuck in a cell #fords evil basement sub-lab #early amnesia au #for your own good #stanley pines #stan pines #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #ford pines #fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #fiddlestan #fanfic #mullet stan #mystery trio

82 notes · View notes

lurkingteapot · 6 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

caprisun89bakerstreet · 3 months ago

Text

How can I be guilty as sin?

Ch.1 - What if he’s written mine on my upper thigh only in my mind?

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

Series summary: the 5 times you almost told Obi-Wan about your feelings for him and the 1 time it slipped out

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

“You never kiss anyone.”

“You’ve never seen me kiss anyone.” He corrects you and you want to crash his speeder for saying that.

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯. ༊*·˚‧ੈ₊˚ ೃ࿐ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

Pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi f!reader

Wordcount: 5.0k (got out of hand oops)

Chapter summary: the council got a tip that Cad Bane will be at a bar on Coruscant tonight. You and Obi-wan are send to capture him but a few drinks in your feelings for him are distracting as you start to get jealous

Tags/trigger warnings: alcohol, being pulled closer by stranger but is quickly resolved, reader gets jealous, protective obi-wan, forbidden love, yearning

Notes: this is not exactly finished but i’m too lazy to go through this and edit it again. And i spend too much time searching up in-canon alcoholic beverages—the things one does for writing a fic. Nowhere near perfect but anyways enjoy~

You were sitting in the Archives, looking through all the information available about a certain bounty hunter. One you disliked. A lot. Because you’ve already met him one or twice, and Cad Bane wasn’t the type you were ecstatic about to meet again. The Jedi Council got a tip from their contacts that Cad Bane, someone they’ve been trying to capture for months now, would be at a bar here on Coruscant tonight. The Durasteel Den. And you were assigned to capture him. Spitting through his information you don’t learn much else to your credit. He’s a bounty hunter. What did surprise you however is that he had recently kidnapped children. But there weren’t any clues as to why. The thought made your stumach twist. But there was someone else coming with you on this mission.

“Did you find anything?” You suddenly hear a familiar voice and turn to Obi-Wan standing behind you. If you could’ve bottled the sound of the warmth in it, his accent and the way it spread tingles through you, you would’ve gotten drunk on it every night. It would be stronger than the finest corellian whiskey that’s for sure.

“He’s bad with children.” You wildly understated as you look back at the screen with a frown. “But not much we don’t know already. I doubt we’ll need to know about his ‘babysitting skills’ if we’re leaving tonight.” You said, and felt Obi-Wan lean over your shoulder to look at the screen. Blast, why did you always feel as if there was an overwhelming force trying to escape the carefully locked insides of your heart whenever he’s near? You try to not turn your head to the side. Though part of you wanted to, just because he’s so close and maybe if you were living in a different time you could feel his lips brush over—-

“Ah. He enjoys making things difficult.”

“And he doesn’t know when to quit apparantly”

The chuckle that came from Obi-Wan then was the light of your darkest days. He moves away from you and places a hand on your shoulder as he looks down to you.

“I have to attend a meeting in a few minutes. But I’ll meet you at the landing platform tonight.”

“Right, see you later. And good luck.” You add casually and Obi-Wan gives you a look.

“You’re unbelievable.” He tells you with an amused smirk and walks away. And you can’t stop the grin that’s spreading on your face.

It was finally getting dark outside. The Coruscant skyline was illuminated by all the speeder lights for the famous nightlife the city has to offer. Sometimes you wonder how there even was a Jedi Temple on the planet being covered by infrastructure of a giant city. The only living Force being that of the millions of beings rummaging through the streets. From high class dealers, senators and officials to the lowest class scum, villainy and those living of scraps. The unfairness of this Galaxy always made you feel a very strong sense of injustice. Grabbing your lightsaber from your desk, and clipping it to your belt, you make your way to the landing platform. You already see Obi-Wan waiting for you. He greets you with a smile.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” He teases, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Hey I’m arriving at a perfectly reasonable time! But I also know how much you love to see me coming.” You tease back defensively and pat his arm gently as you walk past him to the speeder. You can’t see his grin as he shakes his head and follows you.

On your way to the Durasteel Den, you can’t get rid of the bad feeling in your stomach. Or maybe it was just because you were flying down the lower levels of Coruscant.

“Obi, Bane is smart, how do we know he’ll actually be there?” you ask then and glance at him.

Obi-Wan stays silent for a moment thinking about your words as he flies through the city. His brow furrow just slightly the way it always did when he was deep in thought.

“He’s smart, yes. But everyone let’s something slip sometimes. We can’t always be flawless.” He responds.

You give him a look. Because you were all too aware of Obi-Wan’s perfectionistic tendencies and how he beats himself up over every tiny single mistake.

“You know, that’s very ironic coming from you.” You tease him and can see the corner of his lips turn up. He glances at you.

“Oh so you think I am flawless?” He couldn’t help but tease back.

“No that’s not—“ you start but then shake your head and look away. “You know what i meant you kriffing nerfherder.”

He chuckles softly at your words and contiues to fly to the Durasteel Den. “Ofcours.” He awnsers then.

You try to ignore the fact you feel a little flustered. But you’re able to hide it. Like many feelings over the years. Because you weren’t supposed to feel like this as a Jedi. But maybe you did think he was flawless, was it that bad? You couldn’t help yourself and glanced at him again. With a look you only reserved for him, unknowingly. Though Anakin told you about it once. He could see the way you glanced at his former master whenever you thought he wasn’t looking.

Obi-Wan’s own faint blush was hidden by the darkness of the night- or rather covered by the different colored lights of the speeder-traffic.

