#and can only keep job-searching so long ...

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"So, what all are we looking for here, lass? What do you want to take home the most right now?"

In a way, Wilhelm was reminded of his own packing back in Ireland, his preparation for his travels to the States: He remembered walking around his room, his house, trying to think of what he wished to take with him the most. He tried to focus on the important things: Clothes, of course, a photo album, an Irish flag, his mother's tea set, but there were more personal, sentimental items he thought about taking-childhood toys, knickknacks and bric-a-brac, little things he still had an emotional investment in...he didn't have enough room in his suitcase to take it all with him, he knew, but it wasn't for a lack of trying.

"Are these any heirlooms in the house, anything very valuable you want to move out?" June asked, trying to see the situation a touch practically: Given how much time Emily had spent at their home, her own home must've looked quite dark and uninhabited, and so a part of her feared some hooligans might want to break in and try to steal the silverware, so valuables were at the top of the list.

At the mention of valuables, Randall immediately thought of the veil: If there was anything that fit under that descriptor, his masterpiece would be it, and that would be the first thing he'd make sure to grab for Emily.

[help-me-find-a-name-please-lol]

help I need career advice.

on the one hand I can keep trying to get a job in IT in my ongoing struggle to break into a new industry. these jobs, if I ever land one, will no doubt be entry-level pay and a lot of grunt work, plus potentially arduous car travel all over the region, in a field of IT I don't even really care about necessarily. on the plus side, I get something relevant on my resume, some references/referees in the field, and get to work and network with some people who can maybe help me get to where I want to be. one of the jobs (the one with travel) is only 2 days a week, so the money will suck, but I'll have time to work on my own projects.

VS.

a job currently going at my local council to be the coordinator of the vet clinic and the community programs aimed at improving the responsible animal care and management in the city. as an experienced veterinarian I have immediate skills I can apply to this, plus a thousand and one ideas to revolutionise pet care education. it pays significantly more than I ever got paid as a vet, and more than the IT jobs I feel I have a reasonable chance of getting. BUT I am terrified that it will mean I'll be responsible for managing the budget of the council's vet clinic and animal shelter, and deciding the number of animals that get saved vs put down. (my city gets no support from RSPCA, there's only the council pound and 2 volunteer rescue organisations). I'm worried that the vet clinic management side will completely consume all of my time and leave me no room to implement my desired drastic changes to pet care education. I left the veterinary industry to salvage my mental health and don't want to get badly caught up again. I'm also worried all of my new IT skills will languish and I'll never get closer to launching a career in this industry. but otoh, a lot of the stuff I want to do with IT involves trying to bring about change to improve the lives of pets ...

wwyd???

[dreamswillbeyourwintermeat]

I'm genuinely about to cry because I'm so stressed about my stupid job even though I know in the long run it doesn't really matter and it's an arbitrary deadline and no reflection on me if we don't make it and I'm doubly upset because I haven't been here (crying about work) in so long and how did I get dragged back here even though I fucking know better

[leidensygdom]

i love finding poetry in the mundane, and yesterday i stumbled upon something that just hits that spot

So, my partner has an old phone- It served them for many years now, but it has one issue: Charging it is hard. Their current charger is hanging on by a thread (literally), and can barely do its job. The phone and the charger came together: They've never used another charger for said phone.

Now, they've tried to replace the charging cord several times. But it doesn't matter how much they've searched what damned specific charger the phone uses, none of them work. They finally decided to bring it to a phone shop and ask what should they use.

The guy at the shop looked at the phone for a bit, and explained: "The port itself is broken. The charger you have works with this phone because they've mutually broken each other into the same shape, in a way that no other charger is shaped. The port itself has corroded in a way that only accepts the charger that shaped it like that in the first place."

And while this is of course a frustrating situation for my partner, I feel like there's a metaphor here. I could write a goddamn story about this. These two half-broken old things have been together for so long they've destroyed each other in a way that keeps them from working with anything else. They've hurt each other in a way that barely keeps them functioning together, and have been rendered useless with literally anything else.

This too is toxic yuri to me-

[littleapplle]

bad dog!

mating season's part two. not necessary but read it for more context. nsfw. 4.1k w.

cw.: hybrid!caleb, fem!reader, masturbation (m), dry humping, caleb is pathetic and anxious asf, a lot of spit, handjob, cunnilingus (sigh...), p in v, big d caleb, knotting, breeding kink, pregnancy kink (sorryy..), caleb is PATHETIC (again), biting and lwk marking kink, doggy style, mating press, squirting.

note: ah!! its finally out! to everyone who liked and asked for a part two of mating season, im sorry! i took so long to start and finish this. i hope i can keep up with the expectations and that this is just as enjoyable as part one.

“bad dog!”

Is what caleb's got most used to hearing in the past few days.

“caleb, do you know where my white bra is- hey, what are you hiding in there? bad dog!”

“caleb! stop going through the dirty laundry basket! bad dog!”

“caleb, why are there holes in my black panties? oh my god did you chew them again?- ugh! bad dog!”

the first few times, he'd whine in guilt and shame, give you his best puppy eyes and maybe, just maybe, get away with it. but now? you're afraid he's getting bolder, that your punishments – denying him his weekly spoon of peanut butter and his blueberry bites – aren't being enough to keep him on his tracks. 

and what's the solution for a puppy with bad manners? a trainer, of course! you've searched everywhere online for a hybrid trainer close to your apartment and nothing was worth wasting time on. most of them were men, which you knew wouldn't end well.

puppy!caleb is friendly, a sweetheart around you. he lies on his back and whines for belly rubs and when you scratch a particular spot on his side, his leg twitches a little. your sweet pup is lovely but you know him well enough to know it's better to avoid interactions with other men.

it's not personal! he isn't scared of them or anything. he just doesn't like them around you:( so why would you bring a stranger to your shared apartment to not only try and order him around but also infect the air, which usually smells like you, with their yucky scent? that's a nono!! caleb is a good pup but his teeth are still huge and sharp!!!

with no other options left, you return to scolding caleb almost daily for his misbehavior.  sure, you’re letting him get away with it sometimes and maybe you're too soft on him but you're trying!

his behavior worsens with time. it's been a little more than a  week since the incident you'd rather not mention. caleb barks when you get home, showing his teeth to the world once his nose sniffs a different scent in your clothes. caleb growls and both of you play tug of war with your clothes every morning. caleb hides stuff around the apartment and you're running out of undies.

he's clingy. you love him but he's constantly clinging to you, sniffing every inch of your skin when he thinks you're not looking. When you sit down on the couch to work, laptop resting on top of your thighs, he lies down on the floor, waiting for you to invite him to sit beside you and take a nap while you write reports, and when you don't? his sharp teeth nip at the ticklish skin of your foot. bad dog!

to his dismay, you still have a job and need to go out by the morning and spend the whole day out. the baby teethers you bought for him aren’t helping to keep his teeth and mind busy anymore and caleb is starting to destroy the shit out of your apartment. you’ve found bite marks everywhere this past week. your mascara? bitten. the corner of your bedside table? destroyed. the cute and pink silicone spatula in your kitchen? disintegrated.

ok, sure, it’s kind of your fault for not educating him properly but how could you? poor boy gets anxious when you’re not around and his gums are itchy! he’s innocent! 

so, to help with said problem, you bought him a friend! a fluffy, cute, white bunny plushie with the cutest light pink heart for a nose. but that alone was too tedious for your bored pup! to prevent him from absolutely destroying the plushie, you spray some of your perfume in its fluffy body. the cologne he whines and buries his face in your neck when you wear, the one that made you put a lock on the cabinet under your bathroom sink because he kept spraying it in the air when you weren’t home.

great idea! he loves it. a bit too much maybe, but it’s a win. 

“i’m leaving, caleb! leftovers are in the fridge. yes, i love you, yes, i have to go, no i can’t call in sick.”

you announce loudly from the front door before shutting it close, a tactic you quickly learned. you sneak to the front door quietly, tell him that you’re out and boom. door locked. sometimes you can hear him whine and paw at the knob and it breaks your heart but your boss will chop your head off if you arrive late one more time this month. you try to make your goodbye as painless as possible for him, like removing a bandaid with a single quick pull so he doesn’t have the time to process the sting.

the clock hits 11:00, it’s been an hour since you left. caleb is miserably sprawled on the couch, he tries to focus his eyes on the show playing on the tv but his purple orbs stare at the clock more times than he can count.

it’s 18:00 by the time he gets frustrated and decides he’ll take a nap in your bed. everything on the tv is too boring if you’re not there to watch it with him, he doesn’t want to eat if you’re not there to treat him with dessert- oh, he misses you dearly.

opening the door of your room, he sighs like a wife that has been waiting six months for her husband, who left to save their country, to answer her last letter, whining dramatically at the hopeful thought you’d magically come home earlier. the mattress sinks down with his weight, curling under your weighted blanket like a puppy.

and that’s when he sees it.

his new little friend, with a light orange bow tied around its neck, sitting beside his head on the pillows. you’ve definitely sprayed your perfume on it this morning, the scent is still too fresh, he notes. 

he yanks it closer quickly, big hand and fingers gripping the fabric with force as he buries it in his face. comfort immediately runs through his veins, filling his bored brain with a sense of calmness. his fluffy ears twitch, glueing to the sides of his head pitifully and there’s a barely visible tail wagging slowly under the thick blanket.

caleb takes a whiff, a second one, a third one, and his eyes start to water. this is inhumane! he cherishes your gift dearly but now the scent just makes him miss you even more. rubbing his face closer to the plushie’s tummy, his canine teeth sink on the fabric as gently as he can, trying not to damage the toy you gifted him with so much love.

his little puppy heart shatters. if you were by his side right now, you’d pet his ears, pinch his cheek just enough to make his canines visible and giggle at him and it’d make him feel better! 

his hips buckle against the mattress as he squirms around the bed sadly and a shiver runs up his spine, making the fur on his tail stand up. caleb has been so pent up since he pressed you to the floor and had his way around you, his cock is always sensitive, the scratches you give behind his ear make his lower stomach tighten with arousal and his pupils are always blown.

gross stuff is a nono in your bed but his hands paw at his hardening cock through his boxers anyway. It’s not in his hand he wants to come and the feeling of not having what he wants makes his chest heavy with frustration. With a hiss, his hand leaves his cock, like any touch burns and hurts him more than it helps. 

‘caleb- no. i need you to calm down before i give you the spoon. breathe.’ is what you tell him after lunch, when he gets to have some peanut butter. the situation is different, he feels like a bomb, ticking closer and closer to exploding but he obeys your voice in his head anyway, breathing nervously against the now covered in saliva bunny.

a long breath makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull as his hypersensitive nose catches a glimpse of the intoxicating sweet smell of your cologne. 

and what happens next is not processed by his pathetic brain. the poor plushie is dragged down the blanket and pressed right to his crotch, its fur sticky with precum that seeped through his boxers. this is what you wanted when you gifted him this thing, huh? a ragdoll for him to fuck when you’re away? well it’s not enough!

his hips rut against the bead filled body with messy thrusts and more whines escape his lips. He can’t come. Not in this, not in his hand, his knot will take too long to go down and he’ll be sensitive, too sensitive. it has to be you. he wants you.

caleb is not there to see the clock tick 18:40, his ears don't help him this time, his nose is buried in your pillow too deeply to catch your slightly sweaty scent in the air and tell that you’re home. 

from the front door, you arch a brow as you kick your shoes off and place them on the shoe hack. the apartment is quiet, too quiet. caleb is like a child, you’ve noticed, if everything is too silent, something is wrong. 

“caleb? where are you, boy? have you eaten anything yet?” you call out, no one answers.

the door of your bedroom is ajar. is he sleeping? cute. you walk carefully to its direction, tiptoeing in hope to not wake him up. and once you peek inside, your smile falters.

“caleb! gross!”

the shriek makes him snap out of his drunk, dumbed down mind and his eyes almost pop out of his skull. his ears, once hidden on both sides of his head, stand on top of it, tense. “you-” he cries and sits up.

you don’t give time to finish his sentence, a frown blooming in your face as you cross your arms close to your chest by the door. 

“seriously caleb?! in my bed? i just changed the sheets this morning, for fuck’s sake-” and listen, he wants to apologize, feel guilty and pout but he can’t. he can hear your breath hitching, he loves when you come home with sweat clinging to your skin, fuck, you smell so good. he wants a taste. this time, he’ll get it.

this time, he begs. he crawls to the edge of your bed, tail wagging behind him mindlessly and the words that leave his mouth are pathetic.

“please- r’lly need your help! feels so hot- please i- i really need you! been waiting for so long, ah, please- i’m a good boy, kept my teeth to myself, promise. oh fuck.” your ears can barely catch up to everything he’s saying, his words are dragged, desperate, needy.

you really want to keep up with the ‘i’m mad at you’ act but you break. his whines go right to your core, arousal pooling on your underwear disgustingly fast. pinching your nose, you sigh, walking to his direction and sitting on the bed.

with the space between you two getting smaller, his tail wags faster, his pupils blown wide, shaky. your hand makes contact with his sweaty cheek and he is quick to lean in, shutting his eyes close and basking into your touch. “what’s wrong, pupp-” — “hot.” you can hear the distress in his voice. “it’s okay, i’m here now, aren’t i?” at the reassurance, you receive a lick in your hand as acknowledgement.

scooting closer, you cradle his face with both hands. there’s a bit of sweat clinging to his bangs , making them stick to his forehead, a bit of saliva is smeared on his lips and his brows are furrowed. “oh, my poor pup.” you coo in pity before pressing a kiss to his wet lips. he whines, kissing— well, licking your lips stupid—, you groan at the mess but doesn’t fight against it, you’ve been mean enough already.

while his clammy hands grip your shirt for a sense of grounding, yours scratch his chest in affection, tracing down to the happy trail that trailed up to his bellybutton. you’d love to take your time with him, let your mind settle, but knowing caleb, he’ll grow frustrated and bark weakly as a way to protest. so, in order to keep him quiet, your wandering hand pulls down his wet underwear, his cock standing proud against his stomach.

your eyes almost pop out their sockets once you peek down. he is big, much bigger than whatever the average is. his tip is an angry shade of red, beads of precum leaking down the shaft. the cool air makes it twitch. 

slowly, awkwardly, your hand wraps itself around it, working up and down. that makes him snap, breaking the kiss and throwing his head back with a loud whine. “‘s that good, pup?” he doesn’t answer, how could he? not when your thumb presses on his tip in a way it makes his thighs shake and his ears twitch with pleasure and he’s trying so hard not to come. 

your other hand leaves his face, going south to cup his balls gently. his jaw tightens. gross. you think with a smile but leans in anyway, kissing his adam’s apple as it bobs with his nervous gulps.

the stimulation is too much for him, making his brain go fuzzy. your lips now working on his shoulder blade, your hand gripping his length tightly, your other hand massaging his balls- “stop! argh- please, ‘m gonna cum! can’t cum. needa be inside you, please.” caleb squeals, both hands holding down your arms with force as his hips buckle in your hands.

so you do, you let go, just staring at him with big eyes as his chest goes up and down quickly and his face flushes with heat. once he settles from his high, caleb’s hands grip the hem of your shirt, taking it off quickly and messing your hair. “ow! caleb-” — “no.”

caleb has always been stronger than you, you lose against him when roughhousing, you give up on trying to save your clothes from his teeth because once something is in his grasp, you’re not getting it back. in a second, you’re under him, face shoved into one of your pillows while your ass, covered in the pretty, black skirt you left to work with is up in the air.

he doesn’t take the skirt off, too irritated to care about something so trivial. he takes a second to sniff your crotch, covered by a cute pair of wet lilac panties, before yanking the fabric down to your bent knees. you squeal against your pillow at the roughness and the quick, hot sniffs on your lips.

last week caleb discovered he loves the way you taste, he’d love to eat you out the whole night, starting now, but he just can’t take this long right now. his warm tongue laps at your arousal, lips wrapping themselves in your folds and sucking gently.

“c-caleb! fuck! good- good boy, keep going, baby.” muffled whines escape your lips and at the praise, caleb’s tail wags faster, tongue working around your clit, teasing it. he sees the way your knees fight to keep your ass up and not buckle weakly, that’s his sign to keep going. 

his free hands grip your ass, spreading it for more easy access. he trails kisses from your clit and up to your slit, continuing going up till he gets to your asshole, placing an open mouthed kiss to the hole. it twitches, your body shivering at the unexpected contact. you hit the pillow you’re currently biting in protest. “gross, caleb!”

it doesn’t take long for your moans to grow louder and your thighs, dripping with sweat, shake violently as he sucks on your clit harshly. “fu-ck! yes! good boy, caleb- mghhh- jus’ like, ah, that!” you moan, creaming on his mouth tiredly.

you curse his stamina, because once you think you’ll finally be able to catch your breath and rest, caleb’s already rutting against your wet folds and slapping his dick on your sensitive bundle of nerves. energetic mutt, you curse. he is not giving you a break.

“caleb.” you warn, trying to make your voice as steady as possible. “gimme a break and then we can conti- aaH! oh my god- fucking mutt!” you scream, cursing him for the pain between your legs as he buries himself inside you in a single thrust. his tip kissing your cervix and walls tightening around his length painfully. 

“s-sorry! o-oh fuck. fuck, y’er so tight- mgh-” 

and ohhhh fuck, he waited so long for this. you look so pretty from this angle, hair tangled and messy, face buried in a pillow, back and thighs sweaty while your knees can barely hold up your weight. he gulps down, trying not to piston his hips inside you just yet. 

he doesn’t give you much time to get comfortable before snapping his hips against your ass, the sound of skin against skin disgustingly lewd. his torso bends down to bury his face in your nape, breathing deeply in your hair once he does. “mine. oh- ahh- yes, mineminemine!” caleb whimpers, his eyes rolling back as you clench down around him, making his thrusts messier. 

as a response to pleasure, his fluffy ears twitch and drop to the back of his head once again. his tail doesn’t stop wagging ever, swishing behind him happily. the warmth in his stomach grows at the sound of your moans and screams, your curses only making him hornier.

you’re a meanie, you don’t let him chew on your shirts and get a whiff of your bras, you nag at him and hide the small container with blueberries that’s usually in the fridge when he does something wrong. and usually, he’d whine, eyes getting watery at the thought of you being mad at him, but now? he doesn’t even care! you look so pretty, you feel so good. his ears barely get a glimpse of you cursing all his next generations.

a shiver runs down your spine once he licks the back of your neck, sniffing it contently as his cock abuses your insides. you hate him, you fucking hate this mutt, he is disgusting and he does not obey and his cock drags along your walls so fucking nicely. his mushroom tip pokes your cervix roughly, making you stupidly drool in your sheets while your things dig on the bedding. 

