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electricgg · 2 months ago

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Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 6: I Stray Not From The Path, I Hold Death’s Hand In Mine

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 (Here!) / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 /

Head wounds tend to heal relatively fast.

All due to the ample blood supply in the head and neck region. The abundant blood flow helps deliver the necessary cells for tissue repair and regeneration. The healing time can vary based on many factors, like wound size, depth, and individual health.

Large and deeper wounds potentially heal up to 2-3 months.

Maximoff’s wound didn’t even leave a scar or trace on her skin.

The butler, Alfred, had mentioned being of help to the young girl the first day until she claimed being able to take care of cleaning the wound and changing the gauze by herself once he explained the steps one by one. She would do it every morning after waking up and after taking her nightly shower, before heading to bed.

But even with a strict cleaning routine, a head wound like the one she had shouldn’t have healed so quickly.

Especially in only 5 days.

“Someone certainly has some impressive genes…” Rio muttered offhandedly, pretending to be very busy with her files as she took a seat at her desk.

The looming glare from the girl sitting at the examination table had the green witch holding back her grin.

Everything was falling into place.

There was no reason for the girl to come for a check-up directly to the police station. Much less likely to get a check-up from Rio. The Wayne family had their private doctor and were way more capacitated than a nurse with basic paramedic training and a doctor title, mostly directed towards cadavers and autopsies.

Well, that was just her cover story. No need for mortals to know the personification of Death was playing dress up for funsies.

Either way, the only reason her Wheel of Fortune would be here, it would be if she had requested or demanded that she be brought to Rio herself.

She certainly caught on to things quickly, unlike her bothersome twin brother. Even if she had some otherworldly help, Rio had to give her some credit.

Which led to the current tension in the office that was currently occupied by the two of them. The butler was off talking with the chief about some new development in the investigation of the attack.

Red Hood had left almost nothing to identify the bodies with. Rio retained her bubbling anger by dumping the files into her hand on the desk with a controlled sigh.

Endless Above, the Waynes were a thorn on her ass.

Good thing her cards on the table were placed along quite fast.

“Where is Billy?”

She was straight to the point, too.

That wouldn’t do.

“Why would I know?” the woman drawled, spreading on her chair will looking at Maximoff with a raised eyebrow.

Maximoff’s face was all frowned up, the corner of her lips curling in frustration and impatience. Rio thought she looked like an angry puppy about to start yapping and barking at her feet while shaking. Almost like a chihuahua.

That made her laugh sharply, startling and confusing the young girl.

“Ask the right questions, pet. That may get you the answers you need.”

The shiver of disgust at the nickname amused Rio to know end. Getting under people’s skin was such an entertaining show for her.

“...Do you know who I am? What am I?”

Rio could work with that.

“I am familiar with your family’s history.”

The girl gave her a deadpan expression. “That’s the most vague shit answer I ever heard off.”

“Take it or leave it,” she shrugged.

With a roll of her eyes, Maximoff sighed and shrugged in defeat. Might as well ask other questions then, right?

“Fine, then. Who are you then? Because I’m pretty sure you know something that I don’t about the Addams Family on steroids.”

“Ah, the Waynes,” Rio’s tone was sarcastic and low. She got up and stood in front of Maximoff, who listened attentively.

“They have been messing around with things that they shouldn’t, and it’s time for them to pay me back.”

“...So, you are like, mafia or something?”

“Not quite. The mafia still manages to keep up with their parts of my deals.”

That got Maximoff thinking, her head tilting to the side as her gaze moved up to the ceiling in thought.

Yeah, she was just like a puppy. She could now see why Agatha was so entranced with the other Maximoff.

“So,” the girl said while her nails clicked fastly against the metal table. “the Waynes owe you something, and you have it out for them?”

“Seems almost too simple, right?” A grin crept on the witch’s lips. She could almost see the gears turning in the girl’s brain.

Maximoff groaned, scratching her cheek as she tried to piece stuff together.

“You told me to keep a ‘low profile and trust my gut’,” she complained in a higher pitch tone while gesturing around with her hands. “And all that I got from that was meeting a bunch of unstable men who don’t seem to grasp emotional intelligence to save their lives, and way too touchy. And that’s without counting the horror tapes from the poor girl whose body I’m possessing while her spirit-”

Her rambling had sped up halfway through, words turning into a tongue twister for any person listening. It was fascinating for Rio to witness how the girl’s mutation was developing without her even noticing, blending in with such normal things like talking or moving around, and making her stand out easily. But the abrupt stop put the room in a sudden silence.

By how wide her eyes were as she looked at her, Rio could easily guess Maximoff had figured something out.

She remained quiet, waiting for her to find the words.

Maximoff pointed at her, eyebrows furrowed,” You knew her? The Wayne girl?”

“We never spoke directly, but I did know her. And heard her.”

That wasn’t a lie.

“Then this whole owed deal it’s related to her? Or most of it, at least.”

Seeing how such a young being pieced together the bits of small information she had at hand was very pleasing to the witch.

It had crossed her mind before. The thought of taking on an apprentice. It had crossed several times, and there were very few candidates she had considered worthy (with the very exception of Agatha, of course).

Only one had been oh so close to be hers by sacred ritual. A deal made by a desperate mother, looking to protect her child from Rio’s own hands.

A child who was hidden from her by none other than Bruce Wayne.

The room’s temperature grew colder at the thought of said man crossing her head. He had cheated her over and over and over and over and over and she had had enough.

Rio took a deep breath through her nose, brushing away the bangs on her face to disguise her slip of control.

“I don’t like it when somebody messes with my deals,” she said with a sickly sweet tone, starting to pace around the room.

“Bruce Wayne and his flock of little birds have been getting away from me with a little too much for my liking. And because of that, I have decided to hit him where it hurts the most. A man like him craves control. He is paranoid and needs to know all the possibilities at the palm of his hand, just so he can have the high ground in any given situation.”

She sharply whips her head back, a loud crack of bones startling Maximoff as Rio gives her a maniacal, wide smile over her shoulder. Her sharp black nail pointed at the girl, sauntering towards the metal table.

“Which is why you, my dear wheel of fortune, make the perfect piece in my chessboard table to make him suffer.”

Maximoff looked at her as if she had spouted pure nonsense. Which it probably was for her, since Rio looked like a madwoman with a chaotic glint in her eyes.

“And why should I be involved in this? I didn’t exactly choose this body.”

“True. You didn’t. But your brother did.”

That made her click her mouth shut and glare harshly at Rio. The woman inclined forward so they were eye to eye, smiling with a sharp edge at the corner of her lips.

“It’s nothing hard to do, just being yourself is doing more than enough to make my plan fall right into place. I only need you to be a tiny little less instigating and let them overthink it by themselves. And, of course, a couple of little favors that only you can help me out with.”

“Are you going to kill them?” Her tone was somewhat small and quiet. Worried, as to say.

How sweet. But that wouldn’t do.

“Sadly, no, I can’t,” Rio took notice of the tension slightly leaving the girl’s shoulders. “The Waynes are vital to the balance of this city, and I can’t mess with that. But I can make them miserable. As retribution.”

Maximoff hummed to herself, never looking away from Rio’s gaze as she thought of what to say next. Their visit was coming to an end, and she needed to get her answers quickly. Or at least, some of those answers.

“What favors would you need?”

“Just some old items that the mother of this new body of yours has entrusted to Dear Old Bruce. And anything that spirit that keeps hanging around you asks you to do.”

Maximoff gasped and looked around her before looking back at the amused ‘doctor’.

“You can see h-”

“Tick tock, pet. Last question.” That made her curse under her breath as she gave a quick glance at the door. Footsteps coming up the stairs were echoing outside the office. Maximoff looked at Rio with a reluctant air around her.

“If I do your favors,” she said quickly, standing up from the table and facing Rio directly. “Will you tell me where Billy is and help me find him?”

Rio laughed, crossing her arms as she took in her firm stance. Decision and steel in the girl’s eyes and posture.

Oh, she was keeping this Maximoff.

“Don’t you worry, pet.” She teased with a less sharp smile. Maximoff frowned.

“He will come directly to you.”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

“Would that be all, gentlemen?”

The sharp tone coming from Mr. Wayne had made the business associates look at one another in silence. The air was so tense in the meeting room that it made some of them fidget with their ties, swallow back coughs, and sweat beneath their hair implants.

A poor intern glanced nervously at his boss every 5 seconds, hoping the meeting would be dismissed sooner rather than later for the sake of everyone’s nerves.

Bruce Wayne had not come to Wayne Enterprises in a good mood.

The meeting had been scheduled with two months of anticipation. Worthington Industries had made several business proposals to ally with Wayne Enterprises in a series of funded research projects involving medical substances that have yet to be discussed. First, they had to do some research around said company, avoiding getting involved in any type of scandal before making any decisions. Then, they would weigh the pros and cons of agreeing to the proposals before deciding to come to an official meeting with the Worthington Industries CEO.

All the documents and research had been done thoroughly, and there were more pros than cons surrounding the proposals. Everyone was expecting a positive outcome from the meeting.

But Mr. Wayne’s mood had dampened any ray of hope.

As to why he was in such a mood?

That would have to do with breakfast that very morning with his daughter.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

It had been an uneventful morning. At first.

After Bruce had made sure Tim was sleeping in his own bed without any type of electronic nearby, and that Dick had gone to Barbara’s apartment to get some space to calm down for a bit away from the supposed chaos among the walls of the manor, he was eating his own plate of scrambled eggs that Alfred had made for him in the stove before he left to drive Damian to school.

Apparently, she had slept in for a bit longer, and Alfred would come for her once he had dropped Damian off.

He had gotten distracted by the sudden breakthrough of the case. By the time they finished downloading files from the hospitals and clinics around the area, Bruce was pretty sure everyone had retired for the night.

Meaning that this very morning, he would finally get to see his daughter after days of putting back the said encounter.

The feeling of patheticness loomed over him, making every bite of his food taste as bitter as his cup of black coffee.

He would never admit it to himself, but Bruce was anxious.

Would she be upset he hadn’t checked up on her? She was always so understanding and sweet. At least, that's what he had gathered from their past interactions. Perhaps he could let her stay at the manor another week if she wasn’t feeling like going back to school.

Was she scared of going out, too? He had read the police report over and over again after Dick had shoved it right into his face while yelling at him for not keeping a closer eye on her safety.

He could only imagine the feast the media would have once the information about the attack became public. The press following her around, the school getting swarmed, the flashes of camera invading her space, and making her have another public meltdown.

Maybe considering homeschooling wouldn’t be such a bad idea-

The scraping of a chair against the floor dragged him out of his head, gaze landing on the other end of the table. Far away from his spot.

She was wearing a green jacket and some dark bell-bottom jeans. A clean gauze stood on the left side of her head, which led to noticing how her hair was pulled back in what seemed like a butchered braid with some wavy curls slipping out and framing her face.

Not a single hello. Not a single good morning. Not a single glance his way.

Just the clicking of the fork against the plate as she ate from a huge pile of scrambled eggs as if she had been starved for weeks.

Bruce suddenly understood why the boys were freaking out.

(Y/N) was a simple, well-mannered, and polite. Always greeting, always offering help, and always looking for ways to be close to them. No matter how many times they avoided or ignored her efforts and advances.

If Bruce were by some chance eating at the table, she would take the spot right next to him and try to start a conversation before he excused himself under the guise of needing to finish some work.

And another thing was how impeccably she dressed. Business casual and hair down, not a single strand out of place.

Before him was the total opposite of what his daughter was supposed to be.

He cleared his throat, hoping to catch her attention since she was way too focused on her food.

She didn’t look up.

“Dear?” he questioned. “Do you feel alright?”

His breath got caught in his throat once her gaze snapped up. Making eye contact for the first time in days.

Before him stood the reflection of a woman he had failed to help and keep safe. Dark, soulful eyes staring deep into his own and making him fall back into that dreadful night, where he was too late to make a difference. Where a child lost a parent and gained a mediocre imitation of one. Where he lost another important person in his life. Where he failed a friend.

Where his daughter lost her mother.

“Quite late to be asking me that, don’t you think?” she grumbled, shoving her fork full of eggs into her mouth.

He had to take a quick sip of his coffee, feeling his throat tighten and trying to speak up at least.

“What happened to your contacts?” was all he managed to utter out. He would later realize that was not the best thing he could have said.

Those dark eyes were suddenly sharp, and Bruce could only see Bianca glaring at him as if she was ready to knock him off his seat.

“You sure you want to go down that line, Father?”

The way that she said father had him standing up from his seat, knocking the chair down to the floor, and making a clutter of noises around the room.

“Young lady, that’s not a tone you will use with me.”

He had hoped that would make her back down. Go back to the sweet girl he swore she was, because there was no way that she had changed this much. Not in the blink of an eye.

Was it though? Had it been the blink of an eye? Had it really been that fast? When was the last time they actually talked? When was the last time he had spent more than a few minutes with her?

Listened to her talk about school. About her classes. About her hobbies. Her aspirations in life. What she liked. What she disliked. Favorite foods. Favorite movies. Favorite books.

When was the last time Bruce had even hugged her?

His expectations were broken the moment she slammed her fork against the table and got up from her seat, gaze unwavering and lips pressed tight.

Before she could get another word out, two sudden presences caught their attention.

Cassandra stood by the entrance of the kitchen, with Alfred giving a heavy stare over at Bruce.

Without a second thought, the younger girl picked up her now-empty plate and gave it a quick wash in the sink. Ignoring the owlish stares from Cassandra and Bruce. Once she was done, she looked directly at Alfred with an undefined gaze from Bruce’s perspective.

“I’ll wait in the car.” She said, getting a nod from Alfred as she passed between him and Cass. The other girl gave two steps back as she followed her retreating form down the hall with her gaze.

Bruce began walking towards them. “We are not finished-”

“I believe,” Alfred cut him up both verbally and physically by stepping in front of him. “This is a good moment for everyone to have some space to think things through before escalating the situation in a way that there’s no coming back from.”

“Alfred, I need to-”

“You need to get to an important meeting and give her some space, Master Bruce.”

That got him a deep sigh from Bruce, who impatiently rubbed his chin before nodding at Alfred.