Obi-Wan parked the speeder a block or two away as you continued to walk to the bar. Both of you putting the hoods of your robes up, you may not have been actually famous but you were both known around those who weren’t fond of Jedi. And unforutnately for you, that was almost a custom in the lower levels.

“Stay sharp, we don’t know if Bane has arrived yet but if he is, we can’t let him escape again.” Obi-Wan tells you as you approach the entrance.

“Hey, you know me, I’m observant.” You say smiling as you push through the door.

“Very.” He mumbles sarcastically rolling his eyes. You were observant, yes, but he also knew how easily distracted you’d get. But he wouldn’t admit to himself that the real reason he was sarcastic was because you somehow hadn’t noticed how his feelings for you were different from any other Jedi. Or friend. Or anyone for that matter. He forced the thought away as he walked in after you and saw you sit down at the bar. You had both agreed to split up, but to remain in sight. Since Bane would definetly recognize the both of you. He sat down a few chairs away from you as he glanced around the place. No sign of Bane. Yet. But there were many beings already. From all kinds of places in the galaxy, he presumed. Not knowing how long this night will be, Obi-Wan decided to order a drink.

You keep your hood over your head. You hated bars. They were crowded, loud and smelled awful. And too many different types of people were here, often with bad intentions. And the zabrak next to you was very clearly drunk as he swayed in his seat a little mumbling to himself. You couldn’t quite make out his words. But you also hadn’t noticed Cad Bane yet. He should be easy to spot if he was here. That damn blue alien, you think to yourself. You glance at Obi a few seats away from yours. The bar was curved which made it easy to glance to your right without obviously eyeing someone. But you shake your head when you watch a bartender give Obi-Wan a drink. Really? Already? Ofcours he would order himself a drink when we’ve been here for a minute. It wasn’t like he was alcoholic or anything, but the man did enjoy a drink every now and then. In your opinion, his choices of beverages were awful. He always enjoyed the strong stuff, like Avedame for example, though you shouldn’t be that surprised about that. The man drank black caff as if that’s how it’s supposed to be served. It worried you sometimes. Was it because of everything he’s gone through? Or was it just his terrible taste? Maybe both. You didn’t know. After a few minutes though you do order yourself a drink, Alderaanian ale. Mainly because it would’ve attracted too much attention if you didn’t. But you weren’t that opposed to one anyway.

After a while there was still no sign of Bane. And you grew incredibly bored. So bored you had ordered 3 drinks already, one of the 3 being Cortyg Brandy. After the first sip you decided you hated the taste of it and sticked to the Alderaanian stuff instead.

The bar had gotten more crowded, and you started to feel slightly hot after your second drink, so you pulled your hood down. You had noticed some dirty looks towards you, but managed to ignore them, you weren’t interested. Not that that mattered- you were on a mission. You did however have to tell some sleemo to piss off when he sat down next to you and placed a hand on your arm, and luckily he seemed drunk enough to oblige. Turning the glass on the counter of the bar trying to pass time, you glanced at Obi-Wan again. You weren’t sure how much drinks Obi-Wan had ordered. It was more than two. But you had lost count. Not that you were paying attention to him though, you had just noticed the bartender giving him his drinks. Is what you told yourself. No other reason. Though your glances became more frequent from the moment he had removed his own hood earlier. He was one of the nicer things to look at in this bar after all, you think as you take another sip of your drink and gaze at him. That moment you notice Obi-Wan looking directly at you. And you cringe at the thought of him knowing what you just thought of and look down at your practically empty drink. You’re a Jedi you can’t think about Obi-Wan like that. You know that. And have known that for a long time. Over the years your feelings for Obi-Wan hadn’t disappeared like you hoped they would. No. They only became stronger, more intens. Sometimes you wonder how you managed to even get knighted at all.

There was still no sign of that blast bounty hunter. Obi-Wan was starting to wonder if the information was even real as he tried to reach out to the Force and try to locate his presence. He didn’t. He did however, among all these different beings, with agendas he didn’t even want to know about, feel you. Your warmth. Your light and uplifting Force signature. Though it was a little off because of the drinks you’d had. Less obvious, but still impactful. Your tolerance was quite high, he knew that. But not as high as his. He supposed he’d build himself quite a tolerance for it over the years. Obi-Wan had spoken a few words with others, who looked approachable enough. But mainly open enough to give any information about Cad Bane if they had it. But he had no luck yet. And neither did you, he thinks as he watches you fumble with your 4th drink. He noticed you glancing his way quite a few times, but he didn’t think much of it. You were probably just bored and wanted to argue with him about something. He debated on just walking over to you, but decided against it when he had seen numerous shady beings walking around. They couldn’t risk exposing their cover. It would be too risky. So he ordered himself another Avedame.