“y’smell so good- y’er so tight- feel so- ngh- good! mine, right? don’t like other men around you! noooongh”  – “w-wait! caleb! aah!” something in his mind upsetted him because the way he thrusts into your cunt is inhumane, caleb’s bigger frame presses you down on the mattress, the hair of his happy trail tickling your lower back as his skin slaps on yours. 

you’re a mess, pussy drooling pathetically and stretched to her limit around him, juices spilling down your thighs and the mattress everytime he fucks his cock inside you. and when you’re sure you’re getting used to him, of fucking course caleb has to start talking again. “need to mark you, everyone need’ta know y’er mine, just mine. that’s my cock you’re clenching around. needa bite you, yeah.” 

and he keeps up with his words, his loving, ticklish licks to the back of your neck turning into a sharp pain. you scream, squirming under him and one of your hands tries to slap whatever bit of his skin you can reach but it’s worthless. once caleb sets his mind into something, you’re definitely not the one that’s able to stop him with physical force. with a hand tightly around your waist and the other keeping your neck in place, his canine teeth sink down on your nape, biting down just enough to make the skin irritated and leave a scar for a few weeks.

and when you feel like you’re getting closer, his hips stop, his cock slips out of you and a strangled whine leaves your wet lips as he manhandles you, flipping you on your back. “you!-” annoying! you’re so annoying! bad dog!, you want to shout. “s-sorry. need to see your face.” he hisses as his eyes wander down at your breasts. “you’re so pretty, ahhh, so pretty. have i ever told you that?- fuck, mine and so pretty- oh-” 

he doesn’t waste any time, his hands help your legs up his shoulders and he slips inside you again. his sunset colored eyes stare at his cock going in and out, in and out, in and out of you and he finally notices the creamy ring around the base of his length and smeared on your lips. it’s pinkish, he notes, probably from being too rough and not stretching you properly. he’ll say sorry later.

“you’re so-” he pants tiredly, “so pretty.” a sweaty hand gropes the fat of your tit, squeezing it under his large palm. “want t’a breed you- need to- fuck! need to get your tits swollen with milk-” caleb leans in once again, this time bending your body like a stick, pressing your legs closer to your chest in the process. his nose takes a whiff of the valley of your boobs before wrapping his lips around your free boob, playing with the other one with his hand. 

your voice fails you once again. it’s not like you have the strength to judge him harshly again anyway. his tongue swipes at your hard nipple, sucking it like he has a point to prove. “and you would mghhh! would look so pretty and round and ah! everyone would know y’er mine, oh god-” 

with a last kiss, as if sealing a promise, he lets go of your nipple with mercy and stands up again, kissing your knee as an apology for bending you like your bones are made of jello. and then it hits him. “o-oh! s’rry forgot you like this.” the hand squeezing your tit snakes down between you two, adding some much needed stimulation to your clit.

you jump, legs thrashing against his shoulders and back at the pleasure. you clench around him once more and this time, it’s his turn to squeal in pleasure. “o-oh fuck. ‘m cumming, g’nna breed you, yeah? fill you up, mhm? yeah? fuck! cummin’!” caleb whines before throwing his head back, his sweaty hair barely moving an inch away from his forehead while doing so, and his once steady thrusts turn languid, messy. 

his cock twitches around you, spilling white, watery ropes in your pussy. bicolor orbs roll to the back of his skull as he feels his knot grow swollen at the base of his cock. even after coming, he keeps pistoning his hips in you, tiredly, but it’s the thought that counts.

at the weird, swollen and hot thing trying to fuck its way inside you, you mewl, eyes going wild open as caleb tries stretching you just a little more. 

“caleb-? what the aha! fuck?” — “sorry!” he cries but keeps going anyway, his fingers working faster around your clit to make up for the pain. “jus’ a little more? ple- ase? it feels good, doesn’t it?” back to being stupid and pathetic apparently, because the way he stares at you with puppy dog eyes and begs is disgusting. 

his other hand leaves your thigh to press down on your tummy and it becomes too much. your walls convulse around him and you cry, clit throbbing under his touch pathetically. the hand putting pressure on your bladder makes your eyes roll, your hands grip the sheets to the point of turning white.

“caleb! ah! oh my god- fuck- aha, cumming, i’m gonna cum! pl-please keep going!” 

and you don’t have to ask him twice. he thrusts his cock in you a last time, his knot slipping in easier than he thought it would, thanks to your drooling cunt and his cum and that does it for you. your body goes static, hips bucking against his and back arching against the bed. his fingers don’t stop, rubbing your clit until you’re shaking uncontrollably and your juices spray on his thighs and lower stomach.

“oh-”  — “don- not a word!” you manage to cry out.

“so… how long till it goes down?” you murmur tiredly against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his big frame as he lies on top of you. your legs feel sore, aching from being spread for so long, thanks to his cock still buried in you.

“an hour and a half, probably” caleb shrugs. 

your eyes snap open. “an hour?!” — “and a half.” he barks with a chuckle.

“i hate you! you’re heavy, y’know?! argh, bad dog!” he only manages to laugh at your rage and lick your cheek, covering it in saliva.

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-other than that, wasn’t so bad.” Simon says, readjusting the material of the balaclava across the bridge of his nose with his free hand. His other hand is busy, keeping yours warm as you lead him down sidewalk after sidewalk.

The two of you have just finished having Sunday morning brunch at a local cafe, something you insisted was becoming ‘tradition’ after the second time it happened. And according to you, after finishing eating, (Simon never wanting to hear a word about you paying for a thing) the next part of this lazy morning routine calls for strolling about at a pace that he would normally find pointless, if not downright frustrating. But for you, he slows down.

“Butcher’s an interesting first job.” You reply, nodding along in thought. You picture a younger Simon, fresh out of school, probably fresh faced as well. He was likely as tall, though not yet as muscular as the military would make him. A meat clever in hand, bloody apron around his waist, he was likely still inadvertently intimidating people back then the way he does now. “I was mostly just taking babysitting jobs until I graduated. Liked it well enough.”

“I actually had to babysit a neighbour one time, when I was younger. Actual baby at tha’ too.” He tells you with a chuckle, slightly shaking his head at the memory.

“What?” You laugh as well, the image in your mind now swapping out the meat clever in a teenaged Simon’s grip for a drooling infant. “How did that work out?”

“Neighbour comes bangin’ on our door, she’s carryin’ the thing, it’s screamin’ its bloody little head off,” You roll your eyes at the way Simon refers to the child, swatting his arm playfully but listening on. “She tells me her husband thinks he’s havin’ a fuckin’ heart attack. None o’ the other neighbours are home or answerin’ the door. ‘Fore I know it, she’s passin’ me the kid, askin’ if mum can watch her while she drives him to the hospital. Next thing I know she’s gone and I’m left with the thing.”

“Oh my gosh! Well where was your mum?” You ask, in disbelief that you’ve never heard this story from him before, half wondering if he’s pulling your leg.

“She wasn’t home, I can tell you that! Only me and the new lil’ orphan were.” He utters, strengthening his grip on your hand as you start to hunch over with laughter.

“Okay so wait, you were home alone? Oh no! How long did you have to ‘babysit’ for?” You giggle.

“Well technically Tommy was there but he would’ve only been a hindrance, told him to stay in his room.” Simon adds, pulling his hand out of yours, only to wrap it around your shoulder, now that you’ve come to a standstill at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. “Fuckin’ nearly 4 hours went by before mum came home and took over. Longest hours o’ my life. I think that might’ve been the day I enlisted actually.”

You elbow his side as you continue to laugh, seeing that he’s teasing you at the end now. You open your mouth to tease him right back, but your eye catches sight of the shop you’ve been standing in front of, jaw dropping wider.

“Simon!” You’re pulling him with a strength he would otherwise be impressed by if he wasn’t so suddenly caught off guard, senses kicking into high alert now as his head swivels in search of the cause of your distress. “How have we never seen this before??”

Oh.

He should’ve known better.

He actually had been avoiding taking you down this street for a little while now, but had been too caught up in his story telling to notice the direction you’d taken in him. His subtle effort of wrapping his arm around you to tilt you away from the storefront obviously hadn’t worked out. He opens his mouth to answer, but can only sigh when you’re already making your way towards the entrance of the pet store.

“We’re only lookin’, right?” He asks loud enough for you to hear as he follows you in.

Wrong.

[monstersholygrail]

Rushing Rapids

Merman x fem!reader— teasing, wild sex, creampie, aftercare, and a little teasing of cumplay

You could count on one hand the number of times your Merman Boss has let you see his Merman form. Far too busy running a highly successful company, the man doesn't often have time for a dip in the water to let his true self out to shine.

In fact, it was your job as his bodyguard to make sure he didn't come into contact with any source of water. Even the slightest drop ends up triggering his tail and he's left stuck like that for hours. And while your boss has gone through countless bodyguards to fulfill this task, you've been by far the best.

And you've lasted the longest too. You often hear his workers whispering to each other, secretly teasing him about how he must be in love with you to keep you around so long. While you didn't want to believe it, you couldn't ignore the way your heart flutters whenever it greets your ears.

But after today you're sure any feelings he has toward you are long gone. You half expect him to fire you on spot.

Today had been an important day for him as he had a lunch scheduled with an important client. All was going well until the waiter tripped, sending an entire pitcher of water to crash over him. You had been too slow, hadn't noticed the waiter fumbling nor the trajectory of the pitcher.

For a moment the world went still until your Merman Boss looked up at you with wide horrified eyes. While you were sure the horror was aimed at you, your boss was too busy wondering where he was possibly going to go. Luckily it just so happened that your place was nearby.

Now here you are, sitting on your toilet as your Boss' ginormous frame squishes into your tiny bathtub, his tail even falling off the edge and onto your floor. An adorable little pout marks his lips as he flicks at the water like he's this close to personally trying to fight it.

A part of you fears he's not only angry at the water but at you as well. Sure, you haven't been perfect at your job. You've made small mess ups here and there. But nothing like this.

"You seem upset."

Your Boss snaps his head over toward you, his pout growing impossibly bigger. If you didn't already know the question was ridiculous, his following scoff and the look on his face was plenty enough for you to get the message.

"Of course I'm upset. I just had a very important meeting fall through because a clumsy waiter forgot what even a merperson can do. Walk. And most don't even have legs."

His response stops you in your tracks, jaw dropping a little. He wasn't blaming you at all. The more you look at him the more you realize he isn't mad at you about it at all. Relief blooms in your chest, making you sit a little taller. You internally thank your boss, he should feel some of this relief too.

Without responding to his sarcastic reply you look around the bathroom in search of something that will help uplift the mood for him. As your eyes catch onto a bin in the corner your eyes light up.

Your boss is jolted from his thoughts as you suddenly dump a whole bin full of rubber duckies into the tub. All in attempts of making this feel more like a fun bath and less like a trap. But by the flat look on his face your boss is less than amused. Which you probably should've been expecting.

"Really? Rubber ducks?"

His voice shows his clear disdain for the toy but he hesitantly reaches out a hand and begins pushing it around. Almost... playing with it. Although he'd never admit that to you.

"Well, what else is there to do besides wait it out? There's not any other way to turn you back sooner?"

Your question settles between you two before something sparks in the depths of Merman Boss' eyes. His finger stills on the yellow duck toy but it drifts away in the water and it's impossible to know where it'll end up next. Something unsettling churns in your belly and you get the feeling you're not about to like this.

"Ok, so there may be something... But I can't say it out loud. Come in closer."

A lick of suspicion curls around you and your eyes narrow, appraising your boss. Though with one impatient look from him you know you won't be putting up an argument with him about it. He always ends up getting his way anyway so why not skip the foreplay?

"W-what is it? What can't you say out loud?"

The toilet rattles beneath you as you shift closer. It's the only real sound in the quiet bathroom aside from the swishing of water. Your breath hitches once you reach a certain closeness to your Merman Boss. This being officially the closest you've ever dared to be with him.

"Closer—“

"I'll do anything just tell me what you need," you interrupt, both not wanting to lose your job and giving any excuse you can to be near your boss.

Suddenly his hands are splashing out of the water and gripping onto your soft round hips. A shriek tears through you as one minute you're dry and the next you're soaking wet. And not in the good way either. You smack against a hard chest, your legs straddling the thick width of a tail, and it takes you a second to fully realize that your boss had just pulled you in.

Before you can lift your head to yell at him, his fingers pinch your chin and force you to meet his gaze. What you see in his eyes immediately silences you. The hunger burning in them leaves you gasping, sparking arousal deep in your core.

He leans in, stopping just short of your lips as they brush against each other. Your breath mingling and making you squirm on his slick tail. While you watch him stare down at your lips, waves of arousal continue to build within you.

"A human's kiss can turn me back much faster than simply waiting," he whispers softly like he doesn't want to break the tension between you.

Your body tingles with need as every fantasy you've ever dared to have about your boss dares to come to life. Every inch of you is overcome with impatience as you wriggle on his lap some more, gasping when something hard pops out from a slit on his tail.

"So why don't you kiss me?"

If possible, your Boss' eyes grow darker, the hunger inside them roaring to life as if trying to consume even him. His hold on your chin tightens like he's the one who needs to keep you still while he's shaking from his own restraint.

"Because once I start I won't be able to stop at just a kiss."

You go to ask what he means he bucks up his hips, intently brushing his rock hard cock along your clothed slit. And you immediately moan, totally unprofessional by the way, eyelashes fluttering briefly till you manage to look at your boss again.

You consider his words and what they could mean for you after this. But you want this, you've always wanted this since you first started working for the mysterious man. And it seems like he wants you just so much. So there's no need to fight it.

"Then don't stop," you reply.

Merman Boss surges forward before the words finish falling from your lips, his mouth clashing against yours. Mirroring moans vibrate between you like you're the sweetest damn thing he's ever tasted.

He presses into you as if trying to devour you, kissing you hard. Tongues fight for dominance and teeth knock together in your sheer desperation to make up for all the time you spent together not doing this.

His hand moves from your chin, caressing the skin of your cheek, and threading itself inside your hair. Ensuring you're real and that this is actually happening. Using his hold on you he molds your plump frame against his and starts rocking your core against his hard length.

"Get these off," he pants heavily, only breaking away from the kiss long enough to say that and then he's right back on you.

With a shocking amount of skill, the two of you manage to peel off your wet clothes in record time.

Both of you release strong powerful moans as your dripping cunt first makes contact with his thick girth. Every nerve in your body pulses as he takes hold of his cock and drags it through your folds, coating his length with your essence.

"You have no idea how long l've wanted this. Wanted you,” he breathes, his eyes shining with a longing that reflects your own.

"I have some idea."

Then you both moan as you sink down on his long pulsing cock, your hips buckling down on his length, taking him in hard and fast. Something ignites in your boss’ eyes and you shiver as his hands curl over your plush waist to help guide your movements.

But he has no idea how long you’ve been needing this, and it’s clear by the way his eyes widen as you start to ride him like your life depended on it. Your fingers dig into the scales on his shoulders to ground you and he hisses, his cock twitching and sliding against that special spot inside you.

With a fierce cry you start riding him even harder, every hard wet slap of your bodies meeting is aimed right for that spot, making you see stars. The water sloshes around in the tub like it’s in the midst of a raging storm when in reality it’s just you and your boss fucking each other’s brains out.

“Look at you, so perfect f’me. More than I ever realized,” your boss purrs, sounding as if he’s found the oceans most greatest treasure.

You moan loudly, your head rolling back as waves of pleasure rock through your body with every hard pump of his cock, his words only turning you on even more. Your body begins to buzz, on the precipice of something huge.

It only takes a few more pointed thrusts before you’re coming all over his cock with a ragged gasp, your body tensing before you sag against him, letting him take what he needs. And feeling your slick gummy walls clamping so deliciously on his length drives him nearly feral, his fangs flashing and his claws digging into your skin.

He moves your pussy up and down his cock, spurred on by every whine and whimper that falls from your mouth. Piercing growls slip from his own as your cunt drives him absolutely insane, he’s never felt anything better.

And he proves just that as he drives in as far as his cock can go and releases buckets of cum right into your depths, having never cum so hard in his life.

You both fall back to rest against the back of the tub, the only sound in the room being your harsh panting breaths. His hands smooth the tremors from your body, brushing up along your spine and holding you close. It’s nice and peaceful. Or is it the calm before the storm?

Because the longer he does it the action goes from soothing to arousing. And you know he can feel it too, just how much it’s affecting you. Your pulsing walls already trying to milk more from his spent shaft. And sea gods help him but it’s working.

“You know… it’ll still be some time before my tail fades. Why not make the most of it?” Your boss asks, hands sliding down to grab handfuls of your fat ass, and flexing his stomach as he rolls his hardening cock into your cum-filled cunt.

[szarina]

❝ A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶ SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS bullying + university au + heavy bullying + degradation + humiliation + threats + blackmails + she/her pronouns + sabotage + bribes + blow jobs + cunnilingus + name calling (slut, whore, being called pig related names) + noncon + dubcon + dacryphilia + penetrative sex + implied spanking + anal sex + double penetration + nonconsensual recording + DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

NOTES. it's been long since i've paid attention on this one and for @bimbosandbubbles, vanny. thank you for inspiring me to finish this one. semi part 2 here. part 3.

SYNOPSIS. evading your bullies isn't a good idea so they take you to learn your lesson.

at the start of your uni days, you expected life would open a new path for you. meeting new people from different cities or in the international, new experiences and a way for you to start a new life with a degree after college but you shouldn't have planned anything for yourself as life had different plans for you. to mock you and spat at your face for being naive.

stuck in the endless game of cat and mouse with the university's golden duo.

his bright blue eyes peering behind his dark glasses while he watch the busybodies of students walks through the busy hallways of the university. searching for a certain someone that has been the sole enjoyment of his for the last few months. the only one who have lasted them for so long.

spreading his long arms at the back of the bench. legs spread in an inviting manner as he leans back, head thrown back. looking at the person sitting besides him.

“suguru, are you sure she'll show up?” gojo whines, asking the dark-haired male with the same footing as his in the university. looks and popularity-wise.

taking a puff from his cigarette, geto turns his eyes to him before looking at the students coming out for their next classes. blowing out the smoke before replying to him. his purple eyes glints.