“Good. Now, if you excuse me, I can’t keep the young lady waiting.” With that, Alfred was gone.

Cassandra only looked back at Bruce once she was sure she heard the car pull away from the garage. He was looking at the empty chair where she had been sitting not too long ago. A look full of what Cass could gather as despair and confusion. It unsettled her a bit, seeing him like that.

But, she still said a few words to Bruce before walking away.

“That was on you.”

And Bruce knew she was more than right.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

His mind was stuck on that encounter all morning.

His child couldn’t have changed so drastically like that. Was it a new tactic to get his attention? Because it was working extremely well. But it didn’t make sense. His dear daughter was nothing but good intentions and wouldn’t even try to argue back with him. She didn’t even fight back with Damian, and most of the time, he had to intervene himself so it wouldn’t escalate (at least when he was present).

That hit on the head had altered her personality, and Bruce wanted his old daughter back.

It had to be that damned wound, it couldn’t be anything else. There just wasn’t another expl-

‘But there is.’ A whisper shot through his head, making him tense up.

…There was a very small alternative. But it couldn’t be. It didn’t work like that at all. He knows it.

Even if mental illnesses can be hereditary, that one couldn’t be. There were too many factors that came into play with such a condition, and he had made sure she hadn’t been exposed to any type of heavy trauma. Keeping her at an arm’s length away from his night job and all the repercussions it brought along.

But had he actually protected her enough? Did keeping her away actually prevent any trauma that could affect her personality?

No, he hadn’t.

And now he had a huge problem in his hands.

“Call to organize a meeting with Mr. Worthington as quickly as possible for negotiations. Meeting dismissed.”

Almost everyone let out a breath of relief once Mr. Wayne walked out the door with a hurried step.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

It had been such a shitty day.

First part, finally meeting the man behind this whole family madness. She was hoping to get away without interaction. Just eat her breakfast, dip, and hide in the garage so she could avoid encountering any other member of the family until Alfred came to pick her up. It was a picture-perfect plan, in her mind at least.

But her first mistake had been sitting too far away from Dear Old Bruce.

Apparently, this family was so obsessed with order and patterns, that they would have freak out if she even stepped out their imaginary drawn lines. Wayne had giving her a splitting headache as punishment for not putting that much attention to those details after she had stormed off towards the garage.

To which she responded by swinging fists at empty air before Alfred caught up to her.

‘Fuck their order and patterns. I ain’t their little doll they can manipulate around.’

That thought put her ghost companion in silence, making the headache slip away as they drove to the police station.

In the second part, the chilling interaction with Rio. Jesus, that woman could make the bogeyman sweat. She had hoped to get some answers out of her, and while she got some, she left with even more questions. And, apparently, got dragged into a messy deal with said crazy lady in order to get at least some information on where Billy was.

As long as she found the items that Rio claimed were owed to her.

Items, that she had not a fucking clue of what they were.

The only bit of information that she had was that the mother of this body (she really should start referring to the body as her own, it was getting annoying) knew about said items and their locations. Which meant that Wayne, her dear grumpy ghost bestie, would also know about these items since she would visit her mother every two weeks.

It had been served on a silver platter. All that she needed to do was ask Wayne!

But that silver platter had been thrown into the Bermuda Triangle when Wayne apologetically flicked the bathroom lights of the thrift store Alfred had taken her to give her boxes of clothes away in denial of knowing about said items.

All because her mother was in a state of delirium and mania. Meaning that any word coming from the poor woman wasn’t coherent or trustworthy.

Another dead end.

Which leads us to standing inside the record shop beside the thrift store. Gaze lost in deep thought, facing a rack of vinyl records of the pop genre, as her fingers flicked through the albums mindlessly with a frown on her face.

Just when she thought a door had opened, another ten appeared in the next room.

Rio wasn’t exactly someone reliable. Something in the back of her head was inclined to think she wasn’t even human. All the vague shit and weird mannerism seemed more than act to unsettle people. If it was an act, then she was very committed.

Still, she wasn’t to be trusted. Not when she was keeping her so in the dark.

The new information she had was still in pieces and needed to be put together with delicacy and patience, or something could slip, and she would end up even more lost than she already was.

That didn’t stop her from trying to overthink it.

‘If the deal had to do with Wayne, why would her Old Man not keep a closer eye on her? Rio is pretty hellbent on getting her stuff back if she is making me pull my weight around to find it. Does he even know her mother made a deal, or was he the one to make it? It wouldn’t make any sense if he did it, though, because then he wouldn’t have just left Wayne go around without some bodyguard.’

She pursed her lips, fingers rattling the record stand by how fast she continued to flip through them.

‘Hell, he never stopped by to check in the bedroom or even bother to pick her up at the police station. There’s no way he knows about this. He doesn’t care enough, clearly. What kind of a father acts like that around his daughter?’

Her nails began to scratch off the chipped black paint of the metal from the stand, switching her weight from leg to leg as her mind sped up in circles.

‘What parent does that? Where’s the warmth and care? Where’s the concern? Where’s the love in his actions?’

Teeth began pulling at the fragile skin of her lips, almost peeling it off. A high-pitched ring was going by her ear.

“My parents would never do that. My mom would make hell on earth to protect me. To protect us. Where is she? Is she dead? Is she gone? Where is she? Where is my mom? Where is my dad? Where? Where is my family? I need them. I want them here. HEre witH ME. HERE. HERE. HERE. HERE. HERE. WHERE ARE THEY-”

“Did Cher do something to offend you?”

A voice snapped her out of it, startling and making her jump, while looking to her side towards the person who spoke to her.

It was a guy. Just about a few centimeters taller than her, with a well-built body. Light brown hair that seemed almost ginger when the light hit just right. Blue eyes with concern and an awkward smile, dimples showing off his faint freckles over his cheeks.

He took a step back to give her some space once she looked at him down-up, giving an apologetic smile as he gestured to the record she was holding in her hands.

“Sorry for that! Just saw you almost ripping the record in half and thought that I should say something about it.” He fretted gently, hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket.

She looked down at the item and realized he was right. The plastic was torn off, and the edges of the record were already crumbled under her still-fidgeting fingers.

An embarrassed groan left her throat, covering her face with the crumbled record.

“I didn’t notice. I got lost in thought, ugh,” she urged, pulling down the record with a red face.

Great going, girlie. Now you are a criminal.

“It’s alright, I get lost in thought too!” he quipped back with a stammer and an awkward laugh.

Which plunged into an awkward silence.

Awkward enough to be contagious and make her snort a laugh as well. And making him snort as well. Both of them were laughing before calming down from the tense moment. An easy, friendly air was going around them, making her feel some weight off her shoulders.

She really needed that.

“I have seen you around, at school,” he commented. “We actually take class together, but we never actually talked before.”

That got her attention.

“Oh, yeah. I usually prefer my own… company.” That last part sounded very similar to a question.

The boy nodded in understanding. “No judgment! I can only imagine how it is for you.”

She rolled her eyes with a snort, moving back towards the records. She could only imagine how public the fact was that Wayne was the least liked amongst her own family. That doom scroll through Twitter last night was very enlightening.

“Wait! I didn’t mean it like that,” he sputtered, with a wide look, realizing how wrong his words sounded out loud.

She let him squirm for a few moments, glancing from the corner of her eye as he tried to stammer an explanation and apologies, before grinning at him. Making him stop talking and shut his mouth.

“I was just teasing. Chill out,” she trailed off, motioning at him to introduce himself.

He nervously laughed, offering his hand for her to shake.

“I swear, I have manners.” His tone was lighter, making her smile as she took his hand for a quick shake.

It caught her off guard how cold his skin was.

Almost as cold as pure ice.

“I’m Robert. Robert Drake.” He smiled brightly. “But I prefer Bobby. It’s what my friends call me.”

Bobby Drake

The young girl nodded, pleased at finally getting a name from the first friendly person of her age. A soft warmth invaded her chest.

“Well, Bobby,” she teased, making him chuckle as he took a place beside her. “Mind helping me out, hiding this broken record and picking a new one before I get banned from this place?”

Bobby hummed with a mocking tone, pretending to look busy by flipping through a few records while she waited for his answer.

“Well, I’m in desperate need of a friend and a lab partner for science class, soooo,” He drawled while giving her pleading puppy eyes.

Now it was her turn to act all busy, before nodding pleasedly.

“You got a deal, then.”

“Oh, thank god. Because I couldn’t let you walk away with that monstrosity in your hands. Do you like Chappell Roan? It doesn’t matter. I have to amend your sins one way or another.”

A friend.

She had made her first friend.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Westchester County, New York - 9:30 PM

Charles Xavier had been holed up in his office for the past two hours. There were documents all sprawled around his desk, all meticulously studied and organized in a way that was only for Charles’s thought process.

Another child had disappeared. A mutant child.

The child was on the list of possible candidates for the school. Their mutation has recently awakened (being able to go through walls and different surfaces). A very fascinating mutation, but still overwhelming for a teenage girl who didn’t understand what was happening.

They had scheduled a home visit with her parents a few weeks back, both of them willing to find the help needed for her daughter’s new development.

Then, she disappeared. Just like the other three children.

A pattern was made. And Gotham City was the hunting grounds.

“Professor, am I interrupting?”

Xavier lifted his head and smiled at the young man at the door. He opened the door wider with a small nudge with his mind.

“Come in, Scott. I was just searching around.”

Scott Summers clicked the door closed behind him, making his way towards the desk with a worried frown.

“No updates yet?”

The professor shook his head, rolling back in his chair and going around the front of the desk to be side by side with one of his oldest students.

“Unfortunately, not yet. Our ‘investigator’ just got settled in Gotham this morning.”

That made Scott grumble under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest and making Xavier give him an amused look.

“Why send him? You know how unstable he can be, and this situation is very delicate.”

“I need you here, Scott.”

The young man gave him a side eye under his red-tinted sunglasses.

“Ororo would be more suited for the job than he.”

Charles shook his head, moving his chair towards the glass-stained window that gave a view of the front yard of his mansion.

His home. His haven. His school for his children.

His children, who were taken away before knowing they were more like them. A place where they could belong.

“The students can’t know something is wrong. It will upset them, and Miss Monroe’s presence is required to keep peace and calm in the mansion. You know she is almost like a mother to the student body. We can’t take that stability, not from them.”

Scott remained quiet, moments passing before nodding with a sigh.

“Fine. But if the Batman finds out a feral man is running rampant amongst his city, I am not saving his hairy ass.”

Charles knew he was bluffing.

But he let him be. For now.

Because he was dreading the moment a certain metal bender found out about this.

And Charles knew that would be a nightmare to deal with.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Author's note: SURPRISE SHAWTIES!!!! Longest chapter up to date and with SO much information because we are finally moving foward!!! I wanted to get done with the introductions of the batfam an most of them are almost done ( I haven't forgotten about Cass and Jason, don't worry.) But we finally have Bobby with us! I was so excited to write him because i love him to bits. He's my golden puppy and I will make you guys love him. We're also back with the Saturday/Sunday updates every week! Let me know what you guys think of this chapter or theories you have in the asks or comments. I love answering! Lots of hugs and love, GG✨

Tag List:

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womanofwords · 3 months ago

Text

Everybody's Favourite (Part 2)

The car wasn't coming. Great. It was raining cats and dogs, and Alfred was visiting family and using some of his well-earned vacation days. So you were going to be walking home in the rain. Wonderful.

You kept your head down as you walked home. All the better to keep the rain out of your eyes. Besides, you'd walked this route loads of time before. You knew it like the back of your own hand. Your familiarity with this street brought you comfort.

It was probably why it was so easy to kidnap you.

You get stuffed into the backseat of a car with three very large men. They grab your student ID from around your neck to make sure that they're snatching the right kid. "Yep, this is them," one says, as the other one drives like crazy and the third frantically dials a number. "The boss is going to be quite happy."

You get delivered to the Penguin, who is pleased. "Right first time, I'm impressed," he snarks. "Don't worry, little dove, I won't hurt you, I'm just here for the ransom. Since your daddy can afford to cough up the dough, you should be out of here in a few hours. A day, at most. In the meantime, have yourself an unguided tour of the vault."

Penguin locked you in his vault of money and artwork and continued on with his day. Bruce Wayne would be calling with the ransom any minute now.

Any minute now.

"OK, what is the holdup with this ransom?" Penguin yelled. "Haven't you called them up by now?"

"We have!" a henchman assured. "He just said, 'nice try', and hung up. We sent a guy over to the house, and he still didn't believe it. They think it's a joke or a scam or something."

"WHAT?!" Penguin spluttered. "I planned a kidnapping, and he won't even believe me? Wait, where's the kid?"

"Still in the vault."

"Damn it! I'll be right back!" Penguin stammered. He opened the vault, expecting a monstrous, messy tantrum. Instead, you were wide awake, and his vault . . . was organised. Well, half-organised.

"Hi, Mr Penguin!" you chirped. "I just thought you'd appreciate if the place was a little more tidy! Alfred taught me the basics, but I've been organising all these coins and notes by country of origin!"

"How long have you been in here?" Penguin croaked.

"About five hours."

"Aren't you hungry? Thirsty? Tired?"

"I am a little, but I just figured that you wouldn't care. Everyone at Wayne Manor couldn't care less, and I live there!" Reader laughed, and everyone exchanged horrified looks behind their back.

Penguin's jaw dropped. "Well, kid, what's your favourite kind of takeout? I know a place with some really good Indian food."

Reader smiled. "Indian food sounds nice."

Part 1

Part 2 <- You are here

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie

#creative writing #my writing #writing inspiration #writers #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #batfam #yandere #platonic yandere #yandere batfam

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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omg i'm SO obsessed with roommate james like you don't understanddddd 😭💗 i've been loving the shy reader fics so far i'm so excited to see more of them!! i don't know if this would make sense w/ shy reader so honestly just write it however you want but i would loooove to see something w/ roommate james where he has friends over but is always like talking about her and checking on her and everything and his friends are just teasing him about it hahaha i think it would be so fun!! anyway tysm and i hope you have a good day!!!