After a while you almost wanted to just walk out and go home. It was no use, Bane was nowhere and he was never gonna show up anyway. But when you glanced at Obi-Wan again you noticed something. And it made your stumach twist in a way you hadn’t thought it could. There was a twilek woman suddenly sitting next to Obi-Wan. He didn’t seem too bothered by it. Obiwan was always the polite type, and rather good with words. Too good. And he was smart. And he always had those too witty comebacks of his that would drive you crazy. But the twilek was talking to him with a smile that screamed ‘I know you want me’. It makes your insides twist as you tighten your fingers around your drink. Obi-Wan smiled at her as they spoke. Though you told yourself he only smile because he was polite. But then the twilek’s hand was resting on his leg, as she moves closer to him too casually. She looks from his eyes to his lips and you quickly realize you want to vomit. So you glance back to Obi-Wan. And when you thought this couldn’t get any worse you see him lean in as he says something in her ear. You want to look away because you can’t physically sit here and watch Obi-Wan flirting with this twilek. It made you feel sick. But you couldn’t tear your eyes off of them as if afraid you’d miss something if you did. And you would have. You would’ve missed the way the girl wrapped her arms around his neck and oh so casually leaned into him when he placed his hand on her back. You weren’t the jealous type. You were never jealous. But oh how you could feel the Force around you start to change into enviousness. Grabbing your drink you finish it in one go. Why is Obi-Wan smiling at her? And why didn’t he hold you like that? Why was he so easily entranced by this twilek he didn’t even know, he’s never seen before, when you’ve been right there next to him for years? You thought that he cared about you, you know he did, you just thought that maybe he’d feel just a little more for you than this. You don’t even bother trying to hide your feelings in the force. You doubt he’d notice anyway since he’s so distracted by the woman. And before you knew it, her hands moved to hold his face and she pressed her lips against his. And you watch as Obi-Wan moves his hand to cradle her face as he kisses her back. Obi-Wan is kissing her. Obi-Wan is kissing someone that isn’t you. Disgust paints your features and you’re sure you’re about to be sick. And they’re not stopping. And besides disgust, jealousy and an enormous amount of envy, you feel something else. Your heart sinks to your stumach as you clench your jaw. Because you wish he’d kiss you like that… After a moment you stop the bartender and ask for an Avedame. Because you didn’t care about the taste right now, if anything it would be a good distraction. Obi-Wan had seemed to have found one…

After a minute or two you can’t take it anymore. They’ve been making out for two minutes at least and you’ve been forced to sit here and watch as Obi-Wan kisses someone he doesn’t even know when you’ve been dreaming of him kissing you for years. You hate him for it. Sometimes you hate being a Jedi. But you knew that if you weren’t, you never would’ve been brave to tell him anyway.. you finish your fifth drink of the night and it was one too many. Avedame really tasted awful. And you regret drinking it so quickly. But you notice the two nerfherder’s are finally done making out. The twilek caresses his face for a moment and you clench your jaw again. You watch as Obi-Wan says something to her and she pulls back and walks away. Obi-Wan turns back to the bar and looks at his drink before glancing at you. The force surrounding you feels like a haze of mixed feelings. Jealously, resentment, anger, hurt, remorse, insecurity, guilt all mixed up like a bottle of Corellian whiskey. You try not to drown in it. And it takes a moment for you to look away from him. Obi-Wan noticed. And for a few moments you look around the bar again, trying to get rid of your conflicted feelings. Until your eyes return to Obi’s seat. Which is empty. Why is it empty—where did he go? Oh. He must’ve followed that twilek somewhere else so they can—

“You seem distracted..” you hear a familiar voice beside you disrupt your thoughts and see obiwan sitting down next to you. You look down at your drink feeling a pit in your stomach.

“I’m not.” You say unable to hide the resentment in your voice. “You seem to be though.” You add bitterly.

He says silent for a moment, watching you swirl around your drink. “It’s that Avedame?” He asks then, slightly surprised.

“Possibly.” You mumble as you finish the last bit in one go. And cant help but wince. “I still don’t know why you like this—“ you start as you lean against the bar and look at the empty glass.

“Well i never-“

“Not that i have any idea of what you do like.” You hear yourself say before he could finish, your words slumbering together slightly because of the alcohol in your system.

But Obi-Wan is taken aback slightly. You were upset. He knew that. But why? Was this about the twilek girl he just kissed? Why would that interest you? He stays silent for a moment trying to pick a right way to respond because he suddenly felt bad. He decides that the truth would probably be best.

“You know me better than anyone.” You hear him say after a moment. He stated it rather simply. But you scoff and rueful smile crossed your lips. “I thought that too.”

Because you thought he’d never willingly kiss someone. You were foolish enough to hope that he’d one day kiss you of all people. But you always had wild fantasies. And apparently— unfortunatly this was one of them. The realization made you feel awfully heavy, even though you’ve known that dreaming of Obi-Wan being in love with you was foolish. He was the most devoted Jedi you’ve ever met. It couldn’t happen. But emotions were a fragile thing and hard to control.

Obi-Wan felt his stumach sink when he saw that rueful smile on your face. He’d upset you. He wasn’t sure why or how but he hated it. And he wished he could just turn you around to make you look at him, hold your face in his hands and let his thumbs trace every feature of yours. The thought made him realize he wanted to kiss you. Desperatly. Like so many times before. He needed to show you how he felt- but it goes against everything he believes in. And yet it was there. That feeling was always there somewhere, hidden away in his heart. A door which could only be opened by you. It was as if you’d stolen the key from him on one of those days where you were running away from him as a padawan because you’d stolen his lightsaber. Along with the key to his heart. And he hasn’t gotten rid of the yearning to know what it’d be like to remove the lock forever. He only felt more and more conflicted every time you’d greet him in the morning with that beautiful smile of yours, your uplifting presence and those eyes which would sweep him off his feet and he could drown him if he wasn’t being careful. Stars— he must’ve been a little more affected by his earlier drinks than he thought. Or simply by you.

“We should probably go—“ he said placing a hand gently on your upper arm because he couldn’t help himself.

“Can’t- have to wait for Bane.“ You say your head feeling slightly fuzzy as you move from your chair and start walking away. Away from Obi-Wan because you were too upset. You thought he would’ve chosen you. Like you would choose him if he asked.