“patience, satoru. she will show up.” anticipating the return of their favorite plaything. you could such be a tease at time like this.

it was time. your eyes rapidly searching for them. hoping to avoid the duo that everybody have singing their names. you don't want to deal another humiliation nor degrading remarks coming from them. you prayed. prayed and prayed, hoping someone will hear your pleas. clutching the straps of your bag tighter as you step outside of your class.

you began to made your way to your next class. you were glad many students were still present and crowding the hallways but you could never be so sure. passing the crowd with an apology to your lips as you occasionally bump into them but you keep your guard up, avoiding to look in the courtyard. you keep your sight straight ahead but you could feel your eyes tear up when a sudden shove from a busy student hit you. the collision making you look in the direction where the duo was waiting for you.

even at the distance, you can see geto's eyes fixated on you. a smirk curls in his lips. shooting you a playful smile at your direction.

your prayer wasn't heard that day.

scrambling into your feet and pretends you didn't see him. making yourself blend in the crowd and disappeared into the place where you only know. your heart beating a mile per minute, running away from them.

“there she is, satoru.” geto called out to his friend. making gojo straighten himself up and looks where geto is looking at. you're running away from them. how sad. how stupid.

thinking you could easily escape them and blending in the crowd. clever girl. they thought but they couldn't miss you. like predators marking their prey to be devoured. they know you more than you know yourself. exchanging looks and geto smirks while gojo chuckles. fuck, you interest them more.

two cats letting the mouse escape and corner it again before they can fully escape in their grasp.

looking around, you made sure there's no one following you. no signs of the white hair and dark long hair best friends lurking around. taking the more quiet place that students use as shortcut when in a rush.

you just wanted a peaceful college life. not being a playtoy for the duo who passed you around like you were some cheap whore. you want to ask someone to help you but how could they help you. some attempts were made and the good souls who believes in you where blacklisted from the university for some unknown reasons.

you didn't know how much power gojo held and the words coming from geto's mouth enticing people who hang from his every word and realizing it only at the end.

gojo satoru is the only son and the heir of a multi-million company. who made a name for himself in the campus. the pretty boy who have different arm candies hanging in his arms weekly.

geto suguru who you doesn't know much but made himself popular along with gojo in the campus. charming he is and had a fan club made for him and to his best friend. they're the best if people were asked about them.

and you. you were just nothing but a toy to them. a past time when they're bored and you're left like nothing when they're done with you.

they won't follow you, do they? looking behind you to check and you almost let out a breath of relief. you barely escaped geto earlier. your nerves still working you up.

“i didn't take you the type to ditch us, (y/n).”

you almost jump, making you stop in your tracks as you look up in front of you. hand in his pockets while waving the phone in his other hand. a grin in his face while stepping closer to you.

with every step he take, you took backwards. not wanting to face him or geto. you don't want anything from them. tentatively taking your steps backwards. you just could blend again with the crowd. your mind formulating a thousand escape plans. you only look at him in contempt. a last chance of bravery against him.

spinning your heel and you made a run for a life. you could taste the escape in your lips. away from him. away from the people who made your life hell.

flashes of light blinded you for a second before realizing you were stopped. the tight grip in your arm, the smell of cigarette clinging into his shirt. it almost made you gag.

“nice one, suguru. (n/n) thinks she can escape us.”

there was a stinging sensation behind your eyes. the hope you're once clinging ripping into shreds. falling once again to the madness this two seeks for the pleasure of their own entertainment.

geto pulls you closer to his. wrapping his arm in your shoulder. your back against his chest while his hand went to cup your jaw. raising your head to meet his smile. you sure could punch him if you have the guts but looking at his face, you couldn't deny that geto suguru is attractive. maybe it's the lightning or how his hair is elaborately tied in a bun where the other locks of his hair is loose underneath and the single strand of his hair falling down. acting like bangs in his face. the warm light of the sun illuminating his face like halo. it's almost— godly.

you felt stupid for admiring one of the people in your life who made it hell. it's a realization how small you felt, how powerless you are with this two and they remind you of it every single time of your life.

your lips is curled up in a frown and gojo take notice of it. the latter grinning and walking forward where his friend got you trapped.

grasping your chin in his slender fingers, blue eyes inspecting your face behind his dark glasses. leaning closer to brush his lips to yours and the immediate reaction earns a laugh of amusement to his. tucking back your lips and moving your head to the side. blinking back the tears and he'd be lying if he didn't like the tears on you.

you weren't special. you're nothing worthy of praise nor attention but you do give them a hell of a time. you didn't even look or close to the numerous bitches they had fucked. they were naturally submissive which they like and the worst is they got clingy which is incredibly annoying for them. skanky bitches like them think they can have a piece of them. thinking they're now hotshots for sleeping with them when they're just holes for them to fill and to leave.

you — you got a fight in you. they wouldn't tell you that aloud. they didn't need to shape a bitch for them. bitches are made for them and you, even a dozen times they break you, you're still standing up and perhaps they could keep you longer until you submit to them and throw you away like a trash. follow them like a lost puppy that is still coming back even kicked and worship them at their feet. they needed you to break.

your eyes betrayed you, no. it wasn't tears instead it was the impalpable glare you have given to someone and not just to someone. it was one of your bullies.

his shit eating grin turning into one of a coldest lines forming in his lips before turning into one of a condescending smile. an immediate silence taking over and geto didn't missed that despise being behind you. harshly yanking your arms he was holding and earning a whimper from you.

“ah, ah. what's that? acting brave now are we? who taught you that or perhaps we didn't teach you enough what happens to fat slut like you acting up? mmm?” he hums. closing his eyes as his lips crooks into a smile. his bangs covering one side of his eye and the other opens or both. you couldn't tell when his bangs is covering the other.

“suguru, don't be like that. we've been just too lenient at her and now — acting too brash. we don't want this for our pet suguru, do we?” gojo tuts. tapping his fingers to your cheek, eyes locking to geto. the eye contact generating the sickest of punishments they can sentence you to.

“please — i-i need to go....” your voice stumbling at the words and your false courage starting to crumble. you couldn't think how stupid you were for glaring at gojo. he deserves it and it's not enough. you thought. bitter memories starting to surface while you think of all the humiliations you had to endure by his hands and if you were getting punished which was already placed into you, you should have glared at his friend too.

gojo tuts.“nuh uh, where do you think you're going? this is what you get for avoiding us. you need to learn your place.” the snow white haired boy jeers at you.

suguru only smirks, grabbing your arm to drag you from wherever they wished to punish you. gojo following suit whilst humming a tone from a random song.

you ended up in a vacant classroom in where the area is currently renovated and staff and students alike are forbidden to enter minus the construction workers who were taking a lunch break. giving the duo the time to punish you in their own ways. you can feel the bile rising in your throat and the familiar sparks of tears stinging behind your eyelids. your heart quickening its beats from the nervousness and the shame you have to face on or it will never end. it never ends.

“strip.” the black haired male ordered you. seated in one of the chairs in the vacant room. his friend is also comfortably seated too. a huge smirk plastered on his face, resting his head in his palm while those blues in his eyes glints in anticipation.

“n-no.” you stammer out. your hands trembling. clenched in fists in your back.

geto fakes a frown. twirling his phone in his hand while he types the password in his phone.

“no? such a shame if the whole uni would see what kind of a slut you are. you look good in this one, pretty i might say. taking satoru's cock so well. hm?” tapping the phone in his fingers while showing you a clip of a video they had previously filmed from the past sessions. both had a copy in their own phones. they may never say it but it's a video they treasured whenever they misses you. “poor mommy and daddy. they will know how much of a slut a daughter they had raised.”

“you can't do that. you have no right.” there's a sound similar to a whisper in your voice. a cruel smirk etched in his face, looking at your helpless state. they know the power they hold. what would you do report? ask the others? too bad, they'll never believe you as long they're around. people worship them. what's the power of a peasant against them? nothing.

“he can, (y/n)-chan. just one tap away and the whole world will see you for who you really are. a slut who's desperate of attention. now, follow suguru's order or we'll post it.” satoru warns. playing with the arms of his dark glasses. the action making you see a peek of what's under them.

and just like that, like a puppet you obey them. your hands trembling along with your vision blurring from the tears that started to spill from your eyes. forced to follow what they ordered to you. you couldn't risk to be find out. knowing full well that you would just be shamed even it's not your fault. who would believe you after all? you were an unfortunate being that got thrown in a tiger's den. you think of your parents — who worked so hard for your education. if hardwork and determination would reward you along with their sacrifices. you will be the first one to graduate in your family. you just have to endure it. give in to their demands and maybe — just maybe. it will end faster and you could wallow in shame on your own.

retracting your arms and you unhooked your bag slinging in your back. placing it on the nearest table. there's a soft thud along with the taps of their shoes in the wooden floor. impatiently waiting for you to completely strip of your garments.

your head hung know as you hesitate to reach out for the lower buttons of your blouse. your fingers wobbles as the buttons enter the holes of your blouse. one by one. the buttons coming undone and you blinked back the tears again but no matter how many times you blinked the tears came running down your cheeks.

you couldn't run. not when the fate of your education and dignity are stored in their phones — or maybe. you'll let them and disappear forever — away from their hungry gazes and hands that turns filth whatever they touches.

a pair of blue and purple dances at your snivelling form. that look suits you better than being a stubborn bitch you are. all bark and no bite. who's the the loser now?

it's getting quite annoying how you slowly take your clothes off and the modesty of it. a red long sleeved blouse and underneath it a black tank top paired with a long black denim skirt that preserves and gives you the impression of being a modest and goody two shoes person. boring. they make sure to put in mind what clothes you are allowed to wear for immediate contact.

satoru sighs but it's closer to belching. growing impatient as he taps his shoes in the floor before standing up and walks towards you.

he holds the tops of your shirt before tearing it up. the last buttons flying away as they got ripped. you panicked and grasping his hands to stop it but he's stronger than you. easily pulling your arms away as he yank your shirt. the action resulting in your skin burning and welts starting to form where the cloth had touched your skin.

“no! no — please! i—i'll do anything you want but not this!” you cried, hands squirming to take it away from his tight grasp. “tsk. too late.” gojo taunts. turning his head to look at geto who was enjoying the view. “suguru~, lend a hand will you? little mousy-chan is real stubborn today” asking his friend nonchalantly.

geto shakes his head, cupping your jaw harshly that it started to hurt and leaves bruises to the skin. forcing you to raise your head to look at him. “this wouldn't happen if you were obedient. we could have shown you mercy and instead what did you do? running away from us like a squealing pig. accept your punishment.” his pupils darkening and you watch it through your glossy eyes.

“a bad, bad — bad girl, you are. who taught you this? ahh, maybe it's mommy or daddy. run away from the big bad wolf eh. it's that what they taught you. they're wrong. you're a swine who lures men at your undesirable self.” he continues to sneer at you.

you didn't know what's hurting at this point. your body or your soul. you didn't know. you couldn't even shield yourself from the spite of their hatred and disgust for you. if you were really this ugly and undesirable for them. why would they bother for it. you know it wouldn't be difficult for them to get their dick wet. girls swoon and was more than willing to give their body for them and if they want another to give the same treatment you receive, they can. a much more appealing person for their taste. a far cry from what you are.

he lets go of your jaw, the sound of your tank top being ripped from the back resonating in the room. geto grabs your head, your face pressing on his chest while he holds you to avoid interrupting his friend who was having the time of his life tearing your clothes off. your bra following suit. your denim skirt being tugged away and that made you cry even more, leaving you only in your panties.

gojo continues his torment at you. slapping and pinching the muffin top in your waistline. chuckling while his fingers digs marks into the skin. amused from the fat of your body jiggling and swaying with the assault it was taking.

his eyes twinkling in pure glee and it returns to normal meeting geto's gaze at him. looks are exchanged, a quiet agreement that they both fully understand what it meant coming for you.

geto places his hands into your shoulders before pushing it down, forcing you to kneel with no consideration for the bruises that will later bloom. gojo watches in pure amusement while his friend manipulates you into his will. this is what suguru is. his true colors in full display.

geto is not the person you want to be messed up with. striking in the place where you don't expect it. nothing can hinder suguru when getting what he desires and a shame for those fuckers who tried to help you. what they did get? blacklisted from the university with a anomaly he conjured up.

flickers of sunlight and dust mingles in the room. gojo shakes his head watching as his friend switched his charismatic demeanor into one of a sadistic. “suguru, don't get too hasty. i thought you were the cool one here.” he said nonchalantly, eyes hungry with desire and need from raking through your half naked figure. kicking your torn clothes strewn in the floor.

“i don't tolerate defiant bitches who can't follow rules and begs for mercy from their mistake.” his voice cool with hint of malice behind them. “i should put you in your place, (n/n). ” he smirks, relishing on how hope simply vanishes into your eyes.

“now don't be like that to me, (y/n). please me and maybe i'll change my mind.” his eyes narrows down at you while you're in the verge of tears. your lips are wobbling. faced with suguru's crotch and you regret looking in his eyes. a silent plea for him to change his mind. a condescending smile only and you received your answer.

you blink back the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes while you reach for his belt loops. shaky hands unbuckled his belt and you were shook that you were fumbling and when geto took a breath, you quickly managed to unhook the loops and pulling the zipper of his pants down.

you never wanted to make it worse than it was when geto would show his impatience towards you and in your situation you can only obey.

he's huge. always was. the outline of his cock is pressed against his boxers. “i presume you won't be needing my help to get it out, princess.” his tone velvet smooth with a hint of impatience dripping in it. you accepted your fate when you tug his boxers down. his cock springing free and it slaps to his abdomen. “suck.” he orders you with no hesitation and you think you could cry at this moment and then you remembered how cruel the two are when disobeyed especially the male above.

you take a experimental lick in the tip of his cock before enveloping it with your tongue. you feel him shiver. a grunt can be heard next as you swallow half of his cock. bobbing your head in a slow motion while you stroke the other half of his cock.

suguru stare at the scene below him. his cute piggy taking his cock in your mouth. he places his hand behind your head. forcing you to look at him and it makes his cock throb more at your mouth. your round cheeks in display and your lips wrapped around his cock and that teary gaze of yours meeting his own. “take more of this cock, princess.” tapping your cheek and you obediently followed. he let out a curse as you take him deeper. closing his eyes for a brief moment and he returned to watch you take more of him. “you can only follow an order if you're being threatened. might do more of this—shit—haaah.” grunting as you fondle his balls.

satoru watch in pure amusement as you take his friend's cock. slobbering all over it as you suck him deeper and he's a little jealous. not used in his spotlight being taken by someone and suguru was no exception and your attention should be also on him. his blue eyes peering through his glasses. he watch as your round face struggled to swallow more of his friend's girthy cock. drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as you bob your head back and forth.

gojo shudders at the blood rushing in his cock. he began to palm his cock through his pants. groaning and the little puffs of breath he was taking. unable to contain his excitement he pulled out his cock. stroking his veiny cock in a slow torturous manner as his cum dribbles down from the tip of his cock.

“suguruuu~” geto winces at the call of his name. eyes half-glaring at his friend for interrupting the haze he was in of your mouth sucking him. “you're not the only one allowed to fuck (y/n)-chan's mouth. sooo let me have her mouth.” gojo smiles at him and suguru scowls for a moment before giving your mouth to suck satoru's cock.

gojo grins. “f-fuck... suck me more...” the white haired boy stutters. burrowing his dick deeper in your mouth making you gag but he didn't care. feels too good to notice that you're almost choking on his cock as tears appeared in the corner of your eyes. your other hand still occupied jerking suguru's length.

the duo loves nothing more than this. their cute, little toy being used by them. you spent the last minutes alternating between their cocks, both covered by your spit. you were currently sucking him off and suguru groans at his impending orgasm and satoru isn't doing good either but before their orgasm bursts. they made you stop.

“open wide baby.” gojo pants. both of them pumping their cocks in unison before shooting their load in your mouth. spurts of their cum dropping in your tongue and some landing in your face. “what do we say after giving you our cum?” his face remaining passive as he reminds you and if you answer it wrong, this will last longer.

“t-thank you.” you shyly mutters. voice low and sounding so obedient. that seems to satisfy suguru as he replied with a hum. holding your jaw between his thumb and index finger. swiping the sticky cum glazed in your face with his thumb, he smeared it in your face and without further adieu you swiped the cum in your lips with your tongue. the bitter taste of their cum coating your taste buds and it would linger for days to come.

“you could be such a good girl, you know that, sweets.” satoru commented. admiring your face covered in cum. “even you could be such a bitch sometimes and you choose today to act up and we know what happens when you break a rule, you get punished.” squishing your round cheeks before staring at you dead in the eye with his blue eyes glimmering more than ever. “and punishment starts now.”

breathing is not the same as it was anymore. you sat in suguru's lap uncomfortably. your ass stinging, covered with handprints as it starts to form welts. air became lacking as suguru continues to kiss you.

“mmm...” the small sounds is all you can manage while suguru shoves his tongue deep inside. it's been minutes and this punishment gets worst as the clock ticks.

suguru can be gentle as he is rough. the dried tears sticking in your cheeks are the evidence of it and your much demure attitude after a spanking does the trick of it so he's rewarding you of kissing you until you're breathless. your soft lips perfectly melding in his and suguru enjoys every minute of it. you taste of the sea and something sweet or it just could be him. licking your tears before this. it was humiliating to you while he savors every minute for it.

geto smirks in the kiss when he hears gojo speak. “she's so fucking wet, suguru.” gojo laughs. watching as slick flows in your dripping hole. your thighs are spreaded by him and preventing you to close your legs away from his gaze. “all that spanking got you, hah. i barely touched you.” mocking you as he laughs. your body tensed and geto noticing the change in your body chuckles. “getting shy, are we? let satoru do what he wants and maybe we're going to be gentle to you this time.” it wasn't much of a request but an order. you simply nodded. “good girl.” suguru mutters before dipping again for a another kiss. holding you closer to him while his hand in your back gripping the rolls on it and the other hand in your breast. his finger brushing to your stiff buds.

satoru let suguru have his fun and so is he. what's in front of him is going to tastier and he can't wait to dig. parting your thighs wider, satoru first bestowed a chaste kiss to your doughy thighs. making sure they are given equally the amount of being worshipped by him. he won't say it aloud but your thighs are his favorite. smooching the expanse of your thighs and sometimes resting his cheek to your thigh just to feel that softness over it. he will get both of them to squish his cheeks or crush his head. he doesn't care.

a smack sound can be heard as satoru took his first lick to your fat pussy. humming in delight for diving back in. his tongue lapping in your sweet heat and more obscene noises grew from his desperate feats of licking your slit with his tongue. alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue to get more of that goodness.

your plush body jerks involuntarily. all the places with the extra bits jiggling at the sudden intrusion of his tongue. moaning in the kiss where suguru had you locked. “mmm...hah—mmm...” is the only sound you can produce as suguru licks your tongue and going back again to take your lips in his. drool covering both of your mouths. eyes half-lidded and you're drunk in this haze and you take a peek of satoru in between your legs. his white hair moving so gracefully as he slurps loudly the juices spilling in your cunt. his large hands holding firmly your thighs. sinking in the softness of it as your thighs gets bigger at being squish. the flesh spilling in his thick fingers.

satoru let goes on your clit with a loud pop before you can cum. your whines muffled by suguru's lips on your own and satoru chuckles. wiping the juices covering his mouth. “i got on her pussy first, suguru.” satoru reminded him and the man in front of you smiles. “no need to remind me, satoru. i'll take her ass.” he nonchalantly commented and your widens. squirming in his lap to get off but suguru clutches your flabby arms in his hands. “don't be scared. it will feel good like your pussy does.” he convinces you but you don't want it. “who cares about that, it's part of the punishment.” suguru growls and that puts you in your place. accepting what they decided for you.