Hi sweetheart! I had this scene already written but I did implement a couple of the things you requested, hope you like it <3

cw: alcohol

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Somehow, you’ve wound up basically in James’ armpit.

“Falsehoods!” James is laughing, nearly shouting, but you get the sense one needs to yell a bit to communicate in this friend group. Everyone except Lily and Remus, that is, for whom the others seem to quiet reflexively every time they start to speak. “Lies and falsehoods! If I recall, I wasn’t the one who left a pot in the sink for so long it grew mold.”

“It wasn’t my pot!” Sirius defends himself, propping himself up on Remus' shoulder to make his point. He’s somehow managed to recline on the arm of your couch, his boyfriend’s arm wrapped cautiously around his waist to keep him from slipping off. “You cooked pasta in it and then forgot!”

“Y/n,” says Lily, sitting across her girlfriend’s lap, “blink twice if you need help.”

Mary laughs, hooking her hands under Lily’s knees to pull her closer and then intertwining their fingers. This is another thing you’ve noticed about James’ friends: they have a tendency to pile. Not even necessarily with their respective significant others and seemingly regardless of the seating available; last time you came home Sirius was half across James’ lap and Lily and Remus were sitting together on the rug as if the rest of the couch wasn’t empty.

You laugh too, self-consciousness making you slip further down James’ side when the others look your way. So, it’s possible you have some idea of how you came to be basically in his armpit.

James grins down at you. “Don’t listen to them,” he stage-whispers. “We both know what a good roommate I can be, under the right management.”

Your answering smile comes far too easily. You like seeing James like this. You don’t think he’s ever not himself, but as soon as Sirius got here it’s like he dialed up to eleven. And he obviously loves his friends, entertaining them, making them laugh. You can see why, too. They’re an easy bunch to talk to.

It probably helps that James has been practically tipping ciders down your throat (he hasn’t; he’s offered them to you, and you’ve gulped them down like the nervous freak you are), but you’re actually having a good time. You felt a bit indebted after he’d bought you a pizza last week and you’d still chickened out of coming downstairs, but now you’re glad you’re here.

Your body feels loose and liquidy, and your shoulder is just starting to hurt from the position you’re in (which makes you wonder how long James’ ribs have been hurting from your shoulder digging into them) when he looks down at you again. He seems amused.

“You comfy down there?” he asks.

“Meh.” It’s an honest answer.

“Here.” He brings his arm to your shoulder, propping you up and then scooching closer to you on the couch. Now you’re not in his armpit so much as under his arm, which drops from where it’s draped across the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Even the social lubricant of alcohol can’t keep the nervous edge from your voice. “Thanks.”

“Course, love.” He gives your shoulder another little squeeze, beaming as he focuses back on the conversation.

Your chest hurts, a gratifying ache.

You manage to down another cider before his friends start saying their goodbyes, Sirius and Remus each whipping out a cigarette as soon as they’re outside while Lily and Mary fake cough and James heckles them lovingly from the doorway.

When he shuts the door he’s still smiling, so obviously content you can’t help but feel a crush of affection for him.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you say, grabbing a rag to clean up where Mary had accidentally spilled a bit of her drink.

“Of course, I told you you’re always—what are you doing?”

He sounds so affronted you actually think you’ve done something wrong. You look up from where you’re mopping up the spill, confused.

“I’m cleaning everything from tonight,” he says, still looking outraged.

You smile in relief when you realize it’s feigned. “Don’t be stupid. I was participating tonight, too.”

“You make it sound like you were an accomplice to some crime.” James sits down beside you and steals the rag from your hand, cleaning up the rest of the spill himself. “You’re off the hook, you were practically coerced.”

“I was,” you agree, standing and gathering the dishes from the coffee table instead, “but it was fun in the end. I’m a little bit glad you coerced me.”

You can hear James’ smile in his voice. “I’ll be sure to do it more often. First, I’m gonna coerce you into hanging out with us again on Friday, and then—“ He turns around, eyes narrowing as he spots the couple of glasses you’re carrying “—stop picking up my mess! Fuck, I can’t keep up with you, you’re like a machine.”

A giggle fizzes out of you. James stands and holds his hands out for them, but you take a couple of steps back. “Why can’t I help? Anyway, you’re just as clean as I am.”

“Because, it was my idea,” he laughs, pursuing you. “And I’m only clean because you’re clean.” He backs you up against the stairs, wrestling the glasses away from you with frustrating ease. “If I thought you didn’t care, this whole place would look like the inside of my room.”

You give an odd bark of laughter, leaning on the banister to look at him. He looks ridiculously smug, both glasses held in one big hand. “Oh my god, you’re so nice. It’s pathological.”

“Wow.” Some of the smugness falls away as James grins at you. “That’s a real one.”

“What?”

“Your smile,” he says. You still don’t get how he can do this eye contact thing, looking at you so openly while he seems so sincere. Your own gaze flees downward, warmth rushing to your cheeks. “I don’t get to see it a lot, out in the open like that. It’s really lovely.”

He reaches for you, doing this weird chin-pinching thing that shouldn’t be half as endearing as it is. You roll your eyes, but your mouth seems stuck. You don’t know how to respond.

James doesn’t seem to notice, taking the glasses with him into the kitchen. You grab a few more off the table and follow him. He’s turned the light above the sink on, but the rest of the kitchen is dim. His long sleeves are pushed up to his elbows as he makes soapy water in the sink.

As you come in, he turns around to take the glasses from you, the light from above casting a glowy halo of his thick brown hair. He’s so beautiful it makes your stomach hurt. You’re suddenly worried you might be just inebriated enough to do something stupid.

James narrows his eyes at you teasingly as he snatches the glasses away. “Enough of that,” he scolds.

“Are you sure you don’t want any more help?” you ask.

He rolls his eyes. You’re pretty sure he didn’t do that so much before he started hanging out with you. On him, it somehow manages to look fond. “Positive,” he says. “Go stop being useful.”

You catch yourself biting the inside of your lip. “Okay. Then I think I’m gonna head up for the night.”

“Yeah?” James looks over, and you wonder for a second if something in your voice has given you away. He looks confused, a bit worried, but then that melds into a soft sweetness. He gives you a smile. “Okay. Sweet dreams.”

“You too,” you say, doing your best to smile in response before you round the corner to the stairs.

Your brain feels fuzzy. You’re not sure if that’s from alcohol or fatigue or something else entirely, but it feels good to put on your pajamas, clean your face in front of the mirror. The covers on your bed are soft and heavy. You can hear the kitchen sink running downstairs as you slip beneath them, James finally starting to rinse the dishes before he turns in for the night, too.

You think of his boisterous laugh, the weight of his arm around your shoulders, his thumb pressing into your chin.

When you close your eyelids, you half expect to find a faint outline of his smile impressed upon the insides.

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axxxx13 · 2 months ago

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Theo is Liam's anchor, okay? It's basically canon, right? But can we talk about how absurd the reason is?

I mean what happens is literally this: Theo, after basing his entire life plan on triggering Liam's rage, comes back from hell, looks at Liam, looks at his IED, looks at the pack having trouble controlling him and is like "well maybe continuing to push violence on a kid who's been abused his whole life isn't the way to control his violence" and surprise, surprise, HE'S RIGHT.

Like, that's pretty much Liam's story.

1. We don't know much about his childhood but it's likely that he was abused by his biological father (seriously how often do we see Liam interact peacefully with a grown man? Maybe Coach and partly David but nothing more).

2. There are several things that suggest that Liam has always had social/relationship issues: it is clear that he had behavioral issues well before the diagnosis (the fight with Hayden) and that he was often excluded (his only friend is Mason) and maybe even bullied (his comfort zone is literally a team sport made to vent aggression in a healthy way and at the same time bond with other people).

3. Brett. Briam or not, whatever happened between them is as toxic as Chernobyl: can we talk about how tragic the zoo scene is? It is literally physical, psychological and emotional violence all together in the only space that Liam considered safe, which was lacrosse.

4. The management of his IED. This is probably a detail but I have always found the risperidone thing absurd because usually this kind of disorder is treated with a lot of psychotherapy (especially in young subjects) and drugs are a kind of safety/stabilization net. From the way it is told in the series instead it seems that Liam went to a psychiatrist who gave him a sheet with a diagnosis and a blister of pills and Liam spent weeks (the time of transfer from one school to another) like a zombie. They really literally inactivated him as if he were a bomb.

5. Liam's transformation was perhaps one of the most traumatic (of those we see). When he tells David that it was his fault that Scott broke his ankle? The scene on the roof? When they trick him into going to the "party" at the lake house? When he says that his parents will see him as a monster? When Mason tells him that he is ignoring him and Liam can't tell him why? It is so heartbreaking that I could cry.

6. After the transformation Liam doesn't have a second to rest or understand what he has become and how to deal with it: first he literally develops a form of PTSD because of the Berserkers with nightmares and hallucinations (AT 14 YEARS OLD) then he is put on a list where his death is worth 8 million dollars (the printer scene is horrifying) and finally he is thrown into a well by one of his teammates (another crack in his "safe place") with the knowledge that he has a wound that will kill him. ALL THIS WITHOUT HE BEING ABLE TO TALK ABOUT IT TO ANYONE BECAUSE MASON DIDN'T KNOW ANYTHING.

7. Theo (and yes, unfortunately we can't rule it out). Theo turns Liam into the monster he's afraid of being, literally, and if Liam doesn't kill Scott it's just for a series of completely random circumstances. And obviously the consequences of this are devastating both for the treatment he receives from others (justifiable of course) and for his own mind which obviously doesn't help him process what happened.

8. In all of this what everyone does to block his fits of rage is using further violence (which could be linked to having actually suffered physical abuse). Scott and Stiles push him into the shower multiple times (and we clearly see him hit his head), Derek picks him up by the neck in the locker room, Brett tackles him on the field, Theo knocks him out at the zoo (5 times), etc...

Liam has lived in a spiral of endless violence practically his entire life and Theo after TWO times of seeing him have one of his outbursts (the Brett shirt scene and the scene with Nolan at the zoo) understands that violence does not calm him down or help him but is only a temporary defuse that actually adds to the spiral. Theo watches Liam TWICE have a tantrum and then manages to calm him down only by talking to him about how to cover up a murder.

Theo literally knows nothing about the world except death and fear and violence and yet he goes to Liam and manages to give him an ALTERNATIVE. Theo goes to Liam and is like "just because violence is what you're used to doesn't mean it's your only option". Theo is the only one who somehow manages to find a flaw in Liam's system that pulls him out of that spiral of violence instead of pushing him into it. Theo who is literally the apotheosis of violence in all its forms is the only one who manages to treat Liam with kindness.

Theo is the only one who can always treat Liam as if he were someone fragile instead of something unstable.

#Liam just need a hug #My baby 😭#thiam #teen wolf #liam dunbar #teen wolf thiam #headcanon #character analysis #theo reaken

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lanf1an · 6 months ago

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SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.2 - january 5 2025

pt.1 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10

wordcount: 1810

The door of the ski lodge burst open, making you look up from your drink. Max appeared, the rest of the group having found Lando and you, waving and dragging his snowboard behind him, with Dylan close on his heels. Flo and Cisca followed.

“Absolute perfection out there,” Max declared, his grin as wide as the horizon. He dropped into the chair across from you and immediately launched into a story about his wipeout. Dylan followed, unstrapping his boots with practiced ease.

“Max, you forgot to mention the part where I saved your ass after you faceplanted.”

“Details,” Max said with a dismissive wave before turning to Lando. “Hey, Lan, you know what I’ve been thinking? Quadrant should sponsor Dylan.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” Max said, gesturing toward Dylan. “He’s Red Bull-sponsored already, and he’s basically a legend. Plus, Dylan would kill it in the merch.”

Dylan laughed, shaking his head. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not exactly esports material, and I think Lando’s got the whole ‘speed’ thing covered.”

Lando leaned back in his chair, considering. “It’s not a bad idea. Could bring a new vibe to the team, snowboarding isn’t racing.”

“Exactly!” Max exclaimed, clearly pleased with himself.

The conversation drifted as the group packed up their stuff and made their way back to the lodge. You watched Dylan joking with Cisca, Cisca had dragged Dylan into a conversation about snowboarding tricks and she was clustered to his lips, he was laughing as he sketched a move with his hands.“You’ve got to teach me that,” she said, eyes wide with excitement. “Anytime” Dylan said with a grin. his easy charm blending seamlessly with the group, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for him.

Later, back at the lodge, Magui arrived, her presence lighting up the room. Lando was quick to meet her by the doorway, pulling her into a easy kiss before taking her coat. They looked perfect together, the F1 driver and the model—a picture straight out of a magazine. Their reunion was quiet and easy, as though they were used to these quick and fleeting moments together. This time she was also only staying for a few days.

You turned back to the kitchen, focusing on the mugs of hot chocolate you were preparing. Dylan leaned in the door opening, watching you with a soft smile.

“Should I take over?” he asked. “You’ve been hostess of the year this trip.”

You laughed, handing him a steaming mug. “I think I’ve got it under control. Go mingle.”

He gave you a mock salute and wandered back to join the others

You busied yourself setting the table for dinner, Lando helping.

Dinner was a lively affair, with Max recounting his earlier escapades and Cisca chiming in with sarcastic commentary. Magui's laugh ringing out at all the right moments, but mostly at Lando’s stories, which were less frequent since they were having quiet conversations with the two of them, keeping to themselves, her hand resting on Lando’s arm as if it belonged there.

As the evening wore on, the group moved from dinner to games and then to music and dancing. The wine flowed freely, laughter and warmth filling the lodge. By the time the night wound down, most of the group was sprawled across the couches and floor, drowsy but content.

You found yourself beside Lando on the couch, the fire casting a warm glow over the room. He leaned against the armrest, his half-empty glass of wine dangling from his fingers. His gaze was fixed on the flickering flames.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tucking your feet beneath you.

Lando turned to you, his usual smirk replaced with something quieter. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous territory for you,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

He huffed a laugh. “You’re hilarious.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice quieter. “Do you ever feel like… like you’re just going through the motions?” Lando asked suddenly, his voice low. “Like you’re living the life everyone expects you to, but it’s not really yours?”