“Hey wait—“ he said when you started walking- or rather stumbling away through the bar and he reached for your wrist.

“Let go Obi— Wan-“ your words slurred and you were getting annoyed as you look back at him.

“Listen we have to talk.” He said placing his hand on your arm again.

“Don’t wanna- talk.” You mumble as you turn around and away from him because the last person you wanted to talk to right now was Obi-Wan.

You hear him sigh as you move through a group of people. And faintly heard him call your name multiple times. You just needed to find Cad Bane and then you’d be able to go home. And sleep. And get rid of this headache you were suddenly getting.

“Sir have you seen a really ugly blue alien?” You ask a random person and the man turns around to look at you. “With an outstandingly big hat.” You add and and see a grin spreading on his face.

“Can’t say i have. What’s his name gorgeous? Maybe I’m able to help. But I’m more curious about your name.” The man said as he stepped closer and looked down at you. If you weren’t drunk, you would’ve spotted this red flag way earlier.

But when Obi-Wan finally spotted you he saw the man wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer. And he felt his protective instincts rise in his chest. He hurried through the last group infront of him.

“Can you not— touch me-“ you say, clearly getting annoyed by this man but he seems to enjoy it.

“Don’t worry gorgeous, I’ll make sure you won’t want to think about anything else” he said pulling you closer.

“Let her go.” Obi-Wan said with a warning tone, standing behind you.

“Oh i see you have more admirers” The man said and you realized how drunk he was by the awful smell of his breath.

“You heard her she doesn’t want you to touch her. Now let her go.” Obi-Wan said again, and he’s refraining himself from grabbing his lightsaber.

“Will you both just shut up and leave me alone?” You say annoyed, tired of this entire night while you actually have an important mission. Cad Bane. Capturing Cad Bane. That’s what this night was about. You push away from the man as much as you can, but stumble back against Obi. Who was surprised but immediatly steadied you and place a hand on your waist. Normally you would’ve felt butterflies at the action. Now you just felt more irritated.

“I don’t think she likes you, sleemo.” The man said when he noticed your irritated look. And obi’s brow furrowed.

“She’s with me. Go buy another drink.” He told him and he realized you were walking away again.

“I can handle my own problems-“ you mumble towards Obi and see the two men glaring at eachother.

“For force’sake just leave us alone, I’m not interested-“ you say, your words still slurring slightly as you try to get away from Obi-Wan. And he lets you.

“Oh I don’t think so gorgeous-“ the man said when he reached for you again. And before Obi-Wan stepped towards you, you use the Force to throw someone else’s drink towards his head and it shatters, hitting his temple. Which is now bleeding. Obi-Wan pauses in his step. You apparantly were able to handle this without stepping in.

“Kriff—“ the man whined as he looked at you.

“Not interested.” You tell him again and then walk away. Not wanting to be distracted or held up by having to deal with idiotic men.

Obi-Wan had warned the guy again to not follow and he seemed to have taken the hint when he noticed his lightsaber around his belt. Then he turns to catch up with you. But you’re walking through the entire bar it seems like. He barely managed to catch up with you almost tripping over multiple people.

“Would you please just stand still and wait—“ Obi-Wan said as he reached for your arm again.

“No I’m looking for Bane while you’re busy with many other irrelevant things-“ you say until Obi turns you around and manages to grasp your wrist.

“We’re not going to find Bane tonight, now if you would please just listen—“

“I am.” You say are you turn away again because you were determined to find him tonight and end his crimes.

Obi-Wan grew slightly annoyed with your stubborness and sighed deeply. He whirled you around again and placed both of his hands on your shoulders. Forcing you to look at him.

“Listen to me, Bane isn’t here. He’s not going to be. He managed to find out his location would be compromised to the Order by one of his newer contacts. So he isn’t here.” He told you. And you managed to digest half of the information he told you, but it was clear Bane wasn’t here. And you grow more annoyed for some reason.

“Great so all of this was for nothing.” You mumble crossing your arms.

“No it wasn’t, we now know he wouldn’t be here in the first place, otherwise we could’ve only guessed.” He replied.

You stay silent for a moment as Obi-Wan looks at you. He’s a bit worried about your state. But didn’t mention it yet.

“How do you know?” You ask him then as you look back at his eyes. Those damn eyes of his were clearer than the oceans of Kamino.

“The twilek woman told me. She’s been in contact with someone who works for Bane and knew he wouldn’t be here. But she wasn’t any more helpful.” He told you, and if you weren’t feeling so drunk you would’ve noticed the way his expression changed for a moment.

“I bet you’d beg to differ.” You say bluntly as i glare at him. And he sighs.

“It was necessary. I do not understand why you seem upset about me kissing her.” He said and you wish you could punch him for his stupidity.

“It was stupid.” You state annoyed.

“Stupid?” He questioned.

“You never kiss anyone.”

“You’ve never seen me kiss anyone.” He corrects you and you want to crash his speeder for saying that.

“Did it actually upset you?” He asked when you stayed silent for a moment, and you hate the way his voice sounded genuinely concerned.

“I don’t care who you kiss. I just want you to be careful.” You say then and look away from him. “There’s many way to get drugged.” You add. it was definitely not an excuse.

“Ofcours..” Obi-Wan replied as he still looked at you. “So there’s truly nothing else bothering you?”

You look back at him then. And you wanted to scream at him how you felt. For him to feel the way you do when you see him smiling at you, holding your hand so neither of you get lost in crowds or when you saw him kiss that twilek. But you manage to stay silent. He’s a Jedi. You are too. It could never happen. It would never happen, because he didn’t feel the same. And he never will, not after so many years.