“hey, suguru. frightening our dear (y/n)-chan will get her holes tight. you might want to loosen her.” gojo commentated whilst rubbing your slit with his fingers.

geto tsk. visibly annoyed, a rare occurrence for gojo to see his friend like this. “satoru, punishment is punishment.” the purples in his eyes darkening and gojo shrugs. “whatever. i still get to fuck her fat pussy.” sticking out his tongue towards suguru.

it was painful to swallow the lump in your throat that never existed again and again. your hands are clammy while the duo began to position themselves to you. satoru slapping your ass before hooking his arms behind your knees and his hands holding the back of your thighs hoisting you up. wrapping your arms in his and the other in suguru.

the black haired beauty holds your ass. suguru spreading your ass cheeks and the tip of his cock prodding at your tight hole. “please, geto. not in there please. i—i'll do any—mmph” the sharp thrust of his cock interrupted your plea. making you cry at the burning sensation in your hole. clenching your fist in a tight manner. your eyes hot and warm tears came rolling down your cheeks from the pain like rivulets. “and what? you'll do anything. too late now, sweetheart.” suguru examines your face as it twist again in the thrust of satoru's cock in your cunt.

“fuck!” satoru curses out. chuckling at himself. “the only good thing in you is tight pussy of yours.” your velvety walls clenching around his cock. “are you crying?” satoru teases taking a mental note of your tears.

both of them adjusts their hold on you. beginning to move their hips in an upward motion to thrust their aching cock in your warm holes.

it burns. everything stings with every move. your muscles begging to rest as it tears from how they stretched your muscles and your limbs put in a uncomfortable manner. this is how your day supposed to go on. why you must be in this position. unwilling and unlucky to escape this kind of situation. you're always in trouble with this two and maybe if you weren't so fat for this two to mock and make fun of you wouldn't be here.

mistaking the tears in your eyes as being overstimulated which is true but you're troubled with the inner turmoil of yourself so you get lost and the two began to harshly pound their lengths deep inside you. groaning and throwing at curses.

satoru rests his forehead in your shoulder and behind his glasses, his eyes, the prettiest shade of blue seems to shine in astonishing sight of your pudgy belly. squished together and like dough being stacked together. jiggling at the impact of their thrusts in you and his sight lowers. his cock disappearing inside your pussy as it glistens and the wet squelch it was making, it was simply music to his ears. biting the junction of your neck. he stare at suguru who's smirking at the sensation of your tight hole gripping his cock. “she feels so good, suguru—ahh.. this pussy's trying to choke my cock.” satoru commented.

“you hear that, you feel so good.” suguru holds your jaw forcing you to look at him. “open your mouth, baby.” parting your lips at his order, suguru spits on your mouth. a glob of his spit hitting your tongue in which you didn't hesitate to swallow and suguru smiles. “good girl.” he praises.

hard muscles are a contrast to your soft body. sandwiched between their bodies while they keep their pace steady in bullying your holes with their cocks. a moan is ripped from your throat when satoru hits the spongy spot in your cunt. knowing what he had done, satoru grips your thighs firmly as he angles his cock inside. hitting that spot repeatedly until you can't stifle the sounds coming from you. involuntary moans come spilling from your mouth and gojo swells with pride that only him, well both of them. he and suguru could make you moan like that. how did he know? silly to ask that. they're the only ones who had fucked you since you started college and the first to take your virginity. they didn't even allow men to approach you.

suguru wanting you to make you feel good like satoru does have to speed up his thrusts usually than what he always do. it's not even a work up from him. his desire for your asshole to only know the shape of his cock and he's the only one who can fuck this ass of yours.

“'too much. too much.” you babbled. the pleasure and pain is getting overwhelming for you to take. instead in pitying you it earned a chuckle from the two. “since when did it became too much for you, huh? you're a slut. sluts don't go to tell that it's too much. all they can do is shut up and take it.” satoru taunts you.

gojo hisses when your cunt squeezes around him. the creamy white ring forming in the base of his cock as you came. “shit! she came suguru.” satoru said in amusement and even he's like that he's getting close too and so is suguru. they exchange looks briefly before putting their strength in reaching their end.

you can't speak. they've taken your ability to speak. you can only moan in silence as you feel another orgasm bubbling in your abdomen again. you're going to cum and it's going to be more intense than the last one. you feel them both. hot and throbbing. the veins in their cocks making ridges in your soft walls. taking and molding their very shape.

harsh thrusts are back to back being blown to you. the tips of their cocks hits deeply as they can before releasing their loads. both groaning as spurts after spurts of their cum are being loaded inside of you. never did you felt to be so full and warm until they've released their loads inside of you. hot and sticky.

it took a few more thrusts before the both of them had ridden their high. handsome as they are and wicked even after fucking their favorite plaything. removing your arms around their shoulder. you slowly descended on the floor. both of their cum escaping your holes. dripping and staining the cold hard floor where you sat. you ignore them and you know the drill after being fucked by them. it's time to leave and slowly, you began to gather your clothes. your blouse are useless. tattered and shredded and it won't cover you. you're lucky your denim skirt are still intact.

reaching out for your bag to get the spare clothing you packed for when it happens. you grabbed the wet wipes. patting where their release had stained you, mostly in your face. a stream of tears you didn't even notice falling from your eyes got you wondering why the floor below you is getting wet. the realization dawning into you and you can only cry silently. dressing yourself and trying to be more decent.

satoru and suguru busied themselves fixing their clothing. not leaving the sight of their toy cleaning their self. suguru crouches down to meet your position. “crying after what you've put yourself into.” he commented. “pathetic.” satoru mutters as he watch you beneath him. “try not to defy us again, okay? it would be much worst than this one.” there's a hint of softness in his voice and maybe you could convince yourself that he wasn't a jerk from the way he spoke but you know better. they had humiliated you until you hated yourself. degrading you like you were nothing a dirt and not a human being.

“i understand. i'm sorry.” you say. bowing your head in shame for being disobedient at them. for not following simple orders. “good.” his only response to you.

“can i please go now?”

suguru hums and with that, you slowly made your way outside. your bag tightly secured in your back with your ripped clothes, you left without saying a word again with tears streaming down your face.

when you disappeared from that door, the duo both left at the building. going on with their lives again as the golden boys of the university and you were left with nothing, not even a shred of your dignity.

satoru reviews the newly recorded of you being impaled by their cocks. feeling hard again from the way your pussy wrapped around him along with your soft body pressed against him. “the best, satoru.” suguru commented after seeing what his friend is watching in his phone. “send it to me.” whipping his phone in a second and quickly typing.

your phone buzzes. alerting you with a message. you were wiping your tears after you nearly trip. absentmindedly wandering in the campus and if it wasn't for you almost tumbling you wouldn't break out from your stupor. more tears rolled in your cheeks, dripping down in the screen of your phone after you've read the message.

suguru: see you later.

[novthirty]

🐦‍⬛ OUT OF BOUNDS — you get isekai-d into the n109 zone [chapter four]

synopsis — the monotony of your university days is interrupted by a stroke of misfortune, one which lands you in the world of love and deepspace, the game you had been casually playing for the previous months. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of being his personal secretary. — a continuation of the one-shot “out of bounds”

pairing — sylus x non-mc! reader

tags — reader is not mc, isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, mutual pining, slice of life, boss/employee relationship, slow burn, grief, mourning, loss

a/n — we have finally reached the long awaited reader crashout and are nearing the end… i hope you all enjoy! this chapter was fucking with me for so long and i wanted to take my time rather than under deliver. this story means a lot to me and i’m trying my best to make sure it pays off well<33 but still, 18k words was not easy to edit so please don't mind any slight errors ���� also, caleb came home in 30 pulls so do expect a birthday fic coming soon ~ (whether it'll be on time for his birthday is the question...)

ao3 | masterlist | series masterlist | part three | part five [coming soon]

chapter four: inevitable — it’s hard to shine when you’re standing between the sun and the moon. wc: 18.6k

The hunter’s arrival is no more than a whisper within the N109 Zone. 

Sylus has kept the truth of her existence under lock and key, hiding his weakness under steel and chainmail. As far as the world knows, his interest lies in the protocore attached to her heart — and he plans to keep it that way. Biding his time, preparing for the day he carefully steps into her life.

But, like the force of nature she was, the hunter manages to find her own way in.

He’s the image of cool confidence as he’s informed of her capture in enemy hands, draping a blazer atop his shoulders and instructing the twins to start the car. “Will you be able to hold the fort on your own?” He asks.

But you can see the barest tremor in his hands, the tension in his shoulders, the rising fear of losing her before he even gets to see her with his own two eyes.

“You can count on me.”

This is the only peace you can offer him in the midst of this chaos. 

His eyes continue to linger, as if time wasn’t of the essence. Little words have been exchanged between the two of you since the hunter came into the picture. And for a moment, you think he might say something (please, say something). But all he does is grip your shoulder as if to ground himself, nodding in a silent ‘thank you’ before he leaves. 

The door shuts behind him. 

You know how this story goes. It was only a matter of time before he reunited with his lover in this life, before the story would continue along its tracks and catch you in the crossfire. 

Your search for a way home had become painfully futile. You’d think a world altered by the discovery of the Deepspace Tunnel would have more answers to the truth of your presence here, but your search had dug up nothing. Wormholes, dimensional travel, transmigration; from the philosophical to the scientific, all paths led to dead ends. 

You sit listless in your chair, fiddling with the necklace Sylus gave you as you wait for your life to be thrown into chaos. 

Staring into the metropolitan abyss of the N109 Zone, you sometimes like to imagine what sylus sees. An ant-like web of crimes and deceit, of power-hungry folks looking to get ahead and eat each other alive in the process. But all you ever see is a world beyond your understanding. And here, you wonder where you fit in this ecosystem; what your presence has done to change the story. 

You burst into terrible, broken laughter.

You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. 

You were but a drop of water in the ocean. There was nothing that you, with no worth or significance to your name, could do to make more than a solitary ripple.

And so, you keep your longings locked and your love as just thoughts, as you wait in bated breath for the story and their fated reunion to begin.

—————————————————————

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice is biting as the twins bring her to the room you’ve prepared. Ornate, spacious, and windowless, just as Sylus asked. A gilded cage with an open door. You don’t see her but her rage rings through the corridors, something that feels almost like a hallucination after having stepped in her shoes, reading the story you once adored.

Her arrival is a marker of the story catching up to you, of time catching up to you. A reminder that you do not belong in this world. 

In the next few days, you become a quiet observer of this tale, watching their fractured reunion play out.

“What makes you think I'd ever be willing to help you?” She snapped at Sylus after their third failure at resonance, a sad attempt at a threat when she lay exhausted, slumped in the fancy chair in his study.

“You don’t exactly have a choice, sweetie. As you can see —” He gestures to the opulent surroundings, “— you’re in my territory.”

You roll your eyes. Trust Sylus to make a shit first impression, even to the supposed love of his life.

You keep to the sidelines, going about your typical routine. But your curiosity gets the better of you on the second day, when you offer to bring the hunter her food. 

You can’t help but imagine being in her shoes right now; kidnapped by the man she believes to have destroyed her home and killed her family. To an extent, you think it might not be so different to how you felt, first arriving here.

So, you decide to reach out. Maybe gain her trust and coax her into eating and regaining her strength. Food is the way to the heart, after all. At dinner time, you bring a tray to her room, knocking on the door and calling her name.

“Who's there?” She asks from the other side of the door, wariness lacing her voice. 

You introduce yourself, “It’s me, Sylus's secretary. Aren’t you hungry?” You soften your voice, treating her with the gentleness you would a cornered animal, but you’re met with silence. Concern gnaws at you, “You haven’t eaten in twenty four hours.”

She scoffs, the sound muffled by the barrier between you two. “What, isn’t that your plan? Starve me til’ I’m too weak to escape and resist Sylus's demands?”

You stop in your tracks, puzzled. “Escape? You know you can leave, right? No one’s going to stop you.” Even the door was unlocked. But you believed knocking was a basic form of respect, unwilling visitor or not.

She stays tight-lipped for the next few moments, so you continue, “Not that you’d get any further than a couple blocks, what with vultures hanging around the compound at all hours of the day—” Your spiel is cut off as she suddenly swings the door open, doing a double take at the sight of you.

It’s clear she sees the resemblance just as you had, her face contorting from defensiveness to stunned confusion. But for you, seeing her in the flesh only refuted any idea of similarity between the two of you.

Haggard and bruised, the hunter still manages to shine in the gritty underbelly of the N109 Zone.

When you first saw her face projected in the hologram, the likeness was unmistakable. The shape of your eyes, the slope of your nose, and the barely-there difference in the color of your hair and complexion. Anyone could have mistaken the two of you as cousins, maybe even siblings. But standing in front of her now, the difference has become clear as day.

You can’t help but understand how so many have fallen head over heels, enthralled by her and her character. In the shadow of her energy and vivacious presence, you could only look dim in comparison. Standing beside Sylus was no small feat — one that you’d failed to live up to, looking nondescript and ordinary at the side of the most powerful man in the N109 Zone. 

But of course, she fits like the missing piece to his puzzle. The dragon and the sorceress, now the criminal and the hunter. You try not to feel inferior, tamping down the jealousy and pettiness festering within you, but it’s hard to shine when you’re standing between the sun and the moon.

The initial surprise dissipates, and she eyes you with the mistrust expected of a kidnapee twice-over. You extend the tray towards her as a sign of good will, “Eat it while it’s still hot.”

“...How do I know it’s not poisoned?”

You huff, taking a quick bite. “Happy now?” 

She snatches the tray and slams the door behind her in one quick motion. You click your tongue; so much for gaining her trust. 

—————————————————————

Time had dulled your memory of how awful their first meeting truly was. 

Really, what was Sylus thinking? You wonder as he treats his treasured soulmate so… menacingly. 

You’ve become a bystander to the motions of the story you’re familiar with; the failed resonance, her disdain for him, and his absolute lack of tact in interacting with her. With his every word coated in menace and veiled threats, you’re wondering if Sylus was even thinking at all. Was he like this when you two first met? You try to recall as you get the ick from his unexpected hostility.

You want to know what’s running through his mind, what possessed him to think this was the appropriate way to go about this. But since the hunter’s arrival, your time with him had become even more scarce, any moment together cut off by his work or your urgency to leave. 

Guilt washes over you each time you see his face drop, when you make another hasty escape from facing him. But you cling on to the belief that this was necessary, to give you both space to adjust to the hunter’s presence, and for you to learn to live with the fact that he was not yours.

The two return from the workshop, and you stride into the office to give your daily secretarial report — only to find him hunched at his desk with a glass of wine, staring vacantly into the skyline of the N109 Zone.

In the dimly lit office, his eyes, shrouded by the shadows, give away nothing. But you catch the way his shoulders tense, his fingers clenching the stem of the glass. 

“Sylus?” You call out gently, announcing your presence with audible footsteps as you approach him, breaking your internal promise to keep your distance. But you could only hold out this one-sided silence for so long, weak in the face of his vulnerability. 

He calls your name with a weary tone, “Do me a favor and tell the informant I won't be meeting him today.”

“Are you okay? What happened?” You take slow steps in approaching him.

He fiddles with the stem of his wine glass as he releases a low, bitter laugh, “Well… it seems that our dearest hunter fears me. It was not any bodily dysfunction or injury that was preventing us from resonating, but rather her disgust.”

She captured his heart, bound his soul to hers, and now has no recollection of any of it. Detests him to the point her evol rejects his. 

You feign ignorance to the story beats you remember, “Well, it’s only been so long since you’ve met her again… If she’s still the same person, her memories of you are still there, deep down.”

“As if the world hasn’t made me wait long enough.” 

You don’t know what to say to that — heart torn between feeling bruised and feeling sadness for him.

“I'd like to be alone.” He takes a deep breath, a subtle command as returns his gaze to the skyline, guarding his vulnerability, unwilling to bare more of his weaknesses than he already has.

The world sees Sylus as an unstoppable force, as the supreme authority in the criminal underworld. But though the dragon may be fierce and capable, the human underneath was just that — a human. One that got frustrated, whose skin bruised, who had weaknesses that he guarded with veiled ferocity. But somehow, somewhere along the way, he’d chosen to strip the curtains of that vulnerability to you.

Maybe in another world, you would have taken him into your arms, refused to leave him as he quietly fell apart. But in this reality, it was no longer your place to do so. As it was, he had promised his heart to another, leaving yours too tender to comfort his.

The only peace you could offer him now was the privacy to crumble in solitude.

Still, you couldn’t bear to leave him so quietly. “You’re not a hard person to love. You know that, right?” You whisper, a quiet admission of your feelings. For all his gruff and intimidating nature, it was not his power, money, or looks that earned him your affection. But rather, all the softness he guards from the harsh world he lives in.

You shut the door before he can acknowledge you, trying to wipe the mental image of his conflicted expression. You mute his email for the next hour, redirecting it to your inbox, offering him a brief moment of peace to ruminate in his thoughts.

You laugh silently, bitterly to yourself, for giving so much of yourself for a man who was devoted to another. Despite having been set aside, you still can’t help but show your love for him in the only way you know how. (In the only way you can).

And you wonder to yourself: could you ever touch the part of him that hurts? One of the most powerful men in this world, having his world shaken by the hunter’s disdain. If it were your spite, your hurt that he faced, would it even feel close to the gravity he feels now? 

You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to. 

You had found yourself in the deep end, and it was high time to swim back to shore, to back out of this one-sided race. Because you may have received his affection, but you will never receive the depth of his devotion.

—————————————————————

Hostility melts into mischievous affection as the hunter’s dynamic with Sylus takes a sudden pivot into unfamiliar territory. The visit to the shopkeeper marked a turning point in their relationship as Sylus came to his senses, and their relationship evolved for the better. The truth to their tied souls, you think, as you bear witness to the connection quickly blossoming between them.

You’re fine. Really, you are. 

(At least, that’s what you tell yourself each time you see the soft smile on his face, melting in adoration for the hunter.)

You stop avoiding him, after catching a glimpse of the vulnerability he attempts to hide. His face lights up whenever you approach him, breaking the silence you kept for so long. And not for the first time, you feel guilt wash over you for how you added to his existing turmoil.