You blinked confused, caught off guard by his sudden unexpected choice of subject. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, swirling the wine in his glass. “Magui’s great. She is. But sometimes I wonder if we’re together because we want to be or because it just… fits the narrative. F1 driver and model. Picture-perfect.”

You didn’t respond immediately, sensing he needed to say more.

“You and Dylan…” Lando continued, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “You guys are so natural. You actually know each other, and it works. It’s real. I want that. Something real.”

“Lando…” you started, unsure of what to say. “You’ll have that too. You’ve never even wanted that yet—focusing on racing, and look where that’s brought you.”

“You know what, Fewtrell? You’ve got it good with Dylan. That’s what I want. Someone who actually gets me. Not just someone who… looks good on my arm.” Lando repeated himself.

“You’re drunk, Lan.” you concluded.

“No, I mean it. F1 relationships… they’re all the same. Shallow. Temporary. But you and Dylan… that’s real. I want that.”

You sensed he wasn't going to give it a break. You gave a short laugh, shaking your head. “Lando, you haven’t even been looking for something real.” you also repeated yourself, hoping he would hear it now.

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been focused on winning races and kissing other girls in clubs,” you shot back, tone light but edged with meaning. “You don’t get to complain about not having something real when you’ve never made room for it.”

Lando winced, the guilt flashing across his face. You know you should judge him for it—anyone else, and you probably would have. But you also knew his world was different. A life on the road, racing nearly every weekend, with a level of attention and temptation most people couldn’t imagine.

You softened slightly. “Look, I know it’s hard. F1 relationships aren’t exactly a blueprint for stability. You barely see each other because you’re always traveling, and there are... distractions. But if you really want something real, it’s not going to fall into your lap. You’ve got to make space for it.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” he said defensively, though the edge in his voice was weaker now.

“Because I know you,”

His shoulders sagged, and the guilt returned, more evident this time. “Okay. Maybe I haven’t. But I want it now,” he said, quieter, almost like a confession.

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, so now you’ve decided you want it all?”

He frowned slightly, unsure where you were going with this.

“You know, the McLaren constructor’s championship, driver’s world champion…” You gestured vaguely, your tone laced with playful sarcasm. “You can’t have everything, Lando. Life doesn’t work that way.’’

Lando leaned his head back against the couch, his gaze flickering to you. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course, I’m always right,” you said, sticking out your tongue, having had enough of this serious conversation this late at night, sleepiness taking over.

He glanced at you, a faint smirk forming. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

— London, november 14 2015

At sixteen year old, it had felt like a disaster. Not in a catastrophic way—nothing earth-shattering had gone wrong—but in a teenage life it was one of the worst things. Her first time with her then-boyfriend, a sweet enough guy who she thought had cared. She’d expected… something. Fireworks, a sense of closeness, maybe even just a feeling of satisfaction. But all she’d been left with was disappointment and a desperate need to shake it off.

When Max hadn’t answered her texts, she’d turned to the one other person who always seemed to know what to say—or at least how to distract her.

Lando had shown up within ten minutes of her cryptic “What are you doing right now?” text, a bag of chips in one hand and a pack of her favorite chocolate in the other.

“Alright,” he’d said, flopping onto the couch beside her. “What’s up? Max is out of commission?”

She hadn’t meant to tell him. She’d thought maybe they’d just watch a movie or play a game so she’d feel distracted. But the words had spilled out before she could stop them.

“It sucked Lan,” she admitted, her voice cracking between a laugh and a cry. “I thought it would be… I don’t know. Better.”

Lando blinked, clearly trying to process what she’d just said. “Wait, are you saying—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, burying her face in her hands. “And don’t make it weird, okay?”

“I’m not making it weird,” he protested, though his tone was slightly higher than usual. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, his expression a mix of surprise and something she couldn’t quite place. “What, you didn’t think I’d ever have sex?”

“No, I mean—yeah, obviously, you would. I just didn’t think…” He trailed off, ruffling his hair awkwardly. “Never mind. What happened?”

And so she told him. About the awkward pauses, the fumbling, the little to no attention for her, and the overwhelming sense that something was missing.

“It’s not supposed to feel like that, right?” she asked, her voice small.

Lando had been quiet for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t think there’s a ‘supposed to.’ It’s different for everyone, but… yeah, it probably shouldn’t feel like that. You want me to go beat him up? I’m not that big, but I’m scrappy.”

She huffed a laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Great. Glad to know I’m just unlucky, then.”

“Hey,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder. “It’s definitely not you. Sometimes it’s just… the wrong person. Or the wrong timing. Or both.”

“Thanks, Dr. Norris,” she teased, but her smile was genuine.

They’d spent the rest of the night watching the movie and talking about everything and nothing. By the time he got up to leave, the heaviness in her chest had lifted, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude.

As he slipped on his jacket, he turned to her, a familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Can’t believe the first time your first time isn’t with me, it doesn’t work out. Mistakes, Fewtrell.”

She rolled her eyes, groaning. “Oh my god, Lando.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, winking as he opened the door. “We could have had an actual good first time, you know. Just saying, everything’s better with me.”

“Get out,” she said, throwing a pillow at him as he laughed and ducked out of the room.

But even as the door clicked shut behind him, she found herself smiling, shaking her head at his ridiculousness. Only Lando could turn a moment like that into something lighthearted without dismissing how she felt.

—

WN: Hi guys!! Thanks so much for reading!! Hope you like it! Let me know what you think, not my favorite chapter.... but bear with me please!! I'm open for all suggestions and feedback! Posting part 3 tomorrow!

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05

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funpoire · 4 months ago

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What I think is going to happen in book 8

this post is a side note for me. to see if my medium power is real. Also, I would love to know what you guys think

Sebek and yuu friendship. I think Sebek will be introduced in the first-year group by Yuu.

Mickey comes back. I think in this book we will see him even more. Understand why he is in the mirror.

Finally, understand the weird dream Yuu had. Why do they dream of the Great 7, why it’s happening before before/during overblot?

Crowley's true self (not him being Malleus's father). He is the reason Grim overblot I’m telling you. Look at this post for more info about why I think he is a bad guy

Yuu going home without telling anyone / not on purpose. 1) Trying to reach Mickey and traverse the mirror in their room like Alice. 2) Crowley tries the spell to go home and make a mistake.

Yuu is not going home I’m telling you. They are going to be in some different place with Mickey or related to the great Seven (omg yuu going back in time)

Yes this thing is only around yuu cause I need more content with the mc

Ace flirting with yuu (trying to at least have something right). Or at least Ace finally showing he does care about Yuu deeply.

First year sleepover before yuu go home. Very hurt/comfort scene. Where they all got their bed next to each other.

Lot of tears

Grim overblot after yuu go home because he is so sad and can’t absorb the blot anymore.

Yuu coming back and finding a way to travel between words

The ending being « and it was just a dream » (I’m burning aniplex if this is the ending)

The theory that yuu is dead being confirmed. I’m not really into this theory but there are so many references to death that I can a little bit understand why this theory exists in the first place. But maybe this theory could have a twist like everyone at home thinks yuu is dead. If you know what I mean

The theory of time loops. Imagine 2 seconds reading a chapter and then in it boom the game acts like it reset. That would be so cool. (Rip 4th wall)

Oh, you think Book 7 was giving you a heart attack? Get ready for book 8 with more lore drops, more « Omg is he dead » and ofc « Where is yuu? ». Book 7 was the calme before the storm

Even longer book

Yuu and grim relationship getting more developed with angst and trauma

The basic “let’s all remember the good times” and it’s a flashback of all the sweet moments in each book. This is the most basic thing media have ever done and i fear twisted wonderland will do the same. Not complaining ofc.

I smell the fan service for shipper in this book don’t know why. I know twisted wonderland is not a game to do that kind of thing (they are) but i can already imagine a chapter were you wondering if the character is truly talking about friendship or trying to have more. i’m watching you adeuce

They all using the power of friendship

At the end ramshackle dorm will be used by all the student to hangout or even maybe be a new dorm. Seems like bittersweet because that means Yuu’s home getting use for something else after they are gone.

Grim : 1) going back to his original habitat or even owner (i will hit my head against a wall) 2) getting adopted by adeuce or Idia (again hitting my head against the wall) after yuu is gone

Bittersweet ending. I don’t like bad ending but i feel like the ending would feel sad cause at the end of the day yuu have to go home and leave all the memories behind them.

Timeskip: First years being dorm leader or being third year now (tears and hitting the wall)

A possible RSA development

The more i think about this book the more i feel like going to therapy.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst mc #twisted wonderland yuu #yuu oc #twst yuu #ace trappola #twst sebek #twisted wonderland sebek #sebek zigvolt #ace twst #ace twisted wonderland #dire crowley #book 8 #book 8 twst #twst theory

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jsooly · 5 months ago

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death in the family (4) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, with a lot of time on your hands, you look into the RDA hoping to find spider.

a meatier chapter to make up for the break i took <3

(1) / . . . / (7) / (8*) / (9* - ur here! ☆)

+ chapters with an * beside it means that it’s following atwow plot line as opposed to disconnected scenarios

living at the human base was an adjustment. a week in and you still hadn't completely come to terms with it. for one, you had a lot more time on your hands without not-so-little ones to supervise.

you tried to busy yourself with menial tasks. calibrating balances, watching the old logs, getting upset over the old logs, reading and correcting norm's scientific studies... the base was nothing like hometree, and even the rocky expanses of high camp was homier than the metal box you found yourself in. the incessant buzz of the research equipment made it hard to not be antsy, and the fluorescent lighting above your designated bunk was a poor excuse for the gentle light of the sun.

thankfully you did get a room to yourself with all the basics. a desk, bed, mirror, and bathroom. despite being human, you had little experience with human surroundings and things, and you had no possessions to occupy the furniture they provided you. you found it bitterly funny that you had a physical reminder of everything you lost.

norm knocked on your door. "hey." he pressed his lips together in an awkward smile. "your mother left this for you."

you sat up on your bed, your brows furrowing in confusion. "when?"

"about a day before they left." norm dropped a beaded necklace into your cupped hands. "i'm sorry i didn't remember sooner, i was..."

"busy?" you finished for him, not meeting his eye as you turned the jewelry over in your palms.

"yeah."

that was also a theme you were recognizing. norm had a family of his own—mated with an olangi woman and had two kids. between that and his studies, he was often away from the base.

you held up the necklace, letting it dangle in front of you. it was very... neytiri. the garment was layered 3 times, with a multitude of beads colored blue and brown along the woven string.

"she said it was hers a while back. one she grew out of." norm explained.

"why didn't she give it to me when she was here?"

"i..." norm's head tilted, his eyes flickering up to the ceiling as he searched for an answer. "this held a weight of finality for her. she wants to hear how you like it when you see each other again."

you quirked a faint smile, removing your current piece and hooking neytiri's around your neck. even though it was designed for a 8ft tall woman, it fit perfectly against your chest. it even smelled like her.

you sighed deeply, your moment cut short when norm cleared his throat. your focus snapped to him expectantly.

"i've got to go out again. i'll probably be a few days, at most." he informed you. "you remember the rules, right?"

you nodded, smiling politely as he left you to your thoughts. you weren't exactly sure of the details of the instructions norm received from jake. for the most part, you were free to do what you wanted as long as you didn't wander too close to the RDA base.

but you made a promise to kiri, and you were never one for following orders anyway. now, more than ever.

—

"the location of jake sully." general ardmore enunciated her words.

spider was fastened against the interrogation machine, mechanical panels of green light whirring around him in a blur. behind the RDA general, a map of his brain was blown up, scientists buzzing around it like flies searching for their last meal.

"a single thought, and we'll see it." she continued monotonously, "we know you know where he is."

"i don't know! i swear!" spider screamed, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he fought a battle against his very own mind. his eyes squeezed shut, gritting his teeth to zero in on the pain.

quaritch observed the boy, letting the interrogation continue for a few seconds longer before pulling the plug. the general whipped to face him, disgruntled, but he held out a giant blue hand to calm her.

"let me try the personal approach."

"you're not his father." ardmore reminded him, her eyes cold and calculating. "i meant to discuss something i saw on your fallen soldier's body cam, by the way."

quaritch's eyes momentarily drifted to a shuddering spider, blood trailing out of his nose.

"what?" quaritch answered the general.

"you encountered another savage human, did you not?"

"yeah." quartich replied, wanting to speed up the conversation so he could make his play at spider. "do we have to do this now—"

"did you notice she didn't have a gas mask?"

the general's words made him freeze. huh. he, in fact, did not notice that.

"and she was breathing just fine." ardmore scoffed, stepping off the interrogation platform and rubbing her temples. "wonder what freak of nature cooked her up. regardless, she could be a step further in solving the problem of sustaining human life on pandora. she's a person of interest."

"i assume jake sully took her when he ran and hid." quaritch mentally rifled through his memories for any indication of your continued stay in the forest. by his understanding, you were a sully as well.

"that's your first mistake." ardmore's voice was clipped as she stormed off. "just keep an eye out. and if she did flee with the family, don't kill her."

quaritch tossed an unimpressed look at ardmore. he didn't care about the girl, but duty was duty.

"i'm gonna talk to the kid," quartich circled back to his original task. ardmore waved him off.

as if talking would work on spider—and it didn't. quaritch sat on the table next to spider, trying to appeal to his need to escape from here, the tantalizing chance of being out with the recom group. he knew the boy would scheme against them, but he figured he could handle anything the runt tried.

if anything, he was glad spider was the only connection to jake sully he had to tame in order to pursue the enemy.

"i'm not going to ask you to betray jake sully. i know you're not going to do that. you're loyal, and... i admire loyalty." quaritch's lips twitched up in a smile. "just... ride along."

spider refused to look at his pseudo-father, but he wasn't going to pass up that deal. anything to get out of there.

soon enough he was on the squad's airship. quaritch's heavy hand gripped his shoulder, pushing him down into a seat.

"you listen up," he towered over him. "there's a tracker built in that mask. we hit the ground and you take off, i'll have you back in two minutes and i'll give you an old school ass whippin'. understood?"

spider rolled his eyes at him, writhing in the mutant's iron grip.