“I hate Avedame.” You say with a straight face. Obi-Wan can’t help his soft sigh.

“You’re drunk.” He states simply.

“A little.” You admit. And he shakes his head.

“We should go. There’s no reason for us to stay here.” He said then. You stay silent for a moment.

“Fine.” You mumble softly and start walking out the bar. Trying to get rid of the thought of what would happen if you did stay here. If you made a move. If you leaned closer to him and caressed his face. If you’d just lean in and kiss him. But he didn’t feel the same. He never had. You hoped he did. That maybe one day he’d confess how he felt all these years, just like the way he had in your dreams. Sometimes you let yourself foolishly believe that they were visions. But after years of being close it led to nothing other than friendship. You are grateful for it, but you desperately wished it could be more. But even though you were sure he was the only one you were ever going to fall for, the only one to ever love as deeply as this, you knew he only saw you as his friend. It could never be more.

91 notes · View notes

pureconancommentary · 8 months ago

Text

"We can't do anything"? How about invite her inside your house, Agasa? She's been waiting in the snow for three hours, just standing there doing nothing else, and you just watched and thought 'oh man, that's sad. ...Anyways, shame on you Shinichi'.

I mean, there are other concerns, such as 'how did she arrive to wait for three hours and Conan seems to have only arrived'. If I were to assume, he had to talk with Megure for a little while as Shinichi for case reasons, and then slip away and return to the agency, only to find that Ran wasn't there. Though it also brings up how it'd take three whole hours, and also why Ran decided to wait in front of Shinichi's house in the cold when she'd previously just waltzed inside when she thought he might have gone home. Even now, right when the lights turn on, she just pushes the gate and front door open, so there's no reason we see for why she'd stand there for three hours. She's not even wearing pants, she's in a skirt with long socks, there is no reason to have her do that.

#ch 48 #vol 5 #detective conan #It's one of the iconic 'oh man their situation is sad' scenes #But. Agasa you're just kinda mean. (Unless he offered to let her stay and watch from his house and she said no)#And Ran being out in the cold makes no real sense except to make Shinichi feel bad #But he shouldn't feel bad. It's not even really his fault he had to use his name #His name is the only reason Megure didn't just say 'yep it was a suicide' and leave the entire band lowkey hating him while grieving #Though. He also /had/ to use him name; otherwise the next case wouldn't have as much tension I guess #Either way; that's not completely his fault; unlike when he completely botched his cover of being a child and had to get help #And we shouldn't have any 'poor girl; waiting for three hours in the cold waiting for you to come home' guilt trip #...Actually; since the next case is the Conan kidnapping; I wonder where his parent's are staying right now #This is partially a lead in to that; so I understand why they aren't at the Kudou house #But are they at Agasa's? Are they at the hotel they end up using during the kidnapping?#Had they actually planned the kidnapping at this point; or did they decide to do it /because/ Shinichi had just brought his name out

2 notes · View notes

cupcakegirl3 · 3 days ago

Text

“hold it”

i know places - chapter 6

ch 5 , ch 7 (coming soon)

wc: 3.7k

tw: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, smoking (weed), drinking (wine), kissing and dry humping <3, forced intox, anal, inspection kink (kinda), fingering, degradation, slapping, spanking, vibrators, natasha pov (it deserves its own) , "shocking collar" (its wandas powers), wanda and nat referring to their straps as “cocks”

a/n: tysm for reading <333 — started chapter 7 but i’m super busy for the next couple of weeks :(

my most feral chapter imo

Finally, it was just Wanda and I home alone. Natasha had some important business, something Wanda said I shouldn’t bother my pretty little head about, so I didn’t.

She was my mommy, she knew best.

We had a wonderful lunch then cleaned up after. I didn’t have to be chained anymore, not when they were home with me. They trusted me now, trusted me to stay by there sides and listen.

My head going under the cold water, my lungs filling with it.

I still thought of my last punishment often, being pulled from sleep from it. But I wouldn’t do something like that again I vowed. They make me happy, they know what’s best.

I sighed happily as Wanda placed a plump cherry onto my lips. I was laying down, my head in her lap as we laid on a blanket. The sunlight was tickling my skin. Wanda had said she wanted to spend some time outdoors, I couldn’t complain. I didn’t know the last time I was outside.

None of that matters now, I’m here with them.

She spread the juice on my lips, staining them I was sure. Then she would lean down and lick the juice off of them, tickling my sides as she did so. My giggles filled the afternoon air.

“Have you ever smoked weed before?” She asked, her hands playing with my hair.

“No mommy.” I had never even drank besides at church, even if I had turned 21 last year.

“Let’s try it.”

I wanted to say no but I knew I couldn’t. I just needed to make her happy, needed to keep making her want me. So I sat up, facing her. She took the first hit, exhaling the foul smelling smoke.

She held the joint to my lips, forcing me to take a deep inhale. Instantly I coughed, unable to keep any of it down. My lungs burned, just like when…

“Come on darling, keep going for mommy.”

She pulled my head up, pushing the joint back to my lips. It didn’t matter that I was coughing and sputtering, she kept forcing me to take hit after hit.

“Hold.” She said, I held my breath against the burn before I had to let it go. I couldn’t breathe past the burn of my throat and lungs, I could do nothing but cough.

Wanda forced some water into my mouth, “Good girl.” She said quietly. The water did little to stifle the pain.

Instead I just sat back. I felt so different. So…foggy.

“Here darling, just drink some wine. It helps settle the high.”