But still, you’re left wondering about your place in his life now that the hunter has arrived. 

The pages turn one after another as the two of you fall back into old routines, nurturing the friendship and camaraderie you built over the past year. But not everything stays the same.

You maintain your boundaries, keeping your nightmares and worries to yourself — settling for long, lonely nights, when the alternative is setting yourself up for a painful road. 

One night, you find a rare moment of peace in the recent chaos. The two of you battle over this world’s version of Monopoly in a high-stakes, cutthroat bet to determine who will have the first taste of Luke and Kieran’s slightly… dubious creation in the kitchen.  

They had taken up a class in baking after catching you one too many times in the dead of the night, making midnight snacks. A fact which warmed your heart, at first, until you realized that neither twin has ever touched a stove in their lives. The clanging of pots and shouts coming from the kitchen only serve to fill you with dread. 

You try your best, but eventually resign yourself to your fate. You know a lost cause when you see it. You didn’t exactly expect death by food poisoning, but when you think about it, it wasn’t a bad way to go.

“Can’t you let this poor salaryman pass through? Just this once?” You pout on the second hour of playing this stupid board game, putting on your best puppy eyes as you implore him to pity your little player.

“That wouldn’t be fair to you, sweetie.” He smiles as you begrudgingly hand over the play money for landing on his property.

His attention is focused solely on you, a rarity since the hunter’s arrival. But even with the scarce time you’ve spent together, you can’t pretend not to have noticed the growing bags under his eyes, the constant furrow in his brow. He’s handled the chaos in the N109 Zone with the stride of a man who knows his word is law; but at the expense of his own health and rest.

In perfect timing, the game ends just as the twins exit the kitchen, dressed in matching aprons and holding a plate of mini strawberry shortcakes. You end up losing, as expected, but Sylus is a good sport — taking a bite right alongside you. 

It’s… not bad at all, especially for a beginner. A little wonky and undercooked in the middle, the edges slightly burnt. But it’s edible. “Not bad,” You say — and immediately correct yourself, “Not that I thought it would be! But it’s good. Better than my first go at it, at least.” You leave out the age you were when you first touched an oven — all worth it to see their eyes shining from your praise.

”Awe, thanks, Miss Secretary! It was all in a day’s work,” Luke grins as he fixes his crooked apron. 

Of course, Sylus is Sylus. Eliciting his praise is like pulling out teeth. “It’s… acceptable, I’ll admit,” He says with a satisfied hum. 

Still, it’s enough for the twins to celebrate with a high five, “Hell yeah!”

The four of you clear half the tray, before bidding the twins good night, the two  suddenly tired from the sugar crash. “Amateurs,” You tease. They probably kept taste-testing the ingredients.

“I hadn't expected baking to become such an… outlet of energy for them.” Sylus comments, stealing a strawberry from your piece. You retaliate by getting a scoop of his whipped cream. 

“Well, most people I know started baking as some sort of distraction or stress relief,” You eat a forkful of cake and nod in approval. Every storm in your life has been followed by the creation of more pastries than you could possibly eat. “If it distracts them from the pranks, then I wholeheartedly approve!” You cheerily stake your fork into the air.

“Knowing the twins, they’ll just find a way to incorporate it,” He eyes the kitchen doors skeptically, not wanting their mischief to bleed into the food they eat.

With all the sugar you just consumed, it was clear you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. “Wanna clear this batch with me? Before they go and stock the fridge with the rest of their projects.”

“I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check on that,” He says as he puts on his blazer again, standing up from the dining table.

“Hm? But there wasn’t anything on the calendar, last I checked. Did I miss —”

You’ve already brought out your phone to view the shared calendar when he explains, “I’ll be meeting with the hunter regarding a little… deal, that she’s brokered.” He leans down to match your height and ruffles your hair. “Don’t worry, Miss Secretary. Your schedule’s still intact.”

You roll your eyes, trying to muster a smile as you remind him, “Be nice.”

He raises an eyebrow, “When am I not?” Tch. When is he ever? 

Soon, you settle in the silence of an empty kitchen — and the thought of more cake doesn’t sound so appealing anymore. It’s never easy hearing of the two spending time together, much less seeing them in the penthouse everyday. But you’d rather have a friendship with Sylus than nothing at all. And you can only hope that with time, one day, it won’t hurt at all anymore. 

For a brief period of time, you have hope of that possibility. You think if you hold these boundaries in place and protect your friendship, things might just return to normal. Even if it means the end to anything more.  

That is, until the arrival of the auction.

The Solon Hotel celebrates its 15th annual auction, a Myriad of Nights. The crinkled invitation has been pinned to your corkboard for months, a dreaded reminder of all the preparations you needed to make.

The event has kept you on your toes; dutifully studying the list of guests, keeping an eye on keen bidders and Onychinus rivals. This auction is one of the N109 Zone’s most important events of the year, with the grossly rich and the violently powerful alike having a stake in this auction.

One week before the auction, Sylus strolls into the office, a sly smile plastered on his face, “I come bearing good news.”

You roll out your chair to face him. Without missing a beat, you ask, “A raise? World peace? Luke and Kieran outgrowing their terrible twos?”

“I'm not a miracle worker,” He smirks at that last one. “No, I've come to tell you that you’ve been granted a night off on the 17th.” 

“The 17th?” You question — and he amusedly spins your chair before striding over to his desk, ready to start the work day. But you’re left dazed, stopping the wheel as you pull up the shared digital calendar, confirming your suspicions. “But that’s the night of the auction.”

“Miss Hunter will be covering for you.”

“Oh?” Your face falls in an obvious dismay you can’t hide. 

The auction. Like many things from the story that have become hazy over time, the auction had slipped your mind. With how far back preparations had started, you completely overlooked its connection with the hunter’s arrival.

“She has her own agenda for the night,” He continues, “One that promises bloodshed. So, I want you to rest easy for the night. Take a well deserved break.”

By all accounts, you should be glad. You can’t blame him for making this decision, as you vocally detest going to these events. It’s easily the least enjoyable part of your job. But even with the foreknowledge you had, the thought of her taking your place weighs like a heavy brick in your stomach.

He realizes you’re not exactly pleased. “You can still come if you’d like to, of course,” He’s quick to assure you. “I thought you might enjoy the night off since you despise dealing with these affairs. I didn’t take you for being such a workaholic,” He chuckles affectionately, motioning to ruffle your hair — but you pull away, a little too abruptly.

You see his face fall, and you quickly brush it off and pretend to be unaffected, “Ah, ah, ah — no can do, slave driver!” You dramatically make a letter X with your arms. “You can’t take away a day off once you’ve given it.”

He rolls his eyes, but the concern doesn’t leave his face as he tries to coax you into opening up, eyes filled with a quiet honesty, “There’s no need to pretend like you’re not bothered by this. I know you’ve worked hard for this event.”

“Sylus, you don’t need to worry about me. You have bigger fish to fry. Besides, why would I be bothered by a day off?” You try to play it off. 

He sighs, accepting that you’re not going to talk about this any further. “Well, you know that there’s no one who can do your job better, right?” He places a hand on your shoulder, “I just don’t want you getting caught in the trouble that’s bound to ensue.”

You muster a smile, “Of course. After all, what would you do without your dearest secretary?”

He smirks, mind flashing to a night that now feels further than the sun. “Descend into chaos, no doubt.”

As though you were a scorned lover, you watch them from the mezzanine of the penthouse, dressed in your frilly pajamas and sipping a hot mug of tea as they leave dressed to the nines. The criminal and the hunter, two souls cut from the same cloth.

As much as it hurts you to stay behind, there was no way you would be able to stomach the picture perfect image of them together.

“Ready?” He offers his arm with the mannerisms of a perfect escort.

“It's showtime.”

“You lovebirds leaving without me?” You can’t help but be a little dramatic and interrupt their moment — though, Sylus definitely sensed your presence long before they entered. “Could’ve saved me a dance, at least.”

The hunter’s face scrunches in disdain at the mention of lovebirds, but she quickly recovers. “Oh, I think there’ll be more than just dancing, Miss Secretary,” She cheekily lifts the slit of her dress, showing a peek of the pistol strapped to her thigh. 

Despite already knowing they’ll have a safe return, your brows knit in worry, “Stay safe out there, you two.”

“You know we can’t promise that — but we’ll make a good effort,” Sylus smirks at you, a hint of concern in his eyes at the idea of leaving you behind.

You nod, a silent way of saying you’ll be okay. You wave goodbye and the hunter returns it eagerly, having warmed up to you in the past week. But the concerned, knowing look never leaves Sylus's face until they depart. 

The elevator doors slide shut, and it feels like a coffin closing over your heart. 

You laugh at how dramatic you’re being as you hold back a slight tear. It’s just an auction, you keep telling yourself. But it’s not the auction, isn’t it? It was seeing her take your place, and knowing this won’t be the last time.

You pick yourself back up, resolving to make the most of your night off. You make yourself comfortable in the living room, blanket and couch all to yourself, a movie running as background noise as you try to distract yourself with all sorts of hobbies. But you find yourself listless, unable to keep your mind focused on one thing.

The movie ends, and it becomes quiet.

With Sylus gone and the twins on a mission, the silence becomes all consuming. You leave a light on for when they return, trekking through opulent hallways until you reach your room, where once again, you stare into the city skyline stretching out into the distance. 

There’s rarely ever an opportunity to be alone in the Onychinus base. But when you are, it never ends well. You used to be able to appreciate solitude in your old world, but maybe you’ve become a little spoiled here, in receiving the constant companionship you had once lived without as a student living away from home. 

Here, solitude is when the lines between your dreams and reality begin to blur. Hours dazed in the possibilities of the past, the possibilities of a world where you had stayed. Graduated, diploma in hand as your family stands proudly at your side. Starting your career, devoting your passion to the field you love.

In comparison, this place feels like a lovely yet imprisoning dream. You’re fascinated by the wonders of the world you live in now, but each day that passes is a reminder of your place — or rather, lack thereof — in this world. A reminder of losses beyond comprehension. The loss of chance. The loss of possibility. No opportunity for you to grow, no winding path to change and evolve. And you ask yourself: are you even living?

This world feels like dreaming in a far-too-long nap. And not for the first time, you want to wake up from it.

It's currently March, the last of the winter chill before the snow melts, marking more than a year since your arrival. You feel like a broken record, looping back to the same hurts in an endless loop of grief; your doomed love, severed home, rootless soul. You can no longer fool yourself into thinking you can continue like this. You can no longer pretend to have a reason to stay.

You need to spare yourself from this grief, before it consumes you. 

—————————————————————

The auction reaches a chaotic conclusion, one that is whispered about through the N109 Zone for weeks after. You feel the ripples of their actions even from the safety of your office. Luke and Kieran are sent to clean house at The Nest. Meanwhile, you’re swamped with associates from Onychinus’s complex web of loyalties, scrambling to reclaim their spot in Sylus's good graces in light of the recent power struggle. 

Eventually, the dust settles. The pages of the calendar turn as the snow melts and warmth pours into the Onychinus base. And alongside the sunshine is Miss Hunter, whose presence becomes a permanent fixture in the penthouse.

It has only been a year since your arrival in this world, but your life has been completely upended, you think. From being a broke, burned out college student, to a tired secretary and mother of three. 

Who were those three children, one may ask?

“Miss Secretary!” You poke your head out to see what the fuss was all about, hearing the twins snickering not too far away. The hunter stomps her way to your room, face cringed and seething in disgust. “Luke and Kieran gave me a cookie filled with toothpaste!”

“Ah — see, your first mistake there was trusting anything they gave you.”

Luke and Kieran warmed up extremely quickly to the hunter, as they did in the story. They enjoyed her presence around the base, but you couldn’t tell if it was more for her personality or the fact they had a new target for their trickery. A part of you was relieved; it meant you were no longer on their roster of victims (not that they particularly like pranking you, as you stare them down in disappointment each time). But their determination to mess with the hunter was going to send you into an early grave. 

“I didn't even know they could feed themselves, let alone bake,” She pouted, crossing her arms. “In fact, they told me you made them!”

Ah. “Well… there may be some truth to that…” Your voice descends in volume to hide your guilt, but the hunter manages to hear quite clearly. 

“You knew about it, and you didn’t tell me?” She gasps, face contorting into mock betrayal. “I can't believe you had it in you to be this… deceitful!”

In your defense, they had only asked you for baking lessons on how to make a cookie sandwich. You had no part in the actual crime. (Though, you may have turned a blind eye at them squeezing toothpaste in the frosting bag. Your patience can only go so far.)

As penance and apology, you promise to bake her actual, edible cookies in return for the monstrosity she just ingested, when you suddenly have a stroke of genius. “I wonder if they have any left.” Your face contorts into a shit-eating grin, “Don’t you think Sylus would appreciate a sweet treat right about now?”

The two of you cackle and rope the twins into it, sending Miss Hunter as the messenger. (He sees right through your ploy, but still takes a bite because she’s the one offering.)

So maybe you’re not as mature as you preach to be. However, your headaches aren’t exclusive to the humans in the penthouse. 

Mephisto's permanent return to the base was a spark of joy in the bleak few months you’ve had, as he’s released from the duty of monitoring the hunter 24/7. It surprised you how much you missed the crow, realizing you’d taken his presence as one of your constant companions for granted.

The first week after his return, he sticks to your side like glue. Displeased at the hunter’s continued presence, continuing to report about her to you. Each time he catches her with Sylus he goes to show you the footage — almost like a son tattling on his father’s misdeeds. It’s a sweet gesture; clearly he’s smarter than given credit for, enough to decipher why you’ve been so downtrodden in the recent weeks. But as much as you appreciate his concern, you’re also not a masochist.

“What is it, Mephie?” You groan, abruptly woken after three grueling hours of trying to fall asleep. You would have thrown hands had you not discovered Mephisto, flapping his wings urgently.

He pecks at your cheek, showing you a hologram of Sylus and the hunter in his room, shoulders pressed together in a close proximity you were not prepared to see. “What, you want me to do something about it?” He flaps his wings in earnest, and you promptly turn around to bury your head in the pillow.

“It's none of my business!” You stubbornly burrow yourself under the blanket as he continues to squawk, “I don't want to know about the time they spend together, okay? It’s just rubbing salt into the wound.” You groggily explain, voice muffled by the pillow.

You didn’t need Mephisto to report on them — you already knew Sylus spent all his free time with her. As recalling her memories was a long shot, he turned his efforts to slowly build up their relationship again. What were once free slots in his calendar are suddenly blocked with the simple notes of ‘Miss Hunter.’ Your work dynamic has never been more out of sync, with his adjustments to the hunter’s daytime schedule after you had originally adjusted to his nights. Gone are the nights you could find him downstairs, spending the night chatting away your fears. Now, all you find are the lights turned off and a motorcycle gone from the garage.

Your voice must have taken a sad turn as the crow whimpers, nuzzling his beak into your neck to comfort you, almost like an apology. “It's okay, I know you just wanted to help.”

You let him roost on your bedside drawers, watching as he mechanically shuts down to rest. Mephisto's presence usually helps you fall asleep but tonight, you sigh as you resign yourself to a night of overthinking.

For a while, you thought that Mephie’s grudge against the hunter was one-sided. A rebellious phase, like a son’s poor reaction to his father’s new partner. So imagine your surprise when you realized she returned the sentiment.

You’re knitting on the couch, nodding along and reacting accordingly to Mephie’s squawks and accusatory pointing of his wings to the disgruntled hunter across the room.  

“She said that? Oh, I’m so sorry you had to hear that…” You dramatically cater to the crow’s concerns, “I'll talk to her for you, don’t you worry.”

“Sylus should’ve fed him to the wolves,” The hunter pokes her tongue out at the crow, who squawks in horror. “Of all the adorable, fluffy, non-feathered pets he could’ve had —”

“Ah, ah, he’s not a pet,” You correct her to appease the bird who looks as if steam is about to leave his butt. “He’s the best reconnaissance agent we have at Onychinus. Aren’t you, Mephie?” You coo at him and he flaps his wings in agreement. 

But of all the changes the hunter’s arrival brought to your life, the most unexpected development was your friendship with her.

In hindsight, it was no surprise. She may be a hunter — cutthroat and fearless, storming into the N109 Zone, wreaking havoc in the city’s most powerful crime syndicate — but you find there’s a certain bond between all freshly graduated college students. A little burned out, a little lost in life. Your similarities run deeper than your appearances, finding common ground in interests and life experiences despite having come from two different worlds.

She turns to you as a refuge within Onychinus, and in the process, she becomes yours. 

Although you loved your newfound family, a year spent with only them had perhaps led you to become a little stir crazy. You almost forgot how it was to interact with normal people your age, as your current situation and job didn’t leave you with a lot of room to feel carefree. But the hunter steps in as a breath of fresh air, taking you along on her various escapades.

“What, leaving without me?” Sylus asks with a touch of playful offense, when the hunter arrives at the Onychinus headquarters — not for him, but for you, to his comical surprise. You can see the silent question in his eyes as they flit between the two of you, and you shrug.

“Yes, now go shoo,” The hunter flicks her wrist, motioning for him to leave as she grins and slings an arm over your shoulder. “It's just me and Miss Secretary today.” 

This had all began when the hunter had been rambling about Kitty Cards, and you had stupidly made the off-hand comment, “Oh yeah, I’ve never played that before.” 

It wasn’t a lie; the real life edition of the game would be a vastly different experience to the virtual one. But the appalled look on her face sent waves of regret coursing through you, as she immediately booked a session at her favorite cat cafe.

Of course, Sylus still manages to pull one on you as you’re promptly greeted by two bodyguards from the pool of new initiates.

Your jaw drops as you turn to him, “Excuse me, do you not trust me to go out on my own?” 

“It's not you that I don't trust,” His gaze drifts over to the hunter, who glares at him in offense. “Our dear hunter, on the other hand, has a talent for finding trouble.” 

The hunter in question scoffs, “Well, why else do you think I keep you around?” She tilts her head cheekily at him, as he rolls his eyes, breathing an affectionate sigh.

Like always, it’s a casual punch to the gut. 

His gaze travels to you (almost knowing, you think) but you brush it aside and keep the neutral expression on your face. “Let’s wrap it up, you two.” You walk forward, lightly shoving your shoulder against Sylus’s, interrupting their moment. A rare moment of pettiness from you, but you think you’re entitled to it every now and then. “Shall we go? I’d like to see the Linkon sun before nightfall.”

You spend the day in Linkon where she crushes your ass repeatedly, and you’re not even offended. You were only here to see the cats, after all. It’s the perfect duo; she’s way too competitive and you don’t care about winning at all — the best of both worlds as you share the winnings, anyway, at the badge counter.