"understood?" quaritch repeated, his glare sharp and unforgiving.

spider narrowed his eyes, "yes sir." he responded derisively.

when the recoms found a clearing in the forest, they stationed their ship and huddled up among the lush greenery.

"wherever jake sully is, we'll find him." quaritch promised, determination set in his features. "and his batshit crazy wife, too."

he earned a round of murmured chuckles from his squad.

"matter fact, every one in the sully lineage is a pain in the ass." quaritch rested his hands on his belt as he continued. "the oldest son took out zhang. the little ones bit y'all, and their human adoptee put more holes in this squad than i can count on one hand." he clicked his tongue in disappointment. "that's not good. we can't have that. which reminds me of our second objective: bring the girl in for testing."

spider frowned, his mind racing to decipher their intentions. but you should be long gone by now, so his worries subsided.

"if that girl can be just as savage as the rest of 'em, we should have no problem going full na'vi. we're already blue."

spider thought it laughable when he listened to them planning to go 'full na'vi.' he couldn't help but think that it would be easy as pie to mislead them, since they were stupid enough to entrust their learning to him.

oh yeah, there was no way these guys were catching jake sully anytime soon. not if he had any say in the matter.

—

you felt much more comfortable in the forest. sounds of your footsteps didn't echo behind you and for once, you breathed in fresh air instead of the musk of scientists parked in front of their microscope for three days straight.

well, you were mostly soundless. the beads of neytiri's necklace click clicked together every time you took a big leap. but you figured you blended in well enough to the soundboard of pandora.

crouching atop the thick branches a ways away from the RDA base, you caught sight of quaritch hanging out the side of an airship that was taking off.

you followed from a distance, remaining perched and hidden among the leaves. you craned your neck out, eyes peering down at them. you could make out the bandages over the wounds you inflicted. and—

"spider." you whispered before you could stop yourself. he was okay.

though you could hardly call being right in the palms of your enemy 'okay.' your first instinct was to leap out but you silenced the urge and pondered your next move. you knew firsthand you couldn't take them all, so you trailing behind them was all you could do until you found the right opportunity.

—

meanwhile, after a treacherous flight over a raging sea, the rest of the sullys found uturu with the na'vi of awa'atlu, a metkayina clan. no one was happy to begin with, and the rocky start with their hosts didn't help with their moods.

"don't cause trouble." jake warned them in their family huddle. "learn fast, pull your weight."

the soft cries of their youngest caught everyone's attention, all heads turning in her direction.

"i wanna go home," tuk sobbed, her usually bright eyes blurry with tears. "i miss y/n."

"aw, tuk," neytiri cooed with sympathy, her head tilting in concern.

"this is our home now." jake pulled her into his side, squeezing her comfortingly when her head knocked against his chest in defeat. "and soon enough, y/n will be able to live with us."

"what does your father always say?" neytiri supported her husband, giving her children expectant looks.

"sullys stick together." they droned unenthusiastically in unison.

"that's right," jake nodded, a sad yet hopeful smile on his face. "sullys stick together."

tsireya beckoned them outside, and they rushed into the water. that was one thing they were excited about. tuk waddled behind her older brothers', their flashy diving throwing her off guard. she whimpered softly as she glimpsed at the deep water, but after remembering she leaped off a waterfall with you, she figured she could handle a couple feet's worth of water.

she took a few steps back before catapulting herself off the walkway with an excited whoop.

she surfaced with a gasp followed by a bright laugh. "i wish y/n was here, she'd love this!"

"y/n?" aonung treaded water, approaching the group as they surfaced and breathed in deeply. "who is this y/n?"

"just our sister back—"

"shhh, tuk!" lo'ak snapped, lightly shoving her shoulder.

"what?" she whined, her face disappearing underwater momentarily. she returned above water with a glare.

"you have left behind a sister?" aonung scoffed in disbelief. "what, is she more ugly than you?"

lo'ak bared his teeth but before he could bite back, neteyam stepped in. "she's older than us, old enough to live by herself."

"she's staying with our human friends—"

"tuk!" lo'ak hissed, rearing on his youngest sister with an incredulous look. "take a hint!"

"what?" she whined again, more aggressively. "it's true!"

"they don't need to know everything!"

"ahhh," a stupid smirk wormed its way onto aonung's face, looking at tsireya and roxto for support in his interrogation. "is this sister a demon?"

"aonung." tsireya cut in sharply, her brows knitted. he ignored her, enjoying how visible lo'ak's rage was.

"i am not surprised. after all, you all are contaminated with demon's blood."

"let it go." neteyam bit out in lo'ak's ear, pushing him as best he could in the water. lo'ak, a million retorts dormant on his tongue, took his older brother's advice and tore himself out of the water, storming along the walkway back to their marui.

"wait!" tsireya called behind them helplessly. she swam closer to the walkway as neteyam helped pull tuk out of the water. "i apologize for my brother. he has no manners. please, come back out with us."

neteyam flashed her a brief, appreciative smile. "we'll be back in a few minutes. i promise."

the minute he turned his back to walk off, his smile immediately dropped and he let out a deep sigh. his work was definitely cut out for him.

—

you watched as spider taught the recoms how to tell if a fruit was poisonous or not. eventually they broke their huddle to go harvest what would be lunch, dinner, and probably breakfast.

strangely enough, a seed of eywa floated out of nowhere and found its resting place on your new necklace. wildly confused but preoccupied with spider, you shooed it away.

now or never. you told yourself, skillfully descending the tree. landing without a sound, you stalked through the bushes, hanging low to the ground.

you snuck up behind them, crouching just behind spider as he looked on with crossed arms, like a schoolteacher supervising kindergarteners during recess.

you grabbed his wrist. "spider. come on, let's go." you whispered urgently.

he tensed up, startled, resisting your grip. "y/n? why are you—"

"we can chat later. come on, they're all distracted."

"i can't."

"why?"

"tracker." he tapped his mask.

your stomach flipped. shit. how are you going to work around that? you sunk back down out of sight.

"okay. face them, act normal. don't react, and don't talk." you whispered your instructions. "i'm gonna ask you questions. show one finger for yes, two for no."

he folded his arms behind his back, rocking on the balls of his feet.

"are you okay?" you asked.

he held up a finger. yes.

"okay. do they know jake left?"

yes. his single finger remained extended.

"do they know where they are?"

he flashed two fingers. no.

"but they're still pursuing them." you asked for clarification.

yes.

"can they track them?"

yes.

"they can. with what? radio chatter?"

yes, he indicated, but made a keep going motion with his hands.

"airships?"

yes.

okay. you thought. at least you knew jake and the rest weren't about to contact the human base anytime soon, if ever.

you clutched your head. spider's tracker put a dent in your plans, but you weren't totally surprised. and idea popped into your head. your fingers curled around your own comm choker, snapping it off your neck.

checking to see if the coast was clear, you tied it around spider's wrist. thankfully, it looked like any other omaticayan bracelet.

"i just tied my comm to you." you explained. "i'll reconnect to the system with a spare back at the base. use it whenever you feel the need to or get a chance."

he raised one finger to show he understood.

"round up!" quaritch's booming voice echoed even in the open space. "let's check out the loot."

"i'll see you." you whispered, patting his arm in farewell before sneaking off to a safe distance once more. you caught spider's faint nod before leaving.

tracker in the gas mask. you pursed your lips, racing against the sunset back to base. what could you possibly do about that?

—

"lo'ak, go back out there with your siblings. your hosts are waiting." jake ordered his son firmly, watching the boy pace anxiously.

"they can insult us all they want just cuz they decide to be decent people and house us?" lo'ak sneered.

"hey." jake snapped, eyes narrowing. "none of that. go outside."

lo'ak rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he begrudgingly obeyed his father's orders.

as soon as he left, jake sunk into a seat, dropping his face into his hands. "this was the right thing to do." he whispered, but it teetered between a statement and question of confidence.

"no use second guessing yourself now." neytiri advised, stoking the fire.

a beat of silence passed between them. gentle ocean breeze whistled past their marui, filling the atmosphere with a cool touch.

"what do you think she's doing?" jake mumbled.

"sleeping, hopefully." neytiri hummed with a far-off smile.

"knowing her?" jake chuckled, shaking his head. "definitely not."

they shared soft laughter, competing for who's prediction was the most accurate.

if only they knew you were single-handedly trying to undermine the RDA's operations.

. . .

thanks for reading! <3

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @dae-dreamer @delirious-dolce @strawbaerriesvt @avatar-lover @ryiana @lxon-kxnnedy @zukki33 @chalahyung01 @ssc7514 @shmaptainbonky @aureolinb @whosbibi2000

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borkunlimited · 4 months ago

Text

Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 8

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Angst, Predator/Prey

TW: Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Guns, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dissociation, Trauma, Blood, Cursing

Chapter Summary: The more fierce the action, a more extreme reaction. He had long abandoned his scales but he would gladly become a monster to ward off trespassers that would enter your forest. When dawn arrives, would you see your dragon in the horizon?

Author's Note: This went through so much revisions and I had to talk to my beta reader many times about how certain scenes should go. (I just have ridiculously high standards.) Many parts in this chapter had transformed from what I have in mind, mostly for cohesion but I am quite satisfied because I still managed to retain the canon events I set.

To everyone, thank you for reading. Your comments make me smile and while I do write for myself, I never regret the day I shared this to the world.

Tagging: @phisen @wrimaira

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

8: My Dearest, Enduring

A population of less than 50.

Louis knows the little community of prey hybrids residing here in this corner of the N109 zone basically know each other and everyone, to his surprise, is very cordial with the predator hybrids who come by to shop and buy artisan goods.

Good.

The residents here are good people.

He doesn’t really know there is a community here after becoming the head of this organization composed of lion hybrids and since then, he had made up his mind that protecting the residents here should be a top priority.

A hypocrite, Louis knows he is one having been raised in one of the more fortunate prey hybrids who taught him how to play with the rules the humans had set and it is only because he is rebelling against his father that he realized not all hybrids are as lucky as he is.

Perhaps he is even more of a hypocrite every time he reminds each resident here to be wary of the predator hybrids they welcome in their homes like friends because he had grown to respect the rowdy group of lion hybrids that followed his every command.

Even then, his worries are heard and the older prey hybrids understand his concerns except for the younger ones and one of them is you.

You were so polite.

Polite on telling him off and you weren’t even sarcastic, you are just so blatantly honest.

“Thank you, Mister Louis but Skye likes his food cooked so I am sure the rumor isn’t true.”

It was amusing, hilarious even how you brushed off his warning just like that but even then, Louis had already made up his mind to watch over you and this community no matter how stubborn some of you can be.

“The tailor shop owner is on the line.”

“The old deer?”

“Yeah, he is asking if we can drop by and check on his daughter,” the older lion hybrid holding the phone answered, covering the receiver to keep the conversation between them, his eyes flicking at the clock nearby.

It would be a miracle if your father can catch the last train back and any taxi drivers charge anyone who wants to go at the N109 zone with exorbitant prices.

“Can’t he just ask his son-in-law for that?”

“I don’t think they have any relatives- Wait, you mean Sylus ?”

“Who else? That dragon is coming there almost everyday that the miss and him might as well be married.”

The older lion hybrid laughed at the young deer’s remark but relented, answering your father that Sylus would be the better alternative but his smile turned into a frown as he continued to listen to the other line.

“What’s wrong?”, Louis asked, his brows furrowed and the lion hybrid put down the phone after telling your father they would come check.

“He said Sylus isn’t answering.”

“Must be out there smuggling god knows what.”

“Are you sure? Because he said he called the shop again just now and his daughter didn’t answer.”

The curtains of the open window billowed against the cold breeze, a silence settling inside the office.

“And then I thought that son of a bitch is down bad-”, Louis mumbled, grabbing his coat hanging on the nearby armchair and the older lion hybrid did the same, their footsteps thudding against the hardwood floor.

Did Sylus manage to deceive everyone here?

No.

No, Louis saw how that man held you before you two went out yesterday. Both of you were the talk of the community, no, the entire N109 zone. The little display of affection where Sylus spun you around like both of you were newly-weds had turned everyone’s heads and people are convinced that you were able to do the impossible.

The unthinkable.

In your hand, Sylus had willingly placed his leash for you to hold and Louis doubts that you even know it.

As Louis took his place in the passenger seat in front, he silently prayed that your father was simply an overprotective parent tonight.

But, when he gazed at his reflection in the side mirror, a quiet thought passed in his head-

-Something even more dangerous is lurking in a place already crawling with beasts and oddly enough, a small voice is telling him it isn’t Sylus.

────────────────────

The little baseball team always loves watching the evening cartoon reruns on the old television your father placed on the receiving area of your old shop.

They were such tall hybrid children for their age and oddly enough, they all managed to huddle together in front of the small screen, their attention towards the little pink dog hybrid and his adoptive human grandmother.

A small gasp, sometimes a burst of laughter, and then they will be quiet again as the show goes on.

It was one hour after your old shop closed when he came by and you found it odd that the people who follow him around are not here with him. He first greeted the children who just murmured a polite ‘Hello’ and ‘Good evening’ but their eyes had always remained guarded before going back to their show.

His attention never always linger longer at anyone else.

It was always at you.

Every little step you take away from him, he tries to close the distance even further and his distorted voice is becoming angrier by the second until his grip around your wrist was too much to handle, your eyes blurry because of the pain.

“I’ll watch over you until you die. Why can’t you understand that?”

Even to this day, you never understood why he was fascinated by you.

The reel of that old and distant memory ended with your cry for help, small, so small followed by your favorite little baseball players shouting in anger and then the tape ended abruptly, a film with no conclusive ending. You have left that tape with everything including the ashes and the scent of fire together with the concrete pillars of your old shop that remained standing.

In the old cinema hidden in the deep recesses of your mind, you have returned as the sole audience of the only film showing and the main actress is no other than-

The defenseless deer hybrid wearing your face with tear stained cheeks.

Why did she (you) scream? To try to warn her (your) dear crow friend to not try to go near the mass of black threads or else it will never fly again but it did not listen.