I didn’t even realize she had brought out a bottle. The entire time I had been here. Home. I hadn’t been allowed to drink wine with them.

The wine was sweet but it didn’t help the burning in my lungs.

I liked the way it felt though, like the world was a little brighter, a little more fun.

“You’re smiling.” Wanda laughed, pinching my cheek.

I couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss her beautiful lips. Fuck it felt so amazing. She lowered me down so I was straddling her waist. I couldn’t help but buck my hips.

I didn’t care if I was desperate, it just felt so fucking good to grind my hips onto her. She encouraged it, pushing me down onto her. Drool and spit connected our lips as her hands became more and more desperate.

I was panting, rubbing myself onto her frantically. Chasing any sort of feeling I could. I tangled my hands into her shirt, pulling at the fabric of it.

I needed more, needing something to undo the tight coil in my stomach. I whined as Wanda pushed us both up so we were sitting chest to chest.

“Drink some more wine, bunny.”

She tipped the glass into my open mouth. She filled my mouth up again and again until the glass was out. My head was spinning, I had never felt anything like this before.

I leaned forward to kiss her again but she stopped me.

“Tell mommy what you want.”

I whined, so desperately embarrassed by my thoughts.

She kidnapped you!!!

Mommy was just so beautiful, so…ugh.

Words were hard to form, Wanda tsked. She used her magic to pour more wine, I opened my mouth to try and please her.

More and more wine went down my throat. I giggled at the feeling, I giggled again at how beautiful she was.

“Mommy…” I whined, my hands grabbing her shirt again. I looked down, unable to brave making eye contact with her.

“You poor shy thing.” She cooed, her hand coming to my cheek. “You can’t get anything until you tell mommy what you want.”

“Touch me…” I whispered, still not able to look at her.

“Look at mommy.” Her green eyes were piercing and so lovely. “Ask nicely now.”

“Mommy w-will you—“ Words were hard to form, especially with my heart beating so fast. My head felt so dizzy. “I feel so hot.” Was all I could get out.

She smiled, “Let’s cool you off.”

I didn’t care that she removed my shirt, the sun was warm on my hot skin. I wanted her to touch me all over but she wouldn’t, not until I told her.

“Touch me.” I whispered, finally being enough to tell her.

“Oh poor baby.” She cooed, her fingers instantly finding my sore nipples. “I bet these hurt.”

“Mhm.” I bit my lip, fuck it felt so amazing. She was relentless with her teasing but I was just so happy she was touching me again.

Her lips found the column of my neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there. I moaned, unable to hold anything back from her.

“Do you want mommy to do anything else?”

“Please.” I whined, bucking my hips towards hers. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

Wanda laughed, pinching my nipple extra hard. “Words honey.”

“Touch me—down there.”

“Drink some more wine.” She demanded, using her magic to pour more into my mouth.

There was no room for complaints, not when her lips stayed on my throat. My head was completely spinning now, it was hard to even sit up.

Wanda eased me to lay down, spreading my thighs as she did. “Oh darling, you’ve got yourself so worked up. I mean look at this giant wet spot on your panties.”

She ran a singular finger over the wet spot on my grey panties. “Tell mommy how wet you are.”

“So—so wet.” I slurred, my head falling to the side. “For you—mommy.”

“For me?” She gushed, her hands tickling my sides. “What do you want mommy to do about it?”

“Touch me.”

“Good girl.” She lowered herself, her face level with my clothed pussy.

Her warm, beautiful mouth started to lick me. The feeling wasn’t enough. I whined, bucking into her mouth but she held me down.

“Take what I give you.”

“Yes mommy.” I gasped out.

I felt myself throbbing with want, it was really the only thing I could feel. My head was numb, unable to hide any noises coming from my mouth. Tears began leaking out of my eyes, frustrated with the lack of attention.

“Mommy..” I whined, my hands trying to reach her but failing. “More please.”

“Oh does my little slut want more.”

I nodded quickly. “Please.”

“Come here.” She pulled me forward, kissing me again. I kissed her back desperately, pushing my naked chest into her. “Eager.” She mumbled into my lips.

She pulled back, holding my face in place. “Mommy wants to feel your other hole today.”

My head was spinning, I didn’t even respond.

She positioned me so that I was face down ass up, my arms stretched above my head. It was hard to hold myself up, Wanda grabbed my hips to help me.

Finally, I felt my panties slipping off my body. I arched my back more, trying to get any attention on where I ached the most.

“Oh baby, so wet for mommy. You’re gushing, it’s all down your thighs.” She kissed the bare skin off my ass before pushing one finger into me. I gasped, pushing myself back into her.

“Now bunny, you have to stay calm for mommy. Can you do that?”

“Yesyesyssyes.”

She laughed, slowly pumping her finger in and out of me. Wanda pushed in another, making my head spin even more. I tried my hardest to stay still but fuck it was so hard.

“Squeezing mommy’s fingers so hard darling. Does bunny need her mommy?”

I moaned out a yes, pushing myself back into her. She smacked my already bruised ass. “Patience darling.”

“Yes mommy.”

A third finger pushed into me, stretching me out. “Oh baby, do you feel that stretch?” I nodded, unable to form words. “Already too fucked out huh? My beautiful, pathetic, little princess.”

She worked her fingers in and out of me at a slow pace. I was shaking, barely able to breathe with want, need. I needed her to keep touching me, to keep corrupting me.

This is what I was meant for.

“God baby, my fingers are so wet, I doubt i’ll even need lube.” She commented, pulling her fingers out. “Just a little…” Her hot spit hit my back, her fingers spreading it onto my asshole.