In your small world consisting of your newfound family at Onychinus, you appreciate the new friend you’ve made. An appreciation that surpasses any of the petty jealousy you may have. Time spent with the hunter means the opportunity to be a little less mature, to be silly in a way you haven’t been in a long time. You appreciate the brief reprieve, as this world has forced you to remain at 100% — keeping you at constant guard in the wake of your transmigration. 

Alongside kitty cards, she introduces you to the pop culture in this world, something you were never given a glimpse of in the game. One afternoon, you two decide to steal a set of speakers from Sylus’s study, putting on a playlist she made after learning how little you knew of mainstream music.

You’re sitting on the floor of your room, surrounded by papers as she switches the song to a soft acoustic track. “I like this one,” you comment, making a mental note to add the artist to your own playlist. 

“You don’t know them? Huh, I guess I shouldn't be surprised since you didn’t know any of the fifteen others before this…” You laugh awkwardly as she sends you the link, murmuring a soft thanks. “Did you grow up under a rock?”

“Something like that. I grew up really far from Linkon, it’s like an entirely different world there.” It wasn’t a lie. 

She never questions you further than that, to your relief. “You know, three months ago I wouldn't have dared to step into sylus’s study unless my life was at stake,” The hunter reminisces, sprawled out on your bed. “But here we are, committing casual theft.”

“You’ll learn over time he’s not as scary as he thinks he is. Especially when it comes to you. You could — I don’t know, spill your coffee on his desk, or stage a revolt against him in Onychinus, and he wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

She rolls her eyes, but you can see the faint blush coating her cheeks. “You’re exaggerating. Honestly, I was scared shitless when I first met him. Don’t tell him that,” She stares you down, and you motion to zip your mouth closed. “But I guess he’s not that bad, the more I get to know him…” 

You smile, partly out of affection and partly out of bitterness. The hunter is so obviously smitten, and you know it’s only a matter of time before she opens her heart to him.

By all means, you should be happy for them. You should be happy that your dearest friend in this world is finally getting the love and happiness he desires, that he deserves. You promised to back out of this unspoken race and let the story continue as intended — but here and now, fiddling with the beautiful necklace given to you many moons ago, you realize you have a habit of clutching onto things for far too long.

Long after the hunter leaves, you shuffle papers and calendars around to an unnecessary degree of perfection, lingering on these thoughts. Your friends, your family, your dreams, had made up the beautiful, imperfect mess that was your life. But here, beyond the walls of this place, the sad reality was there was little reason for you to stay. Little reason for you to live.

And you wonder, when she finally takes the place you hold in Sylus’s life, in Onychinus — what will be left for you in this world? 

—————————————————————

Early April showers take over the dark skies of the N109 Zone, a soft drizzle pattering against the windows of Sylus’s main office. It's a slow day, spring taking its course as Onychinus returns to a new normal with the hunter.

Stoic and focused he may seem, but Sylus’s mind is anywhere but work, drifting to the hunter and their blossoming relationship. He’s taken any and all opportunities to spend time with her. His schedule — once filled with free nights and weekends spent cozily in the penthouse — are booked back to back in any free moment he and the hunter can spare. His text messages, typically relegated to his work, become full of silly little moments as she continues to take a larger place in his life.

It’s what he wanted, isn’t it? 

So why does he feel his heart fall every time he sees the distance that’s grown between you two?

It's the 17th of April, and despite the little time you’ve spent together, he knows you already have something planned for his birthday. You haven’t breathed a word about it, but he knows that you would refuse to let it go uncelebrated, if the twins’ hushed scheming around him isn’t enough to go by.

He rests his chin on his hand, scrutinizing you, as if he could read your mind if he tried hard enough. You type away on your computer like a machine, so focused that it takes an awfully time before your eyes drift over to him, a bit alarmed at the intensity of his staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason at all,” He barely holds back the smirk threatening to curl at his lips. 

He can practically see the thoughts running through your head. Is he mad? Is he planning something? Can he read my mind? Until you finally look away with a resigned sigh. 

He chuckles under his breath, thinking he’s ready for whatever you have planned, when the door swings open, revealing the hunter — who was supposedly busy with work today — on a surprise visit.

“Knock knock!” She raps her knuckles against the open door, “Good evening, Miss Secretary! Or — good morning, I guess, for the both of you?”

“Did I say you could come in?” Sylus asks with his typical drawled snark.

She scoffs, throwing a smile at you before occupying his visitor’s chair, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable. “Is that any way to greet your favorite hunter, who’s so kindly come to you since you’ve been busy all week?”

He narrows his eyes, “You want something from me.” A statement, not a question. 

She sticks her tongue out at him, having clocked her immediately before she even got a word in. “A little birdie may have told me that you own an RX–116 —”

“You’re not riding it.” The answer comes automatically, eyes mechanically returning to the paperwork he’d been previously neglecting. 

“You haven’t even let me explain why…!”

“Alright, tell me. Why should I let you take Treasure — my most cherished motorcycle — out on a reckless joyride into the N109 Zone?” He crosses his arms, patiently waiting for her answer.

“Because you’re a fun–loving soul at heart, who values the happiness of his friends?” Her tone is light, fingers crossed, only to receive his deadpan stare. She huffs, “Oh, come on. I promise I'll be careful. What if you drive? If Miss Secretary can survive it, I definitely could!”

His eyes drift over to you, and you barely glance up from your screen, deigning him with a shrug. “Sorry, she asked.” He continues to stare intently at you, a silent plea he hopes you’d understand if only you’d just look up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…No meetings? Deadlines? Overdue paperwork? Tell me what’s on my schedule today.”

You grant him an almost knowing smile, rolling your eyes. “Since when have you cared about paperwork?” Still, you flick through the digital calendar, lazily pretending to indulge his request. “No, there’s nothing keeping you. You’re free from the clutches of work. For today,” You emphasize that last part as a subtle threat.

Still, he continues to look at you skeptically — it’s almost like he wants you to hand him more work. “I mean it, go have fun. Take a break. Since when did you care so much about skipping work?” He can almost hear you muttering, “The privileges of being a rich bastard…” as you breathe a tired sigh. 

It's true that Sylus's position affords him the privilege of passing up on the workday for his whims. Whether it be upgrading Mephisto, waiting on online auctions for vintage records, or in this case, a day out with the hunter.

It unnerves him, this side of you. Despite the stark gap in power between you, you’ve never failed to scold and banter with him, thumping him on the head more than a few times after he’d neglected the calendar. But lately, you’ve been almost… complacent with him, as if you’ve accepted something inevitable.

It's a jarring realization when he thinks about how little time he’s spent with you since the hunter’s return. Especially considering how close you had grown, how you’d spent almost every free moment with him before. A part of him knows that for one reason or another, you’ve kept your distance, and he hates it — but at the same time, the hunter was slowly opening her heart to him.

But were you really going to let him go this easily, on the eve of his birthday, when you clearly had something planned already? It was moments like these that made him wish for things to return to normal. (That made him wish to see the side of you that cared.)

“Fine,” He gives into the pleading eyes of the hunter, who cheers as he tosses her the keys. “Meet me in the garage. Careful not to go too wild, kitten.”

He shakes his head as she skips out of the room, catching one last look at you before muttering, “You two will be the death of me…” He leaves the office without looking back. 

The evening is spent racing through the outskirts of the N109 Zone, wind and rain rushing past them as Sylus takes the opportunity to show off the motor’s maximum speed. She screams, and it echoes through the empty roads. Joyously carefree, still carrying the same fire and spirit she once held in their previous lives.

But, not everything was the same. The hunter’s life was by no means easy, but she grew up in a much kinder world than the sorceress, untouched by the horrors that he and her previous iteration were irrevocably changed by. Does he even want her to remember? Would it still be love if he forced her to relive those horrors? 

His devotion to the sorceress has always been overwhelming, all-consuming. But in this life, he does not feel the same intense love, but more so a quiet affection, a desire to protect. And so, he’d rather the hunter live in peace. Never knowing the horrors of their past, even if it means that he’ll be forgotten, as well.

She urges him, “Go faster!” and he obliges with a smirk, revving up the engine to go at maximum speed. She cackles, letting go of his waist and letting her arms caress the midnight breeze. He can’t help but breathe an affectionate sigh — her dauntless, the opposite to your wariness on this very motorcycle. 

Miss Secretary. His thoughts have once again spiralled back to you, a habit that’s slipped out of his control. He's always been unwavering in his desires, but your arrival had upended his world and the foundations of what he knew about himself. And now, he no longer knows where his heart lies.

He knows it’s not fair to either of you. He feels guilty for the hunter’s oblivious nature — clueless to what almost was (what could still be) between you and him. And for you, you have done your utmost best to keep the boundaries he wasn’t strong enough to. 

He's a shameless man who’s never been afraid to take and take. But every time he sees the pain that his indecision — his choice — has caused you, he can’t help but tread carefully, wary of hurting you any more than he already has.

The clock strikes twelve, marking the beginning of April 18th. They return to a base shrouded in darkness, where they stumble around for the lights, only to be greeted by a garishly decorated living room and the twins dressed in red and black. 

“Happy birthday, boss!” The twins blow party poppers as he walks into the living room, “Didn’t expect this, did ‘ya?”

He’d been so conflicted at leaving before his birthday, when little did he know, it was all an elaborate ruse to distract him while you and the twins decorated.

“…It seems I've been deceived.” This is the first time you have ever left him truly dumbfounded.

“Surprise!” The hunter slaps him on the back, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Did you really think I was bugging you for a ride out for nothing?”

“Well, not nothing, considering you commandeered the vehicle halfway through.” She swats at him playfully in response. 

His eyes search for you, and just in time, you carefully step out of the kitchen, holding a two-tiered cake with a candle lit atop. What ensues is an off-tune rendition of happy birthday, as you step closer, careful not to extinguish the flames, “Make a wish, Sylus.” You smile. 

Since the tragic end to his life as a dragon, he’s only ever had one wish. But this year, he hesitates.

For the first time, he wishes for something else. Something new and precious. 

The flames dance in the wind before being snuffed with a single breath, smoke trailing with the promises of what’s to come.

Once again, you‘ve planned an elaborate celebration, just as you did the previous year. Something simple here at the base, but still catering to his preferences. From the tasteful red, black, and gold decorations, his favorite meals laid out on the dining table, and a pile of presents wrapped in a mishmash of patterns and ribbons.

When he takes the first bite of the cake, he lets out a hum of satisfaction, immediately noticing the gleam in the twins’ eyes.

“What, did you like it?” You smile at him cheekily, chewing through your own bite. “Luke and Kieran baked it, red velvet cheesecake with a bourbon coating.” 

The hunter scowls, still not over their previous attack on her taste buds. “Oh, so Sylus gets a fancy, artisanal cake and I get toothpaste cookies?”

Kieran grins, lightly punching her shoulder, “Don’t worry, Miss Hunter. Just wait til’ it’s your birthday.”

”Yeah! We’re more than ready to top the last one," Luke chimes in, a sinister promise no one wants to hear.

Sylus's gaze follows the hunter throughout the night. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to closure, he thinks, seeing her slot into his close circle (family) like a perfect puzzle piece, celebrating a day that never mattered to him until they made it matter. In their previous life, they had never been afforded the time or peace to celebrate these mundane milestones.

But despite the jovial atmosphere, his eyes can’t stray from your strange mood. You do a good job of pretending that everything is alright, going about the motions and matching the merry of the occasion. But though you may be able to fool others, you can’t fool him. After the party has come to an end, he doesn’t leave your side — determined to know what’s been bothering you. 

“Hey, no cleaning for the birthday celebrant!” You lightly shoo him away with the broom as he tries to take over cleaning the living room.

“Oh? I say the birthday celebrant gets to decide that for himself,” He easily swipes the broom from your hands, and you huff, relegated to picking up the wrapping paper strewn about the floor.

“Stubborn bastard,” You mutter under your breath. 

“A little louder, dear. I couldn't hear you.” You scowl at him and he laughs, “I can't let you do all the work, no? What kind of boss would I be, then? Tsk, if only you had just left it to the cleaners like I told you to.”

Still, you resolve to finish cleaning. It’s a bit comical seeing him with a broom and dustpan, and on his birthday, of all days. Still, you assert that it would be too rude to leave all this work for the cleaners’ shift come morning. With the two of you working at it, by the time the hour’s up you wouldn’t have been able to tell a celebration occurred.

“Let's go to the rooftop,” Sylus suggests, after taking out the trash. “I feel like taking a breath of fresh air.”

The two of you walk up the familiar staircase to the rooftop, the highest point in the N109 Zone, where you’ve spent many nights deprived of sleep and spilling your deepest fears and nightmares. 

“Watch your head.”

“What are you— ow!” You bump your head on a new exit sign that hadn’t been there the last time you came.

He laughs breathily, rubbing your forehead with his thumb after he perfectly ducks under the sign. “I did warn you.” 

“It feels like forever since we’ve been up here.”

“It's also been quite a while since I’ve seen you.”

You laugh shakily, “What are you talking about? We’re in the office every day…”

“Don’t act like you don’t understand, it’s unbecoming of your intelligence,” He brushes a stray hair from your face.

“Well, what can I say? We’ve all been so busy lately… But you seem happy, though.” He remains silent, so you continue, “You’ve waited so long to reunite with her. I've never believed in soulmates or anything like that, but for you two, I just might. I’m happy for you,” A timid smile paints your face, and he can’t tell if it’s out of bitterness or soft appreciation. 

He doesn’t know how to feel, receiving your approval — feigned as it may be. “If that's so, do you believe it for yourself?” You look at him strangely. “Do you think you could have a soulmate?”

The question seems to weigh heavily on your mind as you look away, dangling your feet aimlessly, “Maybe so… But I like to think that love is a choice. Something that’s earned, built up over time. That's the kind of love that I want, at least.”

His heart has been conflicted for so long — but all of a sudden, you feel unreachable, slipping from his grasp into a territory uncharted. (All of a sudden, he wants to give you everything you wish for.)

“It's been a while since we’ve talked like this. It’s nice being able to spend time with you again.” You stand up, brushing non-existent dirt off your thighs. “But I better head to bed.” 

It’s a lie, you both know you’ll spend the night tossing and turning into the hours of the night; so he tries to push at the walls you’ve put up. “Come on, dear. It's my birthday. Just grace me with your presence for a few more minutes…”

He tries not to sound desperate, but all he wants to do is reverse time, to return to a period where you weren’t wary of spending time with him. He'd been spoiled by the affection and friendship you once offered so freely, and now he couldn’t bear this distance you stubbornly held in place. 

He reaches to grab your hand, but you pull yours away. 

You hesitate before turning around, “I'm sorry, Sylus. But maybe another night.” Your voice is soft as you say good night, his eyes stuck on the image of you walking further away until you disappear from sight. 

He wants so badly to pull you back, yearns to grab your hand once again, to feel the warmth of your palm against his. But he knows he has no right to. The presence of the hunter a few doors over says it all, says his choice. He can’t bear to hurt you any more than he already has. But at the same time, he can’t bear to lose you.

So instead, he watches you walk away, knowing that he’s chosen the hunter, his soulmate. But a part of his heart continues to yell at him, telling him he’s making a grave mistake. 

—————————————————————

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the overstimulating atmosphere of the underground ring. The flashing lights, the all-consuming noise in the hours before a match starts. It's been months since you’ve been here, but it’s clear that anticipation runs high in the crowds, with this being Sylus's first game since last year’s loss. 

You sniffle, holding back a sneeze as you approach the ring with a bouquet of flowers, waiting patiently for Sylus to break from his pre-game focus as the coach gives him a last minute pep talk.

His eyes eventually drift over to you as he takes a sip of water, “Oh? Look who showed up." He smirks at you, arms leaning against the barrier, “And here I thought you’d be a no-show after last year’s disappointment.”

“What can I say? It’s a crime to pass up on an easy bet.” 

“I'm touched by your faith in me,” Unlike his words, his tone is deadpan.  

You mockingly scoff, “Who said I placed my bets on you?” You say this, but both of you know who you’re rooting for. “I just thought I might as well wish you good luck, considering I used my PTO on this.”

“Trust me, dear.” His smirk is one of confidence, as he leans past the barrier, face inching towards yours. “By the end of the night, there’ll be a new champion reigning this ring.”

A sudden screech comes from behind — some sort of ongoing venue prep — and your face scrunches up, another headache coursing through you. 

“Are you okay?” His brows furrow as he calls your name, concerned at the deep circles under your eyes, the pale sheen to your face. “Maybe you should sit down. You don’t look well.”

“I'll be fine,” You wave him off, “It’s just a headache. I can champ through it.” 

“But is it wise for you to stand in these crowds?” He removes his glove, pressing a hand against your forehead. “Go sit down in the locker room, they’ll be airing the match inside. I don't need you in the stands to know you’re supporting me.” 

The increasing dizziness you feel is the only reason why you nod, picking up your things and doing as told without so much as a fight. His eyes follow your sluggish form until you make it past his sight, settling inside the rundown locker room to watch alongside other competitors and coaches.

Even though you’ve been continuously sneezing and feel like knocking out, you’re on your toes the entire match, even from the low quality screen delegated to the locker room. The crowd is just as enthusiastic, roaring for his revenge match. You know nothing about boxing, but even you can tell from the first few minutes alone that he’s doing well, performing better than he ever was as the cheers of the crowd pound through to the walls of this secluded room. The camera shifts as he overtakes his opponent — and that’s when you see it, a glimpse of the hunter cheering at the front row. 

You already expected her presence, was anticipating to sit by her side as the both of you cheered Sylus on. But a part of you feels sick, lightheaded, progressively dizzier as the match continues. Not just because of the hunter’s arrival, or the anxiety of seeing Sylus getting socked in the face — you realize as you feel the bile rising up your throat. 

The match ends as you walk out of the bathroom, contents of your stomach flushed down the toilet. You missed the final blow, the crowning moment, the television having switched to an interview. His voice fills the room, the audio muffled and crackly, “Someone came all the way here to watch me. Said she didn’t want to see me lose.” 

You recognize that look of adoration, reserved only for the hunter. And once again, you feel your stomach lurch. 

It's a weak moment for you — you want to stay, to cheer him on as his friend and supporter (the only things you were and would ever be to him). But it was too much for you, seeing her take the place that maybe, in another life, could have been yours.

You guiltily leave the bouquet in the locker rooms, slipping away easily into the swarm of crowds leaving the venue. You pass by the ring as you make your way to the exit, seeing him at the edge of the barricade, swarmed by reporters.

In the ring, he shines like a star far out of your reach.

Was this penance for your pride? For believing you could take the spot of someone who was long destined to be by his side? The last image you see is of his arm wrapped around her waist, lips pressed to her forehead — his attention, his gravity, tethered to her. 