Why are there tears on her (your) face? Because his hold on her (your) wrist hurts, the gun she (you) hastily tried to hold is now lying on the floor.

Why is she (are you) praying? Because there must be a way out of this hell, for heaven to not punish him anymore if that is what it takes to just to let her (you) go.

“Did you think you are like them now just because you know how to shoot, branches?”

You always play hard to get.

At least, that’s what he thinks. The more you stay away, the more he gets annoyed.

Shy. Skittish. Wary.

You little deer hybrid.

Common.

So relatively common and there are so many of you but he just can’t help being attracted to you even when you always keep your damn eyes on your shoes.

He and his group kept you safe so why can’t you stay put? Why did you have to scream like he is the monster here?

He came prepared this time, making sure you are alone. Just outside your shop are other humans armed to the teeth, capable, and one ridiculously strong predator hybrid such as that brute you just kissed goodbye a few hours ago can only handle so much.

How is it you chose Sylus of all people, a hideous beast, over a human?

“Stop crying.”

His command echoed across the old theater together with your cries of trying to run towards the only exit but no matter how hard you push your legs, you stay on the same spot, the distance between you and the exit unchanging and you wonder if it is a crime to say no that the heavens decided to grant a cruel punishment on you, forever trapped in a loop.

“I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”

A low warning and the human holding you down froze for a moment, the cold barrel of the gun on the back of his head but the hand holding the weapon trembled just slightly and he smirked as he slowly raised his hands, letting you go.

“I wouldn’t even count that as an option.”

“But I do.”

“What is it with you prey hybrids thinking you are all capable of holding a weapon?”

“I am surprised myself,” Louis replied, watching the man slowly turned around to face him, letting you go in the process and in the corner of his eyes, he can see you slowly walking away, reduced to a shambling fawn and cradling the crow with the broken wing, your only source of warmth and even then, wounded little beings can only offer each other comfort and nothing more.

When they arrived a block away from your shop, Louis was bracing himself for the inevitable, to see one of Sylus’ expensive cars parked right in front with the lights of your shop all out, the crack of bones and blood but they were all welcomed with an unexpected surprise.

The car plates.

Bullet proof vests and rifles.

Humans.

It was luck alone that Louis managed to sneak in through the back door of your shop with the rest of his companions making small talk with the friends the human brought along.

“You should be grateful we are the first one to come over,” Louis added, his eyes trained at the human’s hands, “Sylus does not bargain when it is her on the line.”

“Then he will learn.”

“He is already wanted for several crimes. Do you really think he would give a shit if a new line is added to the list?”

“He will if the crime wasn’t his.”

The male deer hybrid’s brows furrowed, confused and his eyes wandered briefly on where you were standing earlier.

The gun he gifted you on the floor.

The feathers of that crow who uses your antlers as a perch.

The cuts around the human’s eyes, bleeding.

“Do you see it now? I hope his pretty little deer knows what happens when abominations like you lays a finger on someone like me,” the human grinned and it only grew further while he watched the look of realization dawn on the deer hybrid’s face.

If he can’t have you, then no one can. Even fucking Sylus.

“Sylus will negotiate, or he would have to say goodbye to the little miss seamstress over here. Do you understand, brat?”, the human continued, stepping closer until the cold barrel of the gun was pressed against his forehead.

Everyone knows Sylus can pay every high ranking official in the government.

He can pay the police to turn a blind eye on this.

He can pay the judge to rule down this accusation.

He can pay the jury almost composed of all humans to vote for your favor.

But he can never pay the overzealous humans who just need one reason to burn down your homes, your businesses, to throw rocks at your windows-

To take every part that makes you a hybrid.

They would come here. Oh they would, and you will be the first one whose head will be in the silver platter.

But all of that will only be possible if the human manages to leave the N109 zone alive.

The paper the human slipped on his breast pocket is heavy, heavier than the gun he kept pointing at where the human was standing even when he already left, the chimes of your doors announcing his departure.

────────────────────

Luke and Kieran always set a portion of their allowance for candy and anything sweet much to Sylus’ disapproval.

Not that they have an addiction, it was mostly because the scent brings a sense of comfort, of a childhood lost then slowly regained, and they recently found out that the treats always taste sweeter when shared.

One of the benefits of having your noses tinkered by humans is that you don’t have to pull out your phone anymore to check where the nearest bakery or candy shop is.

They just have to take a deep breath, shift through the many scents that permeate where they are standing and follow the distinct smell of freshly baked pastries or caramelized sugar.

A yellow brick road and the two wolf cubs weave past the crowd of hybrids and humans who cast them odd looks, mistaking their excitement for manic obsession for something else.

Their favorite sheep hybrid once told them predator hybrids off their rockers wear the same expression when they caught the scent of a terrified prey hybrid’s papercut.

Those hybrids, the worst of the worst, are locked up far, far away from humans and hybrids always say the same thing.

They even taste better when they are scared.

Luke always played it off but it is a thought that lingers in Kieran’s mind, the memory of that stained handkerchief lives almost rent free and comes back during the early mornings while waiting for sleep.

“Let me in.”

It wasn’t a request, a command coming out of the boss’ mouth when the oldest lion hybrid stood between him and the door of your shop.

Kieran knows everyone can smell it.

Every predator hybrid outside your shop practically covered their noses at this point and he and his brother not only covered theirs but their mouths too because-

-They were drooling.

His brother holds onto the railings of your shop and if they weren’t in the company of other people and Sylus, he is sure Luke is going to vomit out his dinner.

“Do I need to repeat myself or do I have to move you out of my way?”

“You, of all people, should know what happens if a predator hybrid like yourself comes near a terrified hybrid such as her.”

“I am well-aware,” Sylus answered, his resolve firm and his eyes trained directly at the lion hybrid, “Now step aside and do not take my words as suggestions.”

There was a pause, the old hybrid blocking his way to you scrutinizing him for any telltale signs of a predator ready to hunt and even with the scent of fear settling in the cold night air, inviting anyone with sharp teeth to this forbidden supper, and he noticed one thing.

Sylus’ pupils were not even dilated like the rest right now.

A dragon hybrid’s senses are far more superior than a lion but here is Sylus, not even slightly bothered and it is only because of his age that he is able to pick up a subtle hint of worry on the dragon hybrid’s eyes.

The older lion hybrid took his word this time and opened the door for him which granted him a nod of approval from Sylus.

“Luke, Kieran.”

“Yes, boss?”

“Open the windows. That human stink is everywhere.”

The twins looked at each and then pulled the neck scarves you have sewn for them over their noses before wearing their masks back, following their boss inside.

The human is lucky he arrived a minute later because Sylus would not hesitate to show how serious he is when it comes to your well-being.

It was an affront, a clear disrespect to his precious deer and even until now, that human stink is trying to blend with the scent of cotton and wildflowers.

No, blend is a kinder term.

It is trying to force itself onto it.

It all concentrated at your front desk and he stood there, his mind reconstructing what took place as he bent down to pick up the gun he assumed you dropped, his eyes lingering on the droplets of blood.

It isn’t yours.

It’s from that insolent human.

“That crow of yours tried to pick out his eyes.”

It was a quiet voice but it resounded through the entire room and Sylus turned around to see that male deer hybrid standing next to the stairs leading to the second floor of your house.

“And did it manage to blind him?”

Sylus initially thought this upstart’s words are empty, flowery phrases to earn the trust of the other prey hybrids but he had proved him wrong.

“If your bird’s wing weren’t broken, the human would be carrying his own eyes on his way out.”

Louis watched Sylus took measured strides to approach him but this time, the subtle animosity between them from before is set aside in favor of you.

The stairs ahead of them looms, the path that used to be warm and inviting when Sylus made his way of your little game of hide and seek earlier is now an entrance to a dark forest even the sunlight refuses to penetrate, your home shielding you from the prying eyes and if it can, it will keep you forever, away from the hunters and their dogs.

“The human had already placed a price for his silence,” Louis began, pulling out the folded paper on his breast pocket and passing it to Sylus, “He is open to negotiate but we both know he wants full compliance.”

“I do not concede against the demands of a trespasser especially right now.”

“That trespasser may not see eye to eye with his fellow humans but they will hear him out if he points his finger at her.”

“What’s your proposal? Give everything he wants free of charge, pat him on the back and let him be on his way?”

“No, I am just passing his words to you,” Louis answered, then glanced at Sylus who briefly scanned the paper he had handed before passing it to one of the twins, “If you want my opinion-”

There was a pause.

“-I would say stories don’t hold much weight if there is no one to tell it.”

It would be an unfair trial if you stand against the court of law mostly run by humans.

How many friends did the human bring along? Too many based on their scent that still lingered. Too many people that would bend the truth until it is unrecognizable, reversing the roles of the actual victim and the criminal.

Even then, they don’t need to do that. People had already passed judgment without hearing you out.

It would be your words against an insolent human.

Your silence would be taken as acceptance for your crimes, your cries would be treated as crocodile tears.

“The abandoned warehouse will meet with an unfortunate accident later tonight,” Sylus answered, slowly making his way up to you and then he turned to look down at Louis, “Those who are inside were not able to call for help in time.”

Only humans negotiate. Monsters like him don’t.

A silent agreement passed between them, a plan, and Louis watched Sylus skipped the fifth step of your stairs.

Sylus would gladly wield the needle on your behalf, to sew together a tapestry of lies so carefully knitted that he will use it to cover you, to shield you from those who would take you from here, from your new home.

────────────────────

“You’ll always be alone.”

It was before the sun broke from the horizon when an older dragon spoke to Sylus before, watching their reflections against the gentle flow of the stream.

Sylus had snapped both of his horns, his tail was short back then, easy to hide behind the thick coat and he practiced his laughs and smiles enough for his lips not to reveal the unusually sharp canines.

All those efforts, just so he can play with those human and prey hybrid children he always sees beyond the treeline where their group is staying-

No, hiding.

He was angry at the older dragon back then.

What’s wrong with wanting friends? He wanted the same thing those humans and lucky hybrids have.

His room always became a theater during the evening, the memories are old films that persist despite the dust that settled, and he is the lone audience.

That memory always stood out before.

You’ll always be alone.

The older dragon wasn’t mocking him.

The older dragon wasn’t even talking to him.

The older dragon was talking to his own reflection.

What did his kind do to merit such treatment? Must there always be a price for everything he cherished with his heart? Why would his nightmares refuse to stay in the realm of the unconscious?

“Sweetie?”

His voice was soft through the wooden door of your room, his hand on the handle. The sweet scent of cotton and wildflowers was almost comforting if not for the undercurrent of terror, fear, and most of all-

-Sadness.

Your answer is only a quiet sob, so soft as if making sure no one would hear even the tears that touch the hardwood floor of your room.

Sylus was hesitant at first but he slowly turned the handle of your door and through the small gap, the trail of Mephisto’s feathers led inside your cabinet.

“I am sorry I am only good at sewing.”

Mephisto’s beeps were distorted, even with its damaged voice box, Sylus knows it is still trying to comfort you, telling you it suffered worse.

You have always found Daisy an odd little crow. Too smart, too observant and its exposed wirings finally revealed why but it is still your friend, badly hurt and your needle and thread won’t be able to fix it.

Your crow friend rested its head on your chest, cawing softly and it is only when your blurry eyes landed on the silhouette standing just outside the cabinet both you and Daisy were inside that you trembled violently.

“Daisy didn’t mean to,” you pleaded, “Daisy’s a good bird-”

No, begged.

You begged through the wooden panels of your cabinet thinking he is the human who welcomed himself in your own home.

Is Sylus angry?

No, there is a better word to describe the wrath that is simmering under the surface of his collected self, close to breaking loose and it was simply because he doesn’t want to terrify you with acts of aggression reserved only for those who are deserving that he held himself together.

“I know, sweetie.”

There was a pause, your sobs coming to a sudden halt and weakly, you called out his name, the sound so fragile but he would always recognize your voice even among the crowd.

It was enough of a reason for him to slowly open the door of your cabinet, crouching down and bracing himself for the inevitable heartbreak, suffering. Suddenly he is the most powerless man alive, the only comfort he can provide is to hold you close and even then, it will never be enough to lighten each drop of your tears, each single tear heavier than the weight of this wide and uncaring world.

Suffering is never a foreign concept in his life, bullets wounds and cuts were painful more so are insults, and when he thought something finally beautiful had taken root in his life, the storm looms on the horizon, threatening to pull it from the soil.

“Skye,” you repeated, your face buried against his chest until you slowly looked up to him.

“Daisy’s-”, you stuttered and you slowly revealed to him his companion that is worse for wear, “Daisy’s broken, Skye. I don’t know how-”

“I’ll put our friend back together, little doe.”

“I tried to warn Daisy, Skye, I tried to do what you taught me-”

“You were the bravest girl, sweetheart. The bravest I have ever known.”

“I am not-”, you shook your head sadly, looking down at his fingers grazing at the exposed wirings of your beloved crow and to your wrist still red, “Brave girls are strong. Brave girls don’t let other men touch them like that-”

You didn’t even land a scratch on that human.

“His hands were-” you continued, your next words incomprehensible as you clutched his shirt, “I didn’t like it but he said I was lying.”

Sylus didn’t say anything but he understood each word as he listened to you pour out all of your grievances, all the heartache and he rubbed one of his horns against one of your antlers, a gesture you found soothing as he waited for your heart to slowly return to its steady rhythm, the scent of fear slowly dissipating.

He wanted to kiss your tears away yet he knew he had lost that right when he came here a minute later.

But he will earn it back.

Each drop of tear he tallied, each apology that isn’t supposed to come from you he counted, and in the darkness of your room only lit by the distant moon, this little corner of paradise mourns with you.

It was when you quieted down that he carefully gathered you in his arms and every step he made while he made his way back to his car parked at the entrance of the shop together with the twins, his resolve only grew stronger.

Sylus eats his enemies alive.

Sylus doesn’t leave any survivors.

Sylus is a man that takes without remorse.

Each rumors echo in his mind and oh, they are baseless claims, false accusations he did not bother to deny. Insignificant but it served his reputation well.

It doesn’t matter, he would normally tell himself.

Until now.

Tonight, he wouldn’t be the man of many rumors.