“No—mommy.”

“Shhhhh baby, mommy wants to feel how tight you are. Take it like a good girl.”

It started with one finger, just like my pussy. She slowly pushed it in and out, commenting on how good I felt for her.

Then the second finger was pushed, I hated that the stretch felt so good. She kept working me open, slowly getting me ready for something. My clit throbbed, just wanting to be used.

Then the third finger, and the fourth. I was a panting mess as she pushed it in. I felt droll pooling out the side of my mouth but I didn’t care, or want to do anything about it.

I was sick for wanting this. For wanting her to play with my body like this.

“This is your home.”

“I think you’re ready bunny.” She pulled back, her fingertips still slightly inside of me. “Now you’re going to have to be patient or mommy will really hurt you. Or maybe you want that?”

I quickly shook my head no. “Alright, mommy wants to feel how tight you are around her cock. Since daddy won’t let us take your virginity, I’ll just have to use the other hole.”

The head of her cock pressed against me. At first I tried to move away but Wanda was quick to stop me.

“Just the tip.”

She pushed the big, mean tip into me. She stretched me more than her fingers ever did. I cried out, tears rolling down my cheeks. I tried to plead with her but they went dead at my lips.

Why does this feel so good?

“Made for this baby.” Wanda said, fucking the tip in and out of me. “Oh shit honey, it’s sooo tight mommy has too…”

I gasped as she pushed into me, until her hips were flushed with mine. The pain was hard but fuck I hated how good it felt.

“Mommy has to fuck you all the way, feel too good.”

I was thankful with how slow she went, slowly working me open to her cock. She was moaning behind me, grabbing at my hips so hard she left bruises.

“Mommy’s not gonna last long, fuck.” She moaned, I had never heard her like this. I loved the fact that she was also coming undone around me.

Her hand found my clit, running fast circles on it.

“Mommy wants you to cum, squeeze my fat cock in your ass.”

I was so desperate for release that I came quickly, screaming into the open yard. She cussed behind me, her hips stalling.

I felt a hot liquid spilling into my ass. I got nervous at first, having no idea what had happened. She pulled out of me, slowly.

When her cock finally left me, something else replaced it. It was much shorter than mommy’s cock but just as wide. I felt the fabric of my panties being pulled back up, uncomfortably wet.

“Good girl baby.” She cooed, pulling me back up. “Can’t wait to show daddy that later.”

…

Natasha pov

There she was.

Natasha shut the door behind her, already smiling at her. She was on her knees, eyes bloodshot as she looked at her.

So Wanda had made her smoke.

Natasha was already wet with the thought of how pliable she was stoned. Would she even fight it anymore? After her last punishment she had shaped up, no longer verbally saying no.

Natasha liked it when she fought, when she got to use her strength against her.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hi daddy.”

Wanda coughed from behind her, “Show daddy.”

Her face instantly flushed, her eyes now wide and nervous. Natasha of course already knew, Wanda had recorded the whole thing.

Still she acted innocent as she turned around and present her ass to Natasha. Her fingers shook as she pulled her panties to the side.

“Oh darling.” Natasha cooed, crouching down beside her. Natasha couldn’t help her hand darting out to press down on the pink jeweled plug. She groaned, arching her back.

“Do you like your ass being stuffed huh?” Natasha teased, snapping her panties back into place. She got close to her ear, “You know who likes stuff like that? Sluts.”

Natasha picked her head up, slapping her flushed face. “I come home from a shitty day of work and you look all pretty for me.” She slapped her again, loving the scared look on her pretty face. “You’re so fucking precious, my little princess.” She slapped her again, this time making it really hurt.

“Daddy why.” She whined, her eyes barely open.

“Because you just look so fucking pretty.”

Natasha stood up, walking over to Wanda to give her a kiss.

“How’d she do today?” Natasha asked, her hands sneaking around her waist.

“Good, really good. Drank a whole bottle of wine.” Wanda’s hands rested on her chest. “Work really that bad?”

“No,” She kissed her wife’s face, “Just missed you.”

“We missed you too.” They both looked over at her, “Isn’t that right.”

“I— missed you.”

She wished she could beat her favoritism out of her. But that had been the deal. Good cop, bad cop. Natasha liked discipline, she liked having a pretty little thing squirming under her. Wanda liked a babbling little princess, desperately panting for attention. They got the best of both worlds.

Wanda and her had cooked dinner and cleaned after them. She knew the look in Wanda’s eyes, she had known them for years. She wanted to be fucked.

They couldn’t even make it to their room, stumbling to the couch. A softer set of footsteps followed them, but they weren’t going to receive any attention.

Wanda was desperate in her mouth, instantly grabbing her through her clothes.

“On your knees.” Natasha barked at her, kissing Wanda again. The floor creaked as she listened and she pushed Wanda onto the couch.

She went beside Wanda, grabbing her warm pussy instantly. Natasha left their toy on the ground while Natasha kissed her wife. Wanda was more than willing, shoving her tongue deep into her mouth.

“What do you have planned?” Wanda mumbled against her lips.

“Just follow my lead.” Natasha’s hands reached for the bottom of her shirt, stripping her of it instantly. Natasha gripped her bare breasts. This had been the reason she had fallen in love with her, well and her dazzling smile.

Soon, Natasha was stripped of her clothes as well. Wanda’s fingers began playing with her. She groaned, relaxing her head into the back of the couch.

“Do you remember that one toy, the strange looking one?” Natasha mused to Wanda.