You leave the underground stadium guilt-free, feeling a little silly for having doubts about your departure affecting him. You realize that no matter what you do, he’ll be fine.

He has the hunter now.

—————————————————————

The moment he steps out of the ring, lights flashing and reporters crowding to get his interview — the first thing he sees is the hunter, standing front row in the bleachers, cheering him on with her fist in the air. His arm stays around her waist as they celebrate his win, answering nosy interviewers and being crowned with the champion’s ring.

He should be filled with nothing but happiness, satisfaction. But right now, all he could think of was finding you.

He fiddles with the champion’s ring, a nervous tic he’d never dare show to the naked eye as he makes his way to the locker room, where he finds an intricate bouquet of flowers and a congratulatory note, written in your familiar penmanship. 

It seems his greed had become far too overwhelming. 

Faced with all his wishes coming true, he still yearns for more. Everything he ever wanted was coming together, but none of it felt right — not with your absence creating a gaping void in a picture perfect image. 

Disheartened by your absence, the dim mood follows him as he returns to a quiet home. He carefully steps inside, your snores filling the space as he finds you sprawled on the living room couch, still dressed in your outside clothes, skin dull and face tightened in discomfort. 

He lifts you up, beginning the trek to your bedroom to let you sleep away the rest of the night, only for you to stir awake in his arms. “Sylus?” You peek at him through bleary eyes, “You’re home…”

He places the back of his hand against your forehead, “You’re burning up. Did you take any medicine before falling asleep?” 

“I'm sorry I couldn’t stay for the match…” In your drowsy state, you don’t hear his question, instead nuzzling your head into his chest. He savors the feeling of your warmth. “Did you get my flowers?”

“I did. They were a beautiful choice.”

“That's good. You deserve only the best, after all.” Your voice is a little breathy, soft and tender in ways you never reveal to him anymore — and he couldn’t help but be a little lovestruck. 

“You know just how to flatter me, don’t you?” He lays you down gently, tucking the covers over your form, as he musters the courage to follow through with his thoughts. “But since you brought me flowers, I should give something in thanks.” 

He slides the champion’s ring off his finger, delicately placing it in your palm, closing your fingers over it. “I believe this should be yours.”

“Sylus, what is this?” Your face is still unnaturally pale, but you seem more lucid now, staring at the ring with an unreadable expression on your face.

“There's only one reason I left as a champion today, and she’s standing right in front of me.” His eyes are glued intently to yours, water still streaking from his hair after the quick shower he took before leaving. “Last year’s match was a blow to my pride, I'll admit. But how could I ever stay down with you by my side?”

It’s rare for him to display his fondness on a silver platter — not painted in wit or banter, but with the clarity of an open window into his heart. But something about you wills him to take steps he never has before.

You stay silent for an unnerving amount of time, turning away from him, overwhelmed by the depth of his gaze. Your face contorts into a fractured smile, “I think we both know who you should really give this to.

He stares at the ring, refusing to take it from your outstretched hand. a strained laugh leaves his lips. He gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him once again, “You won’t even accept gifts from me, now? How much will you pull away from me before you’re satisfied?” 

“I can't accept this, and you know why.”

He knows. Just like he knows why you stray from his touch, why you avoid his gaze. He knows, but he refuses to accept it. 

“I went into this match for you. I won it for you, not the hunter.” A frantic sort of grief fills his features, imploring you to open your heart to him. “So why is it that you keep telling me to run to her? What makes you believe you’re undeserving?” 

“Because it shouldn’t be me. I just—” The words fail to form on your tongue, twisting and turning until the intention is lost. “Please, sylus. I can't do this right now.” 

“I didn't think your cowardice was stronger than our friendship.” 

You come to an abrupt still, your eyes glazing over in stifled shock. “Well, I'm sorry to have disappointed you.” 

Regret immediately courses through him as he realizes the harshness of his words, and the guardedness of your tone. He hates causing you hurt or pain, but he can no longer bear to ignore the distance that's grown between you. (But does he even have the right to confront you about it? When he knows his actions are the root cause.) 

“We can't hide from this forever, so why won’t you just talk to me?” He's just about ready to beg for you to look at him again, to talk to him again, without the inhibitions that separate you now. 

You take a deep breath, a hundred thoughts running through your mind before you settle on simple words, “Because things can’t go back to normal, and I don't know if they ever will.” You turn around, effectively ending the conversation and drawing that dreaded line. “I'd like to be alone now, please.” 

It’s not irreparable; at least, you don’t think so. But regardless of the place the hunter now holds in your life, you had crossed a turning point in your relationship, one that made it impossible to turn back. This was the price of his choice; he couldn’t have his cake and eat it, too.

Despite how much he wants to confront you, more than anything he wants to respect the boundaries you’ve set in place. And so, Sylus is left to stew in his thoughts in the living room, fiddling with the ring and wondering why he wouldn’t just give the ring to the hunter. Why he caused all of this mess. (He knows exactly why.)

The bond he had with the hunter transcended lifetimes, giving his soul a first taste of human connection and love. He grasped at the seams of that bond, holding on for dear life and desperately seeking the peace they were never afforded. But your arrival broke the monotony of his days, and in the process, treated him to that connection, that genuine acceptance and care so freely. You easily slotted into his life, and now that you were trying to walk away — he couldn’t just bear to let you go.

He may have fallen in love with the sorceress in their previous life, but now, it was time to face his current reality. 

In this world, his heart had chosen you. 

—————————————————————

You feel like you're being replaced, being pushed out of the picture you were never meant to be captured in.

For the longest time, you’ve felt the petty urge to hate the hunter. To pick out her flaws and shortcomings to make yourself feel better. But that wouldn’t be fair to her, who’s done nothing but unknowingly capture Sylus's heart. And it would only fan the flames of bitterness and hurt that were already burning inside you.

You stomp at the petty jealousy taking root in your heart — because what right do you have to feel that way? What right do you have to mourn a love that was never yours to begin with? 

You feel rather foolish. You thought you knew what his affection felt like, but it was nothing compared to seeing his devotion. You never believed in soulmates — but how could you deny the cosmic connection before your very eyes? Like a planet and its moon, they orbit each other — his harsh edges softening in her presence.

Sylus gave you hope for a future in this world. But to him, you must be just one of many, a buffer while he waits for his lover to finally come along in this life. He was someone who had never known peace, never known the warmth of love before he met her. In the grand scheme of things, what was your rust to her gold? 

These fantasies have become fatal, cutting open old wounds and deeply hidden thoughts. Never have you felt so untethered. No place where you belonged, no place to call home, no connection that was meant to be truly yours. Your world had been shrouded in static in the wake of losing your loved ones, life becoming grainy and distant in your grief. The loneliness had been dampened by new connections, by a blossoming love, but was now coming back in full force as you watch the image of how it should be, without you.

You were never meant to be here. 

(Thus, it was only right to return things to how they should be.)

—————————————————————

Thunder rolls in, casting gloomy skies over the N109 Zone. it’s one of those days where you can’t muster up the energy to do anything but curl up on the couch with a blanket, paperwork left forgotten on the coffee table, watching raindrops dart against the tall windows overlooking the city. 

The twins are similarly sprawled across the living room floor. With Sylus and Mephisto out on a mission, it’s just the three of you in the penthouse, spending the last of the spring showers working by the warmth of the fireplace, before humid summer storms take over. 

The dreary atmosphere did nothing to quell the persistent grief that weighed heavily in your chest. Not even the comforting presence of Luke and Kieran could muster a smile on your face, these days. 

Your eyelids start to flutter, the movie and the twins’ chatter becoming hazy as you drift into slumber, where once again, you dream of home.

You find yourself thinking about home much more, nowadays. You miss the sun, you miss the food, the warmth of company (the lack of doubt of your belongingness). But as always, you wake up to the cars and gunshots typical of the N109 Zone, the rain having slowed to a soft drizzle, pattering against the window. 

You spend a little while with your eyes closed, savoring the taste of home only a dream can capture, a feeling that slips through your fingers before you can truly grasp it. And once again, you wish for a clue, a hint, an answer to a way back home. 

Little did you know how soon this wish would be granted.

You stretch your arms out, coming to a slow rise from the couch, remembering the pile of paperwork that awaited you on the coffee table. You sigh as you see the other half; it seems the twins hadn’t gotten much done either, their papers getting mixed up with yours during your short nap. you take quick, mindless glances at the papers — your events and supply documentation, the twins’ mission reports — as you sort through them. 

One in particular slides out from the pile, and you pick it up, intending to place it on their side of the table — only to stop in your tracks, catching a single phrase. Dimensional travel. 

You shouldn’t be snooping. As Sylus's secretary, you’re already privy to most of the ongoings in Onychinus. You know that if something’s been kept from you, it’s for a reason. But as your mind flits over all the dead ends you’ve run into in your search to go home, you think — what’s the harm in taking a look?

Your blood stills. 

What greets you is the twins’ hasty scrawl, recounting their findings as they led a reconnaissance mission at an EVER lab on the outskirts of the N109 Zone. Test subjects who were found in public, on the brink of death. Who spoke of “other worlds.” Unfortunate individuals who were found somewhere more public, deemed a nutcase, and left vulnerable to the hands of EVER. In Kieran’s more formal penmanship are the words, “These findings are supported by the classified dimensional travel studies at Prestara University…”

And when you see the date of the mission — it’s from the previous year.

Why did no one tell you about this? 

All of you were smart enough to connect the dots. Near-death experiences, tales of other worlds. Here you were, searching on what seemed to be a fool’s errand, when the people you slept under the same roof with held the very answers you’d been so desperately seeking.

An eerie feeling settles over you (you don’t want to name it as betrayal) as you look over the papers, reading them over and over, thinking there’s no way this had been just out of reach, all these months.

On the dot, the twins return to the living room with bags of snacks in their arms, Luke with his typical cheer as Kieran stills, seeing the papers in your hand. “Miss Secretary, you’re finally awake. Do you want a snack —” 

“What is this?” You cut him off, uncharacteristically stoic as you raise up the stapled reports, still reeling from shock at the words you’ve just read. “Your mission reports… These are from a year ago. Why didn’t I know about this? 

The two worriedly look at each other in silent communication, before you ask again, fed up with the lies and secrecy. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

“Luke, she read the reports. She knows.”

“But the boss said — Fine. But don’t blame me when this ends badly.” He sighs before giving in, turning to look you in the eye. “I think it’s better if we show you. But… Please don’t be mad at the boss.” 

“No  more than you already are,” Kieran adds, and you look at him skeptically. “We know you two are fighting. It’s been torture seeing you guys mope! The boss has been burying everyone in work and you… You’ve been a shell of yourself.”

You open your mouth, ready to spout excuses, but he interrupts you. “Don’t deny it, we can see it for ourselves. Especially with the way the boss has been grovelling.” 

“Sylus has not been grovelling. He has better things to do with his time.” You roll your eyes, but they continue to stare at you in doubt, until you sigh and let up.

“Alright. so we may have had a… slight disagreement. But really, I've just been in a funk. A little homesick, and a little actually sick. That's all. But you know what will help me?” You raise up the reports once again, flipping to the research page. “Show me these case studies. Show me everything there is to know about this.” 

“Well, we tried.” Kieran lets out a tired exhale, “If knowing this will help you, then we’ll do it.”

The twins lead you into their wing of the penthouse, a territory you never dared to venture unless it was dire circumstances— which it very well feels like it is now.

“Welcome to our little abode!” Luke cheers as he swings the doors open. 

“Oh, how… charming.” 

You tiptoe around the communal living area, unable to distinguish what is a weapon for Onychinus and a personal invention they’ve made for an elaborate prank. Frankly, it’s a mess. Apparently teenage boys are the same type of disgusting in any universe, you cringe as you find a smelly article of clothing on his desk that's definitely overdue for a wash. Only the promise of answers holds back your urge to hand these kids a broom and force them to clean.

“Over here’s my desk. Go wild, I guess. I'll be in the other room if you need anything.” 

Your heart races as you’re left to your own devices, inputting the related mission code — and there it is. A wealth of information answering the questions you’ve had. 

You skim over the articles, all from the same research team, studying the phenomenon of dimensional travelers, as they’ve so aptly put it, and their possible connection to the Deepspace Tunnel.

But the most damning implication of them all, was that there was a way for you to return home. The researchers are positive they’re close to a breakthrough, they write, as they cite the commonalities between these travelers. If a close encounter with death is what brought them all here, then it only makes sense it can bring them back. 

But this is where the trail ends. The last article ends with the researchers discussing potential experimentation — the risks of being lost in the unknown boundary between worlds, ripped to shreds by the force of gravity, or better yet — just dying. With it, your hope dims. 

But it’s something. Nothing concrete, but enough to prove you weren’t crazy. Enough to have hope. Enough to try.

But the question remains… how could this have possibly slipped past you? You’ve researched every corner of info available to you in the Onychinus database. 

As Sylus's secretary, you’re granted the privileges to access almost everything in Onychinus, including the information databases which contain a wealth of information from various sources (legally and illegally obtained, many inaccessible to the public yet). And when you check the status of the articles — you see that your access has been blacklisted.

As it was, there was only one person in Onychinus with the power to do this. 

“Sylus put you up to this, didn’t he?” When your eyes turn to Luke in question, he only nods grimly in confirmation. 

“The boss asked us to keep it from you,” He almost looks like a sad puppy wagging his tail, trying to appease your increasingly irate mood. “He was only worried about what you might do if you found out about this.” 

“He should’ve worried about what I’d do if you kept this from me.” You spat bitterly, and immediately, guilt coils through you for misplacing this anger on Luke. The twins might have been in on it, but despite all their mischief, they would never have had the heart to lie to you. No, this was all Sylus's doing.

You walk away, as overwhelming waves of betrayal course through you. You don’t want to make assumptions, but there is no other possible truth. It’s almost uncharacteristic of him, you think. He's always supported whatever you wanted to do. So why would he do this now? 

Why hide the answers that would lead you back home? 

And if he hid this from you, what else could he be hiding? 

These thoughts continue to plague you into the late hours of the night. Hours of tossing and turning in the sheets, before giving up on slumber entirely. Before, you would tiptoe in the marbled halls in search of laughter and company. But things were no longer the same. Now, you lock yourself in silence, refusing to bare any more of your heart.

But there still comes some nights such as now, when you can’t stifle the dark creeping in. Like a sheep heading into the wolves’ den, you tiptoe out of your bedroom, making your way to the kitchen where you cope as you always have: by baking. 

As you pull out the ingredients, Sylus eventually comes strolling in, as if he had a sixth sense to your presence. 

“Can’t sleep again?” He asks groggily. Hair mussed and robe crumpled, it was clear he had already been in bed. His tone is careful, still tiptoeing around you after the mess of a conversation you last had after the match.

You nod tiredly, “Too much to think about.” You’re being uncharacteristically cold to him, not even turning around or looking at him in acknowledgement. But if he notices, he doesn’t show it. 

All you want is a moment alone. But already, he’s coming far too close to you — invading your space like he’s entitled to it, when all you want is to be as far away from him as possible. 

“Let me help you.” He says, grabbing the bowl from behind you and rolling a whisk in his other hand. “It'll just be like old times, don’t you think? Miss Baker, with her apprentice running the ovens.” 

You can’t help the anger simmering beneath you as you slam the cupboards closed, alarming him. Can you not get one moment of peace in this fucking household? “You know what? I think I'll just go to bed, actually.”

He lets out a breath of frustration. "Alright, it’s clear that there’s a problem here.” He grabs your hand to stop you from leaving, only for you to rip it from his grasp. He steps back, “I admit that I said some hurtful things before, and I'd like to apologize properly. But can we sit down and talk about this like civilized people?”

You know it’s wrong to lash out like this, but this betrayal had you reeling and acting out impulsively. A crash-out long in the works, tipped over by your recent revelation. “Always one to ask forgiveness rather than permission, aren’t you?”

“What?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, utterly confused. “I don't know why you continually insist on shutting me out — but I assure you, nothing productive will come out of this.” 

A bitter laugh escapes you, “Well, I don’t know why you insist on lying to me. But I'm not the one asking questions here.”

“What are you talking about?” His blood runs cold, gaze steely as he begins to tread carefully through this volley of words. 

“Did you think I'd never find out about the information you hid from me? That you ordered Luke and Kieran to lie to me about? How much have you hidden from me?” You seethe, the words spilling out of you like an overflowing kettle. 

His silence says it all. 

“Gosh, I guess it figures.” You don’t know whether to laugh in irony or cry in defeat. “The one person I trusted the most turned out to be a lying bastard… I don't know why I expected any better from you.” 

Sometimes you forget the person Sylus truly is, beyond the softness he’s shown to you in confidence. He may be flowing with unspoken affection for those he cares for, but in the end, he was still a criminal. The leader of the world’s most notorious crime syndicate, gifted in the art of deceit.  

But despite this, Sylus was still the person who took you in when you had nowhere else to go. The one person you trusted more than anyone in this world. Although his blossoming relationship with the hunter sprouted thorns over your friendship, you thought that you’d at least have total honesty. 

But your expectations crumble into disappointment. 

Sylus treats this exchange flippantly, at first, trying to stave off a fight he doesn’t want to have. But you’re so frustrated, you can’t even look him in the eye. Though his face gives away nothing, a storm was brewing inside as the consequences of his actions dawned on him.

And so, he decides to tell you the truth. 

He whispers your name carefully, like an apology in itself. “I'm sorry I lied to you. It was never my intention to deceive you, or to hold you back from finding answers — but I know I've hurt you nonetheless. But please, let’s not fight about this. Let me explain myself, first.”

You turn to him, waiting for an answer that will resolve the hurt in your heart. 

He doesn't know where to begin, so he starts with an explanation. 

When you first arrived, Sylus had done the research. Tried to find a way to send you — this anomaly who’d landed in his backyard — back to where she belonged. But all he could find were dead ends. As far as he knew, there was no way to send you back. You, this stranger, who he wanted out of his life. (Oh, how the thought hurts him now.)

Almost a year later, when the dimensional travel research came in — he immediately marked it as classified. A spur of the moment decision, where he blocked off your access to these files in fear of you discovering them. He excuses it as the danger, the potential recklessness that might possess you in the face of this revelation.

But the truth was: you were no longer just a stranger, you were Miss Secretary. A core part of his life, regardless of the short time you’d been here. Maybe if he was less in-deep, if the reality of you slipping from his grasp wasn’t so tangible, he wouldn’t have resorted to deceit.  But as it was, there was no way he was letting you go now. 

After all, the fear of lying to you was nothing compared to the fear of losing you forever. (But now, he may just lose you because of it.)