Tonight, he would make those whispers grow into terrified screams.

Tonight, he would live up to each and every one of them.

The dawn will break tomorrow and Sylus will make sure only ashes would remain by then and it would end with his triumph.

Very soon, sorrows will plague you no more.

────────────────────

“We’re alone because we look hideous.”

Sylus is not the most well-mannered boy when he was young and he will never forget how the frown of the older dragon reflected in the surface of the running stream at his answer.

Pointed horns. Sharp canines. Tail.

All they are missing are hooves for feet to complete the look of a demon he sees in pictures of old fairytale books.

No matter how many stories the older dragon hybrids told over the small campfire of the days where they used to soar the sky without fearing of being shot down, those who lost the feud had already lost their right to say their side of the story.

The only benefit of being given the role of villain by default is you have no one to please but yourself.

He knows every choice he makes will culminate to a bad ending anyways, a sad note.

The last dragon, alone on top of his treasures, will draw his last breath and then finally, maybe he will understand why that older dragon is looking at the reflection of the sky in the stream.

It has been a self-fulfilling prophecy, one that he prayed fervently for it to change during the long nights and in the crossroads of his long journey, he had finally received a response and the answer is-

You leaned against him, holding on to the sleeve of the coat hanging on his shoulders, your gaze at his hands deftly repairing your crow friend in his lap.

The abandoned warehouse a few meters ahead from where the car is parked looms, lit by a few sodium lights with rotten shipping containers piled up on each other. The lightbulb of the small guardhouse flickered accompanied with the radio announcer’s voice, the night shift guard leaving in a haste after Sylus gestured him to leave through the open window of the car earlier.

“Sweetie, you and the twins will have to go somewhere for me.”

“Why can’t you come with us then?”

“I am going to have a talk with that human, miss seamstress, and I want you to be far away from here as soon as possible when I do.”

“That man?”

“Yes, that man,” Sylus answered and he watched Mephisto stand up, stretching its wings and flying out the window for a test flight. It was a quick fix but Sylus knows he had to a more extensive repair after this.

“Can I go with you?”

It was a silent question, and your ears drooped when he didn’t say anything, silently assessing your peculiar request.

“Sweetheart, I am afraid I won’t be able to indulge you on your request this time,” he answered, shaking his head and he removed the coat hanging from his shoulders, draping it over your petite frame.

“Just for tonight, little doe. Count this as me owing you a favor.”

“I don’t want you to owe me anything.”

“Then consider this as my duty as your protector. Something that I must do alone,” he replied, watching you lean against his hand when he traced the shape of your ear drooping. “Your dragon will fly back to you before the sun rises.”

Did those dragons in the paintings you saw with him also made the same promises to the people they love? Is that why they were called liars? That the word did not come from a place of disgust but anguish of a vow that met an abrupt end?

In this crossroad, is there why you have to say your goodbyes?

What can you do that this story will not end with a long, long, sigh? You can barely even use a firearm and if anything, you’re only good at sewing and cleaning.

Sylus smiled gently when he noticed your furrowed eyebrows, smoothing them out with his fingers and your eyes drifted on his sharp canines.

“My protector is too kind,” you finally answered and then you reached out to fix the good luck ribbon around his horn, “If he doesn’t mind, can I ask for another request?”

“Then what is it that my bravest little doe wants?”

His breath hitched when you undo the first two buttons of your blouse, pulling the cloth just enough to expose your skin, his eyes tracing the slope of your neck.

A vial of prey hybrid’s blood can sell for so much in the black market. An option you almost considered when you lost your shop in the fire back at Bloomshore District.

Every predator hybrid has one, at least that’s what the rumors said.

A small indulgence but mostly because it enhances their physical abilities, and even when you believe he doesn’t need one, this is the only solution you know that would greatly benefit him especially when ahead of him are humans you are sure would harm him just like how they culled his kind.

Just like how they hurt you.

“Don’t let a single drop go to waste, alright?”

“Are you sure about what you are offering-”

You silenced him with a gentle press of your fingers against his lips, a gentle smile on your face.

There is no room for doubt, that he is sure, and you are not going to take a no for an answer this time when you pull him closer to you, tilting your head up for him.

Of course, Sylus had always dreamt of sinking his teeth on your neck but certainly not hard enough that his sharp fangs would break the skin and certainly not in this situation.

Yet, you are always one who is clear with your wishes.

“I want to be with you.”

“Then be with me.”

Breathe. He inhaled sharply before holding you closer and the scent of cotton and wildflowers almost clouded his senses, his tongue darting out to lick the supple skin while looking for a suitable spot to nip.

(You wanted to bolt but you won’t allow your deer side to take precedence.)

Bite. His canines sank on your skin and his heart raced in a rapid staccato, a dizzying concerto as he groaned in satisfaction against your trembling body, your hands holding his shirt tightly and a quiet sob escaped your lips.

(He wanted to take a piece of your flesh but he won’t allow his dragon side to overcome him.)

Taste. He had always considered the prey hybrid black market barbaric but every predator hybrid who tried the blood of a prey hybrid says it tastes like vintage wine, the finest among the collection but yours is different, completely unique.

(An exchange, a mutual understanding, and blood of the sacred deer is the offering of this long-awaited union.)

If pure love has a flavor then it would be-

White rabbit milk candy.

You will be the first and last, the only hybrid he would partake in, and even then, the gods must be laughing at the sheer absurdity of a carnivore not pouncing on a prey’s throat but Sylus is going to make sure he will return to your side.

Not all meetings have beautiful endings but your story and his has always been one of a kind.

His tongue swiped over the bite mark and then he pulled away, making sure to button your blouse for you and even with his head slightly bowed down, you can see his pupils dilated and his attempts on making his breath steady.

“You’re a good dragon,” you said quietly and he smiled when you kissed his cheek.

“Good dragons don’t burn down cities for their sweethearts, darling deer,” he answered and he pushed the gun he picked up from your shop earlier to your hands.

Just a safety precaution as you and twins make your way to the safehouse he directed them to bring you to and he let out a quiet sigh when he heard the twins tap through the tinted windows of the car.

“It’s time for me to leave, Miss Deer.”

You reach out to fix the collar of his shirt, adjusting the silver accessory to stay in its proper place.

“Take care, Mister Dragon.”

The ribbon you have tied on his horn swayed against the night breeze after he stepped out of the car, the door closing behind him and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick the remaining blood on the corner of his lips.

With your blood running in his veins, the world will be yours and more.

────────────────────

“Did anyone tell you that you are too overconfident for someone who is the last of his kind?”

Sylus approached the human sitting at the center of the warehouse, not slightly bothered by his insult and his tail swishing lazily while his eyes roamed around his surroundings, mentally counting each human equipped with an assortment of firearms.

Perhaps negotiation is a more recent term to describe a trap.

As always, the two wolf cubs did not disappoint, the numbers they provided were always on the mark.

A small army.

“I do not see the need to bring anyone with me tonight.”

He answered, taking a seat across the human and then crossing his legs. His eyes narrowed slightly when he caught the remnants of your scent that clung to the human’s clothes.

The human studied him before speaking, taking note that the coat that always hangs on Sylus’ shoulders is missing. His hair is slightly disheveled and there is a little detail that made his smirk grow back.

Sylus came here unarmed.

“In a rush, Sylus? Did my gift catch you off-guard?”

“Gift? Is that what you call packages such as those these days?”

“I prefer to call it a reminder. Your precious seamstress wouldn’t be hiding in this dump you call your empire with her father if she didn’t play hard-to-get.”

“Or if you learned to take no at its face value,” Sylus answered, watching the human’s face soured and his eyes flickered at the human tapping his finger on the armchair.

The more he looks at this beast, the more he detests Sylus further.

He was supposed to be in the advantage here. Didn’t Sylus knows he holds your fate in his hands? How is it then that he walked here as if this is just one of his business meetings?

“I came here all the way as you requested,” Sylus continued, his voice betraying nothing, “So tell me your price yourself.”

Greed. This human stink of greed and desire out of everyone inside this room and it only grew when he asked his question.

“Oh, I am very easy to please,” the human grinned, and his finger tapped faster on the armchair, “A monthly deposit of a ten million in local currency, a monthly shipment of firearms and ammunition, and-”

The human let his words hang in the air and Sylus had to resist the urge of rolling his eyes, his tail twitching in annoyance.

This one has a flare of dramatics, doesn't he? It is almost hilarious as if he is watching one of those stage comedies held by those students at one of the universities he is a sponsor to.

“-Her antlers.”

And people call him a monster.

“Is that all of your demands?”

The human nodded, practically drooling just at the thought of those majestic branches that grow from your head that you shed every winter. You and your father kept them hidden at the back of your old shop, a tradition the deer hybrids uphold, and before they started the fire, he made sure to secure yours first.

Oh, they were just so pretty and they still smell like you if he puts his nose close enough even after all these years.

Sylus didn’t answer, smiling coldly and he scanned his surroundings for one last time, deciding he had heard enough.

This sick bastard.

Then, Sylus laughed.

He laughed carelessly, even when the human in front of him and his men were taken back and he continued to laugh until his voice filled the wide expanse of the warehouse

“You trespassed my empire even if I sent you and your people on your way last time and now you are demanding a share of my fortune and my firearms,” Sylus said, his laughter slowly coming into a halt, “And you thought I would willingly give my sweetheart’s antlers she loves so much to you? To you of all people?”

He slowly rose from his seat and all guns were immediately pointed towards him, his tail flicking in anticipation.

“Stay where you are-”

“You are not in the position of giving me orders.”

“You’re outnumbered, you’re unarmed-”

“You should have listened more to those little fairy tales you humans made yourselves.”

There was a roar, enough to shake the earth, and among the small army of mercenaries and loyal bodyguards that the human had brought with him, his face was the palest as their eyes slowly looked up from where Sylus is standing to what is now standing in his place.

Wings so wide, it will blacken the sun- An omen.

Claws so sharp, it can tear through the thickest metals- A catastrophe.

Maw so large, everything that will go inside of it will disappear- An apocalypse.

The pain did not register in the human’s head when the dragon bit almost half of his arm off his body and it was only through the adrenaline that the human managed to roll to the floor in time because the beast was aiming for his head next.

“Fuck!”, the human screamed in pain and pointed at the dark abomination before them, “Shoot him! Aim for his eyes.”

Sylus had long abandoned this form, even back then as a child. The few remaining older dragons who raised him had always looked up, their hands reaching for the heavens once again but never did.

Times have changed. When your kind is culled, you would do anything to survive.

Horns, tail, claws, teeth, wings, scales.

They have no place in this modern world.

These features were traded for firearms and his bare fists and they just became an accessory, a reminder to anyone his kind is still here but barely.

For you, he will wear this atrocious form.

His roars were earthquakes, bullets barely penetrating his scales and the closest wound they could ever inflict on him is when they managed to shoot one of his horns, shattering it.

When did the animosity between the humans and dragon hybrids started?

The embers of this feud still remained, flickering and even when Sylus had tried to search for answers, he never discovered what sin so unforgivable his kind did that everything in this world had conspired for his happiness to be fleeting and every word shouts and screams of horror made him greedy for more, the fire around him growing larger.

Here he is, the product of all desires and hate the dragons had harbored for all years of being hunted and your tears is what broke his self-imposed curse of hiding this form.

No nice and friendly dragon would do this.

He is a wicked dragon, corrupt by all means, but he is yours.

Your blood coursing through his veins is his fuel together with every memory of you and even if the blood from the wound of his shattered horn is making his vision blurry, he refuses to stop even if he is tasting iron from the limbs and heads he had torn off.

“We are losing people here!”

“Throw more grenades at him!”

“Fuck, we are going to die here!”

The distant glow of the roaring flare reached the N109 zone and even the outskirts of every district nearby together with the smell of burnt meat and the shaking of the earth.

Let this be a final warning to anyone who would dare trespass in your home.

Sylus does not bargain when it comes to you.

────────────────────

You were a crybaby back then.

Your antlers were shorter before and the thin, warm glow of the light downstairs was a yellow thread, your guide towards your father who used to stay up all night making clothes.

Unable to sleep, you were his little assistant back then, and he smiled when he saw your ears poking just above the table you could barely reach.

Your first task was to put a thread through the eye of the needle. It was difficult and you pouted when you kept failing several times.

“Now, twig, if you cry too much, you won’t be able to see the eye of the needle now.”

It was only after several tries after blinking out the tears of frustration that you were able to finally manage to get it right and you handed the needle to him that you realize that if there is a thread connecting you and your father, it would be a warm color and ever since then, you always try to imagine what color is the thread that connects you to another person.

Yellow. The color connecting between you and your father, the same color as the tulips he always brings to you for your birthday.

Pink. That is the color you see for Luke and Kieran. The same color as the strawberry macarons they always bring to you and the three of you share while they let you examine the latest plushies they made.

Green. You even put a color for Daisy’s and while it brought you various colorful gems and flowers, you will never forget the time it brought you a four-leaf clover.

Then, finally-

You gazed through the tinted windows of the car, watching Skye talk with the twins and in a few moments, the distance between you and him will grow as he makes his way inside the warehouse.

Red. The same color as his eyes, the first bouquet of roses Mr. Sylus sent over, and the red wildflowers painted in the fields of your music box.

The red thread you are afraid will be snipped off because you aren’t good enough to fight.

Why did you want to go with Skye when the sheer presence of that human alone is enough for you to cower in a corner?

Because you want another chance and this time, you will not be the deer caught in the headlights.

No, you have to come close.

The closest you can to that human.

And when you do, you will cut the black thread that ties you to him.

Your footsteps barely make a sound at the smooth pavement, your hand sweeping at the cold metal of the shipping containers while you make your way closer to the warehouse. Every now and then, an occasional light will flicker in this labyrinth of towering metal.

From a distance, you can hear the twins’ calling out your name, their tone becoming more worried and you shiver against the cold breeze, pulling the coat hanging on your shoulders tight against you.

It was almost similar to your dragon’s warm embrace.

Even when he isn’t here, the scent that clung on his coat seemed to say otherwise and a sense of security almost washed over you until you were reminded of your farewells earlier.