“Oh she won’t like that one.” Wanda smiled, raising one hand to use her magic. Instantly before their eyes, the giant dildo was on the floor in front of them, it was shaped like a dragon tail almost. Small at the end and extended wide at the bottom.

On her knees she squirmed, biting her lip. Wanda used her magic to grab something else. A small pink toy that had a vibrator to sit perfectly on her clit and g-spot.

Natasha’s hand extended to Wanda’s pussy, starting a slow assault on her wetness. “Take out your plug.”

She cringed as she pulled the plug from her ass, dropping it onto the floor. “Use the lube. Get it all over that toy.”

Wanda’s back arched as Natasha’s fingers sped up before slowing down. Wanda’s fingers kept a steady pace, at least until she was able to entertain them.

Her hands shook as she stroked the toy, it really was huge but neither of them expected her to take it all. Not that she knew that.

“Give us a show, princess.” Wanda said, her eyes solely focused on her. “Put that toy inside, the bigger part goes on your pretty clit.”

With a grimace on her face, she did it. Discreetly, Natasha started the toy with the remote. Just a low setting to get her settled in. She leaned back balancing with her hands. The toy was much too tall for her to sit on her knees, so she had to get up on her feet.

She whimpered, pitifully, when the toy began stretching her open. Fuck she loved that sound. She was so utterly pathetic for them, ruining her hole just for their enjoyment.

Wanda’s fingers stuck themselves inside Natasha, making her buck her hips involuntarily. The girl in front of them watched the scene with wide eyes as she eased herself on the toy.

She stopped for a moment, catching her breath. Wanda was quick with her magic. Red wisps extended around her neck, jolting her slightly when she stopped.

“Keep going, look how desperate daddy is.” She teased, setting it down when she picked up her pace again.

“Bitch.” Natasha swore, speeding up her movements on her clit.

Soon, the girl was panting in front of them. She was further down the toy than either had expected. Her poor arms were shaking with strain from having to be in that position for so long.

Natasha couldn’t help herself. She grabbed ahold of Wanda by the neck, pushing her to lay down. “Need to taste you.” She mumbled before pushing her face into her wet, open cunt.

Wanda arched her back, a beautiful moan leaving her mouth. Still, she didn’t miss it when she stopped moving on the toy, sending her another jolt.

It was wonderful watching sweet, little mommy give out the punishments this time. Natasha loved doing it but fuck she had relished in watching what Wanda had done to her last time. She only wished she could feel how tight her pussy was when she was pushed down into the cold water. Natasha had wanted to fuck her right then and there but Wanda wouldn’t have it. They fucked for hours after they locked her in her room.

Wanda came around her mouth with a loud moan, her pussy gushing all over Natasha’s tongue. She was quick to lick it up, trying to look over at her to see what she was missing.

Her eyes were wide, watching the scene unfold. Natasha reached for the remote, her tongue still inside of Wanda, unrelenting until another orgasm was pulled out of her. Natasha turned up the toy tenfold, causing her to scream. She fell further on the toy, crying out as she did.

Wanda came again, quickly at the sight. Tears began leaking from her eyes, they were locked on Wanda.

“Come here.” Wanda begged, her voice a little coarse. “Don’t stop honey, you’re being such a good girl for us.”

She whined, legs shaking from the force of the vibrators. “Daddy I’m gonna—“ She moaned, her eyes rolling back.

Natasha turned down the toy, causing her to let out a loud whine. She stopped again, Wanda was quick again.

“Haven’t seen you do that before.” Natasha mused, climbing on top of Wanda.

“First time I’m trying it.” Wanda smiled, still out of breath from her orgasms.

Wanda’s fingers found her pussy again. For a moment, Natasha forgot about the scene in front of her, completely absorbed by Wanda. She really was sweet, and willing and oh so gorgeous.

Natasha arched her back as Wanda’s fingers curled right at her g spot. She looked back to their girl, humping herself desperately on the toy. Fuck she couldn’t wait to watch the cameras back.

Natasha felt herself throbbing around Wanda’s fingers by just watching her. She was so fucking pathetic, so sweet, so pliable. Natasha wanted nothing more than to corrupt her, to turn them into their little fuck doll.

She felt her peak approaching, deciding to turn up her toy. She screamed, her hips halting again. Tears rolled down her face when Wanda jolted her. “Mommy—daddy please i’m gonna cum!” She screamed.

Natasha felt herself tip over the edge, barely paying enough attention to turn off the toy all the way, perfectly ruining her orgasm. Wanda fucked her through it, biting a spot on her neck as she sat stars.

Their girl collapsed on the floor, her pitiful whines filling the room. Wanda jolted her again before her fingers inside of Natasha finally slowed. She was crying into her arms, curled into a ball.

Natasha kissed Wanda once, twice, one more time, then got up to get her. Natasha slipped her shirt back on, leaving the rest of it on the floor. She scooped her into her arms.

“Why the tears?” Natasha asked, trying to sound sweet like Wanda.

“Mean.” She mumbled out.

“You think I don’t feel the way you squeeze me every time I am mean to you? Don’t act all innocent now.”

She huffed, Natasha had never seen her act so bratty.

Why did it hurt a little?

She sighed, “You can sleep with us tonight.”

Her head shot up, smiling a little through her tears. “Really daddy?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed but being so far from it. Waking up next to her sounded wonderful.

#wandanat my luvs #my works #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wandanat x reader #dark wandanat #natasha romanov #dark wlw #natasha x reader

124 notes · View notes

dollgxtz · 7 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,

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

876 notes · View notes