If you were born as a predator hybrid, would you be fighting alongside him right now?

If you were born a fighter, would your old shop still be standing today?

If you pulled the trigger just on time, would your tears stop spilling?

Your knees buckled down and you leaned against the shipping container, the gun in your hand is cold and heavy yet you wrap your fingers around the handle firmly, the muzzle touching your forehead.

Holding the gun like this is like praying.

Would a part of you that you let Skye take be enough? You prayed it would be but prayers will always be just dandelion seeds carried by the wind, wisps of fragile dreams.

A familiar weight pushed on your shoulder and you smiled, putting down the gun and glancing at your crow friend. The shadows are enough to cover the exposed metal and wiring on its wing and it gives you a soft beep.

We should leave.

It tried to pull the small braid on the side of your face gently and when it didn’t work, it went for your skirt this time, any parts of your clothes, gesturing you to go back from where you came but you only shook your head.

“I don’t want to run anymore, Daisy.”

Not running.

Mephisto’s caws are lost to you, trying to reason with you but your ears unable to understand its words and it is growing frustrated at every tug but you refuse to move, your eyes trained at the boarded up windows of the warehouse further up ahead. It is awfully quiet, the only sound you heard was the warehouse door closing a few minutes ago.

Seeing that it is taking so much to convince you, Mephisto gives you one last look before flying to where the twins are, a few shipping containers behind, both jumping from one container to another, looking for you from above.

“I can’t smell her.”

Luke complained and Kieran nodded, their eyes taking in the dark surroundings searching for your familiar form. One heart beating too fast was already nerve wracking but being able to sense his twin’s as well? Kieran doesn’t know how they are both alive with how much they are worried right now.

Hell froze over when they opened the car only to find you were not there after watching the boss go to the warehouse and they had suspicion you most likely ran off to follow the boss but the question is-

Why?

Is it innate for every prey hybrid to flee when they are backed against the corner? To blindly run until you believe you are no longer in danger?

“What, bird?”, Kieran asked, watching Mephisto perched on his shoulder and it let out a beep.

It found you.

There you are, a few meters ahead of them, the boss’ coat hanging on your shoulders and they finally understood why they can’t pick up your scent.

The boss’ scent interlaced with yours, a perfect harmony and a cover. Any predator hybrid who would want to look for you will be thrown off your tracks.

Even if the boss is not by your side, he took all the measures he could to protect you.

They both landed in front of you, their tails wagging slightly when you looked up to smile at them.

“Miss, you shouldn’t be running away like that.”

“Yeah, not a good time for pranking, you know?”

“I am sorry,” you answered, and your gaze moved to one of the doors of the warehouse. The only entrance and exit because the rest was also boarded up. “I just want to-”

What do you want to do?

See your dragon step out of the warehouse without any scratch?

Sever the thread connecting you and the human who had given himself the title of hero of this story?

End this nightmare?

“Hey, it’s okay, miss,” Kieran started, sensing you are about to cry again, reaching out to embrace you and his brother did the same, their tails wagging, “Didn’t we tell you? You already have us and the boss looking after you.”

There was a caw.

“And the bird too,” Luke added, looking up to see Mephisto perch on your antlers, “It says it cares for you so much.”

Even if you lost everything in the fire of long ago, life still continued its symphony and something beautiful has taken root in the ashes of despair, something you want to see grow until it covers the landscape.

“Can’t we wait for him?”

“The boss? No, we really need to leave, miss.”

“It’s cold, you know, he doesn’t want you to get sick especially after you have been through,” Luke added to Kieran’s statement but you shook your head and the two looked at each other.

The boss had specifically asked them to bring you far from here and that they will even when you are oddly adamant on staying on this place they are sure the boss would raze to the ground.

Kieran was about to carry you when a roar cut through the silent night, enough for the shipping containers to shake.

“What was that?”, you asked, alarmed.

“Shit, we need to move her away here,” Luke muttered, shielding you together with his brother as the surroundings continue to shake and you can hear gunfire and roars from inside the warehouse.

Roars so furious they broke all the windows of the warehouse.

Roars so loud they herald the inferno that followed after.

Roars so violent they overpowered the screams inside.

“Don’t look.”

Luke covered your eyes with his hand and Kieran covered your ears but even their attempts to shield and comfort you is not enough, your eyes widening through the gap and your ears twitching against their hold.

The roaring flare intensifies, it eats anything on its path of rampage and it will only stop once dawn arrives, once black snow falls.

“He’s still in there-”

“Boss’ fine,” Kieran replied quietly, his gaze at the flames that continue to pick up. “But the humans? Not really.”

Beneath the frenzied roars was a thin layer of anguish and despair. Whoever is making them, they are in pain.

“The boss,” Luke added slowly, “He’s still just like you and me.”

He has been called a monster many times but his true heartbreak would be if the word comes from your mouth.

“I want to wait a little longer,” you murmured softly and they slowly let go of you, listening, “He must be tired. He might take a while if he has to fly back to us.”

Underneath their masks, a sigh of relief and a smile.

You really have spent too much time with them that the fearsome faces of predator hybrids don’t bother you so much.

Kieran was about to answer when his ears perked up, his nose picking up a distinct scent over the smell of burnt meat and ash.

That human stink.

It is the same human who welcomed himself inside your home.

Their gazes immediately move to the human who staggered outside the warehouse, the flames trying to reach him but barely.

“He won’t be alive for much longer,” Kieran commented, watching the trail of blood behind the human who is trying to stop his wound.

“He left his people inside? That’s quite pathetic, don’t you think?”, Luke added and he had to stifle a chuckle when he noticed Mephisto puffing up while perched on your antlers, as if wanting to square up with the human again.

The twins kept hurling insults upon insults, observing the human in amusement who is trying to shout for help in an empty field, trying to open the nearby cars he and his men most likely brought to get here.

There is no hope for him.

You should stay put.

Yet, you are afraid that if you move your eyes away from him, he will arrive at your doorstep tomorrow morning, alive and well.

Ambush is a certain dance.

Rule number one.

Conceal.

Luke and Kieran thrived on the art of surprising their opponents but that only works if you blend yourself against the shadows.

“I want to make sure he doesn’t visit me again.”

They were taken aback when you told them your request but your conviction said otherwise and here begins your first lesson and likely the last.

You weave through the winding shipping containers, your eyes trained at that mess of black thread walking aimlessly, yelling at anyone to come to his aid. Your steps were almost quiet, the sounds you made muffled by the dark and heavy coat hanging on your shoulders.

Rule number two.

Know your enemy.

A predator can be anyone, a loose term for people who had an intent to kill but what do you call yourself now if you are now the hunter and the man who had pursued you through the winding path of your forest is now the hunted?

His dominant hand is missing, his other hand trembling as he tries to hold the gun while he makes his way to the telephone nearby, lit by a lone fluorescent light.

Rule number three.

Exploit your advantage.

“Oh, need a hand?”, Kieran asked and the human recoiled in fear, dropping the phone and immediately pulling out the gun he hastily tucked on his back.

“Y-you-”,

“Me?”, Luke and Kieran both answered and the human trembled, stepping back to put more distance between the twins who were leaning lazily at both sides of the telephone booth, the dial tone missing, tilting their heads in amusement.

He thought he had planned everything out, that Sylus would cower knowing the weight of a human’s words is heavier than the rest of the hybrids combined but they were right, that dragon hybrid is not afraid to commit atrocities.

A faint rustle and he almost blacked out when he saw a silhouette standing just outside the light of the lamp post.

That coat.

Two horns protruding from the head.

And that damn fucking bird-

He was aiming for the head but his hold was lousy and the bullet hit the other horn, shattering it immediately and instead of a deep groan of pain, he heard something else.

A soft whimper.

“What the hell-”, the human muttered and you stepped inside the light, blood pouring to the side of your face and this time, you aren’t looking down on your shoes.

Your eyes are gazing back at him.

“You really do think you are like the rest of them, huh?!”, he shouted, and he was about to take another shot when the crow flew too fast, knocking the gun out of his hand.

“I am like the rest of them,” you answered quietly and you raised the gun, aiming at him.

Breathe for me.

Your dragon’s words were louder than ever, and the weight of his coat almost close to having his presence nearby and you blinked your tears away, never removing your eyes at the mess of black threads that threatened to engulf you.

May this bullet forgive him for what your heart cannot.

God, please.

A merciless shooting star, speeding fast, and for once, the heaven had finally turned an eye and ear to your prayers, the surface of the tangled black threads erupted like the waves of a dark and deep lake.

The black thread connecting you and him had been finally severed.

────────────────────

Opening a door for Sylus meant bracing himself for impact.

Opening a door meant surprises, most of them bad ones and he was fortunate to be gifted a set of senses that can detect danger ahead.

Not all business meetings are actual talks, most are disguised as attempts to take his life and the merchandise he had brought alongside with him.

It is an irrational fear but in his line of work, it doesn’t hurt to be too vigilant.

Sylus only ceased his rampage when the fire had slowly died down, the sun slowly breaking out from the horizon and he knew he had to return soon.

Return to you.

Hearing your gentle voice through the other side of the door made him too eager to turn the handle and listen to your warm greetings.

“Welcome back, Skye.”

“Good afternoon, Skye. Have you eaten yet?”

“Hello, Skye. Slow day?”

He had always looked forward to hearing those phrases with his real name and there is a certain sentence he has yet to hear but has been praying for that day to come soon.

In this hideous form where everyone would certainly flee when they see him open the door, he was met with an unexpected surprise.

Through the gap of the warehouse doors barely held together by its hinges was no other than-

You.

Disagreement is not a foreign thing, even if you are twins who know each other’s thoughts and emotions.

They had debated over leaving after you took out the trash, after they left the body under the flickering light of the lamp post, and helping clean up your wound, their worries overriding their instincts.

Kieran had insisted to still follow the boss’ orders but Luke was the stubborn one this time, pointing out to might as well wait considering you aren’t budging ever since you put yourself near the warehouse doors, waiting patiently.

The screams had died down then, the gunshots gone, and all was left was the soft crackle of fire slowly dying down.

Here they are, standing near you as you sit on the ground with your beloved crow perched on your remaining antler, the good luck ribbon swaying against the wind.

“Didn’t I tell you I will fly back to you before the sun rises?”

A deep voice, familiar, coming out from inside the dark warehouse, black snow falling around you and your ears drooped.

“Then we still have time,” you smiled and with outstretched hands you continued, “Fly to me then.”

He should be angry.

He should be angry that you chose to be stubborn at this time.

He should be angry that the twins listened to you.

Yet, he can’t find the heart to do so, not right now, when the ash is slowly settling and all he wants is to indeed, return to your side.

He was about to step out and it will just take him five more strides to get to you but he hesitated when he get a glimpse of what he looked like right now through the metallic door.

He really does look hideous.

Will you still look at him the same if he wears this shape?

“The sun is rising,” you gently said, coaxing him.

His sweetheart, so naive.

“Close your eyes for me,” he answered and you did as you were told.

Earnest.

Sweet.

Precious.

He rested his snout on your hands and he watched your reaction, your fingers mapping out the scales, occasionally grazing the exposed teeth.

“When did you become so rough, Mister Dragon?”

“All so I can defend myself, Miss Deer.”

You hummed, pulling him close with your face leaning against his snout.

“When did you become so warm, Mister Dragon?”

“All so I can hold you closer, Miss Deer.”

He laughed softly, pushing his forehead against yours, and oddly enough, he found himself purring in delight that you have always managed to surprise him.

“When did you become so large, Mister Dragon?”

“All so I can protect you, Miss Deer.”

You never opened your eyes once, and slowly the scales you were touching were replaced by warm skin, his forehead against yours and he leaned down to rub his remaining horn against your sole antler.

Both of you, a mirror image of each other but not quite.

“Of all the creatures I have held, you are the warmest.”

“And you are the kindest.”

This time, he leaned down and kissed both of your eyelids and he wanted to keep his eyes at you longer, to see the morning light on your face but his eyes are becoming heavier.

How long was it since he slept on a hard surface? To sleep unguarded?

Exhaustion never crept in so fast before but here he is, already making himself comfortable on your lap and you didn’t stop him, your hand trying to look for his hair and he gently held your wrist to guide you.

“You know, boss, you have a bed back at the base.”

“Never thought I would see you sleeping in a place like this.”

You chuckled softly and Sylus did too, barely audible, a small huff, as he leaned further against your touch and with sleep finally creeping in, the night slowly becoming day, the radio left on in the guardhouse played from a distance and a brief smile cross his face, recognizing the last lines of the song. It was, afterall, the famous aria played in the opera where he first laid eyes on you for the first time.

Who would have thought using that form would tire him out?

Maybe you did the right call staying within the edges of this already burnt warehouse because he might fall asleep on his way back and he knows you wouldn’t be too happy if he come in a little later.

You and your adorable pout and drooping deer ears.

He would really hate to disappoint you.

“Let sleeping dragons lie.”

It was a quiet answer, your fingers on your lips and the twins laughed with his mechanical crow letting out a small beep. His eyes are closing, watching the morning rays overwhelm the brilliant stars and the skies have never felt nearer with him on lying on your lap.

Night is coming to an end, the fateful day that you will finally say his real name, he hopes, has arrived and one by one, each of your voice faded in the background until the last thing he heard was the last line of the song, and he mumbled along with it, a faint smile on his lips.

"All'alba, vincerò!

Vincerò! Vincerò!"

Victory tastes like white rabbit milk candy.

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Author's Note: I think I used a lot of symbolism and references in this part but my favorite is the white rabbit milk candy and (the last lines from the opera Turandot). I got that after listening to Mili's Iron Lotus (Yes, I had second hand suffering watching people's playthrough getting their asses burn by Xiao from Library of Ruina). I think I would have finished writing this earlier but I live in a place where public spaces like libraries is a foreign concept and walking around is like Subway Surfers here.

I might make a playlist of all songs I made references to in the future after I am done with this. This chapter mentally exhausted me tbh I think I need to rewatch Delicious in Dungeon for the nth time again this weekend.

Four more chapters (Already including the epilogue)! See you next update!

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #hybrid au #lads hybrid au #lads #lads sylus

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