His explanations ring through your head, but all you hear are excuses. You fire back, words slow and tense like a string stretched thin. “You think you’re always right, but you’re not. That's not an excuse to withhold this from me. Living in the N109 Zone is a danger in itself, so what’s so different about this?” 

He scoffs, “The difference is that here, you are by my side. Do you think I can't protect you?”

“It's not your responsibility to protect me. In fact, I've long overstayed my welcome here.”

“Says who?” His eyes stare intently into yours, as he opens his arms, “Look around, dear. The only person who wants you to leave is you.”

He shakes his head, frustrated, “Do you even understand what could happen to you if you pursue this path? This not only blurs the boundary between our worlds, but the boundary between life and death. You could die before ever seeing a glimpse of your old world,” A frantic panic shadows his eyes as he moves forward, shaking you by the shoulders, almost begging you not to do this.

“At least I'd finally have some peace!” You spat out like a bullet that’s been lodged in your chest, a truth so hard to bear. Every day in this world has been an uphill battle, and no connection — whether familial or romantic — could make up for everything you had lost, or the closure you had seeked.

“You don’t mean that.” He murmurs in disbelief, the broken look on his face enough to have your shoulders slumped in guilt.

He tries — you know he does — to close the distance that you have placed. But a sadistic part of you likes to see him hurt, likes to see him struggle to repair what he unintentionally broke. But the other part of you just wants to spare yourself from any more hurt. 

You’ve never been the type to cling to your pride, but not even you can acquiesce to this when you feel so wronged.

“Do you even understand what this information means to me?” Your voice trembles in desperation, “You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything. I cared about my life. I had dreams, I had plans! My family and friends, they all probably think I’m missing or dead — when I'm just here, trying to get back to them. Yet you have the audacity to pretend like you did this for my sake?”

To him, your arrival was a miracle. Another surprise fate had thrown his way, something he was determined not to let slip from his grasp this time around.

But to you, your arrival in this world was your greatest tragedy.

In spite of it all, he puts his foot down, refusing to put your life on the line. “No, this is where I draw the line. You will not be pursuing this — this death wish, and that’s final.” He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripped your shoulders until he steps back from the sheer betrayal in your eyes. 

For the first time, you look at him as if he were no more than a stranger. Like you didn’t know him, hadn’t held him in your arms in his lowest moments. He could handle the hunter’s anger and distrust, your distance and aloofness. But your fear? It breaks him. 

Still, he swallows this heartbreak in favor of your safety. “Ignore me, hate me — I'm willing to put up with all of it so long as you don’t hurt yourself.” 

“Well, what fucking choice do I have when you control everything in this goddamned place?” You close your eyes and laugh bitterly, whispering, “I guess I never knew you as well as I thought I did.”

You walk away, and he knows better than to chase you. 

All this time, you had felt guilty for hurting him with your distance, for being an obstacle in the space that was meant for the hunter. Meanwhile, he had been the one barricading you from going back. But why? You cannot comprehend as to why he would be selfish enough to try and keep you here, not when he has everything he’s ever wanted.

Your thoughts continue to spiral as you return to your room– and for the first time, you feel more peace in the silence than in his company.

—————————————————————

He sits in the kitchen until early noon, stewing in disappointment and anger towards himself. 

Sylus is hailed for his ability to read people. His target’s desires, his enemy’s weaknesses, his loved ones’ needs. Yet when it comes to you, he finds himself lost at sea, in conflict with himself in a way he hasn’t been since he was unused to the world and its dangers. 

For the past millennia, he’d had a clear focus, a clear goal — until you strolled in and completely upended his world and everything he thought he knew. 

And what’s worse? He would let you do it as many times as you wanted. 

He knows this won’t be resolved so easily. Both of you are the type whose true feelings cannot be encapsulated by mere words. And when the storm inevitably rolls in, he’s afraid of what might be lost in the collateral. Because now, he was far too gone. 

Losing the sorceress had nearly broken him once, sent him on a search that had clouded his realization of the place you’d taken in his heart. The realization that he couldn’t bear to live without those mundane moments with you.

He knows, here and now, that he needs to fix this. Right his wrongs, clear things with the hunter, and maybe beg at your feet for you to look at him kindly again, after all he’s done to push you away. Before it's too late and he lets love slip from his grasp once again. 

—————————————————————

The ballroom is lit under the warm glow of the numerous chandeliers, casting light over your stone cold face. The opulent celebration — a business partner’s 40th wedding anniversary — was a complete juxtaposition to the storm raging inside you, uncaring to be approachable as you swirl your wine. 

In a twist of cruel irony, another event had delegated Sylus to bring a partner for the evening.

“We'll be leaving at 8 o’clock. Use my card for the dress — and treat yourself, while you’re at it.” He informed you, placing one of his cards on your desk along with the invitation. You raised an eyebrow in skepticism, he never spared time for frivolous events such as anniversaries, especially for people he barely knew.

“What, the hunter wasn’t free this time around?” You can’t help but ask, the snark evident in your tone.

He sighs and walks away, not even deigning that with a response. “Don’t be late.”

You shove the invite into a drawer, fully intent on ditching him. But alas — he added it to the calendar himself.

You were expecting him to hand you another half-hearted apology, to add to the growing pile that was already accumulating. Apology flowers left at your desk, paperwork submitted on time, deliveries of chocolates and your favorite food at the office, as his eyes suspiciously don’t meet yours. 

“If you think you can bribe me with material things, then you don’t know me very well,” You bitterly threw these words at him then, before clocking out for the day. But Sylus was never one to give up easily. 

Throughout the night, you feel the constant prickle of eyes on your back. At first, you assume it’s because of past events, people’s curiosity towards the secretary Sylus was so quick to defend. Your insecurity has you turning around each time — only to meet your employer’s gaze across the room, his eyes lingering on you even with the conversation in front of him. You scoff and look away.

Eventually, he approaches you with your coat in hand, “I believe it’s time to take our leave.”

“So early?” You reply, your words short and cutting when it's necessary to speak. 

“This night has already proven to be a disappointment. No reason to waste any more of our time.”

“I'll call for the driver then,” You’re about to dial when he plucks your phone out of your hand. 

“No need, I've already given him the night off. I'll be the one driving us home.” You squawk in indignance. Once again, this man has managed to corner you into a situation where you can’t escape him. “But, dinner first, shall we?” He extends a hand, which you resolutely walk past.

This seething ignorance follows him the whole way to the restaurant, into the dimly lit private room where the two of you are seated. Had it been any other occasion, you would’ve taken the time to appreciate the florals adorning the tables, the band playing jazz in the corner, and the delicious food. But your anger clouds your enjoyment, as you channel your frustrations into blindly ordering the most expensive items on the menu. 

It isn’t until you’re about halfway through the meal and down one bottle of wine when he finally gets you to speak up, “You can’t stay mad at me forever, darling.”

You take a heavy breath through your nose, “Maybe not, but I can certainly try.” You take another sip of your wine, burying your hurt and sorrow into another bottle. 

“You should realize that I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness.” 

“You broke my trust. You lied by omission, letting me continue on a wild goose chase when you were withholding the answers. Pretty words and extravagant gifts aren’t enough to earn my trust again.”

He gently reaches for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “I know that, and I'm willing to do it all to earn your forgiveness. Not only for my deception, but all your hurts that have gone unnoticed.”

It’s too much, your chest feels too heavy with all that’s bearing down on you. Your voice takes a shaky note, “Sylus, all I want is to go home. That’s it.”

You put up the boundaries he never had the heart to, kept your heart at bay for both of your sakes. But now, he wants to pry open your walls, to reveal the fears that plague you at night.  

“I know, dear. I know. And if that’s what you truly want, then I promise to do everything in my power to help you —- so long as it doesn’t result in you getting hurt.” He looks into your eyes, grasping your hand tightly, “All I want is for you to feel safe in confiding in me again — to share your worries, your fears, as you once did. Allow me to carry the weight of your grief with you.”

He knows how much your arrival in this world hurt you, and he carries the guilt of being selfish enough to keep you here despite that.

“I can't anymore. It hurts too much to confide in you, to have a taste of what I know I'll never have. What we’ll never be.” You don’t know what possesses you to admit this yearning. Maybe the intoxication from the wine. Maybe his pleading eyes, or his sweet talk, saying all the right words you’ve wanted to hear for the longest time. But you don’t have any fight left in you to keep your distance. 

“What you can’t have? Darling, I would lay the world at your feet, if that was your wish,” He strokes your cheek with an intimacy surpassing friendship — but you haven’t been just friends in a while, have you? 

Maybe you both drank a little too much, scooted a little too close in the booth, got too caught up in each other's presence (something you've both been starved of for a while). You don’t know who moved first — but one of you ends up breaking. 

You share a starved kiss, hidden under the privacy of dim lights. All at once, the chatter of the restaurant and the rushing of cars dissipate, and all that's left in this universe is you and him and cosmic dust, orbiting around each other.

He explores your mouth, brows furrowed, hands gripping your waist and pulling you to his lap — as if he could meld the two of you by the flesh. It’s like a taste of heaven on your lips, tasting what you had yearned for, denied yourself for so long.

And for a moment you think: what was stopping you from being together? What was so wrong with this connection — so powerful that it wracked your body with shivers and tethered your soul to his presence? 

And then you remember: the hunter.

The reality of what's happening dawns on you, your eyes widening mid-kiss as you abruptly push him away, leaving him stunned; his tie crooked, lipstick staining the corner of his lips. 

Your hands tremble, still hazy from that searing kiss as you try to hold back the tears welling at your eyes, “Sylus —” You choke on your tears, unable to form the words. 

He grasps your face, breathing your name, trying to make sense of what just happened. 

“Sylus, oh god, what did we just do? I — fuck, what about the hunter?”

You run outside the private room, the voices of the restaurant and servers fading in the distance as you hastily escape from the implications of what you’ve just done. You try to hail a taxi when he catches up to you, calling your name.

He may be in front of you but all you see is the hunter, her face riddled with betrayal and hurt. Unlabeled as their relationship may be, she’s just spent the past few weeks opening her heart to someone only for it to be betrayed. By a new friend, at that.

You don’t know what possessed you to kiss him back, to deepen it and lose yourself in his lips. Love struck your head, ridding you of logic. Made you give in to the sin of yearning for something that isn’t yours. And now, you were facing the guilty consequences. 

“Sylus, we’ve done enough. Please, let’s just forget that any of this ever happened —-”

You’re cut off by his hollow laugh, his chin tilting down for his eyes to stare directly into yours. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“This is gonna ruin everything you’ve wished for, don’t you see?” You’re desperate for him to see the wrongdoing in your actions. 

“No, it’s you who doesn’t see what’s in front of you.” He grasps your wrist, pressing it to his chest, gentle in a way that doesn’t match the fire in his eyes. “Do you feel this heart? It races in your presence, melts at your touch — and if you disappeared? Well, it would simply stop beating.”

His other hand rests on your clavicle, fiddling with the necklace that has remained on your neck since the night of your birthday. He's a man who never says please, but for you he’ll get on his knees and plead.

His words, such heartfelt words that want to make you give in to all of his wishes are one thing. But his actions are another. You’ve witnessed firsthand the way he looks at her, melts in her presence. And you’re not ignorant to how she feels for him now, once heated frustration turning into the adoration she feels now. 

“How could I ever believe what you’re saying?” You feel almost hysterical, with the weight of your emotions crashing down on you. “You’re telling me that you’ve waited hundreds of years for the love of your life, the person bonded to your soul, and you’re going to push it all away for some fleeting connection?”

“Don’t reduce it to something as frivolous as that,” His face darkens, and he grips your hand tighter. “You know that what we have runs deeper than both of us can describe.”

”But what is it to a soulmate?” Your voice is despondent, resigned, “What is this compared to a bond transcending time and space? I know that regardless of what happens here, you’ll choose her. I know that very well, Sylus.” Your voice breaks as you reach your tipping point. 

His heart stills, because he himself doesn’t know what he can say to prove himself.

“Please don’t cry,” His voice softens at the sight of tears welling in your eyes, becoming all but putty in your hands. As of this moment, he knows there’s no convincing you, no making you believe that his words ring sincere and true. But he still can’t help but motion to wipe your tears, until you harshly block his hand.

The sorceress and the traveler, Miss Hunter and Miss Secretary. The dragon resting inside of him couldn’t bear to let go of his mate — after all, what was a centuries-old love compared to a new, fleeting connection? But the threads of fate had woven together to bring you to him, and the man he was now couldn’t bear to cut those ties.

You swallow the hurt, trying to put into words the burden that’s been weighing on you for so long, “I don't want to live in her shadow. I don't want to see this through when I know that one day, you’ll regret what you’ve lost.”

His face falls, and you feel a bit of satisfaction in seeing him carry even a smidgen of the hurt you’ve felt. But for the most part, it just hurts you to see him in pain. 

”You think so lowly of me, as if I don't have the autonomy to make my own decisions. But you need to face the facts, dear —- the only one holding back is you.” He’s laid his heart on a silver platter. The only obstacle here was your own doubts, your own insecurities.

You reel back as he steps closer, “So tell me, why do you prevent us from having what we both want?” He brushes his hand gently against your cheek.

You take a deep breath to say the words you know will end this for good. “Because I deserve better than to settle for second place in your heart.” You give him no time to refute before you turn around, heart bruised and battered. “Please, just leave. Don’t follow me. I don't wanna speak to you anymore, not tonight.”

“I’m not leaving you alone in this city —”

“I'll call someone.”

And that’s how it ends. 

You walk away, deciding to call Kieran to pick you up. You can’t bring yourself to be in close proximity with Sylus right now. You know he hasn’t actually left, hearing the conspicuous whirring of his motorcycle in the distance, engine alerting you to his presence from a mile away. In the corner of your eye, you can see Mephisto's red, beady eyes from the pedestrian light across the road, watching you. 

Still, you continue to walk aimlessly in this false notion of solitude, carrying your heels as you wait for Kieran to arrive. Now that the haze of alcohol has cleared, and you’ve let out all that was building up since the hunter’s arrival, you can’t help but feel hollow. Completely drained of all the anger and sorrow that you’d been carrying in the past few weeks. 

The streetlights cast these roads in an artificial light, the moonless sky and desolate streets feeling emptier under its warm glow. Midsummer was fast approaching, a period once marked by sunshine and cicadas. The N109 Zone was the antithesis to everything you’d ever known and cherished — and for a while, you thought that maybe it could be enough. 

But now, you yearn for the sun to rise after the long night you’ve endured. 

A familiar car eventually pulls up, the window rolled down for you to see the concern on Kieran’s face. But he says nothing as you enter, haggard and spent, with no energy to hide your woes or muster up small conversation. The lights of the city dissipate as you head into the outskirts of the N109 Zone, and you can only hope the darkness is enough to shroud the silent tears streaming down your face.

Kieran says nothing as you silently cry in the backseat, offering you the grace of asking no questions. 

—————————————————————

Sylus watches painfully as you walk away, ashamed by this seemingly forbidden act — when all he wants to do is pull you in for more. 

For the longest time, he'd been in this foolish delusion that things could be the same between him and the hunter. If he got her to remember, if he got her to open up. But the truth was, it’ll never be the same. Both of them were two entirely different people in this life, and now… now there was you. 

He had been desperately latching on to the love that was robbed from him centuries ago, and blinded himself to the way you’d fully taken root in his heart. 

Now, he needed to cut off these loose ends and find a way to make up for his mistakes, his indecision — and only then, could he even try to give you the love that you deserve. 

But the next few days prove to be a trial as the world seems keen on keeping the two of you apart. You have a talent for avoiding him, finding increasingly elaborate ways not to cross paths with him. And when an important mission arises, requiring him to go into the field himself, it felt like fate conspiring against him.

He finishes the mission in record time, completing it in detached efficiency as he ponders how to go about speaking with you — something he plans to do as soon as he returns home. But as he nears the entrance to the Onychinus headquarters, he can immediately sense that something is wrong.

A flash of light strikes through the heart of the N109 Zone — devoid of the accompanying rumble of thunder to be lightning — when dread fills his bones. He realizes he's seen this before. 

On the day that you arrived.

He rushes into the building, immediately approached by his lackeys reporting of traitors lurking in Onychinus, who thought it wise to attack the base in his absence. But all he can think about is finding you. 

He rushes to his office, finding the twins equally distressed, after they’d cleared the floor for traitors. “Boss, she’s gone.” 

“Explain it to me clearly. Who's gone?” His heart is racing — struck by horror at the blood pooling at your desk. He knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to confront the devastation about to tip over. 

“Miss Secretary. We apprehended the traitor, but there was a stray bullet and then — she just vanished.” 

Rage blinds him. Suddenly he wants vengeance, retribution, ordering his men to apprehend the shooter. All he can do is imprison and torture the man who dared shoot at the woman he loves, making him suffer for what he’s taken from you. 

But it's not nearly enough. Not when your absence is so palpable, not when you’ve left his life as easily as you entered it. 

In the end, your departure is but a whisper in the N109 Zone, leaving behind nothing but a pool of blood and a mark on his heart.

—————————————————————

are we gonna talk about the way it took me a whole car crash, the national elections, and a loved one's terminal illness to finally finish this chapter? maybe another day. but for now i'm going to play death and rebirth (i didn't let myself until i finished this LOL) i'll see you all on the next chapter where we pick up where this chapter left off and (maybe) see things from sylus’s perspective!

some things i’d like to share since i took off for a month

i've started a new term with new professors — and one of them is literally named GOJO??? my class calls him “professor gojo uwu~” behind his back its hilarious

hot chocolate does not mix well with vodka (don’t ask me how i know)

filipino lads artists are goated and i spend more money on their merch than on the actual game

i fear i’ve become too delusional because why does my dad’s doctor look like ZAYNE —

p.s. if any of you are interested, i've linked the playlist i made for this fic in the series masterlist :>

taglist — @mangooes @mentaltrouble2201 @animegamerfox @crazy-ink-artist @phisen @jeondyy @t4naiis @wifunozomi @munimunni @blessdunrest @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @paintedperidot @mansonofmadness @pillarofsnow @sylususeyourevolonmepls @angelichiaro @mephisto-with-a-knife @crimsonmarabou @hikaru-sama @flamedancer13 @tati-the-fangirl @ameili @poptrim @caramelizedpopcirn @cupid-gene @vvonunie @lunia-likes-pomegranet @iamawkwardandshy @tinyweebsstuff @astolary @vyntheria @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @velourmobius @beaconsxd @hon3yydew @kira-loves0905 @codedove @that-lost-one @colonelcalebs-pipsqueak @kaiii07 @bohoooitsme @everythingistaken00 @rmjace @red-raf-sy @goddexxluv @seris-the-amious @stellisangelicus-world @alhaith4ms @young-adult-summer @junrui

feel free to dm/comment on the series masterlist if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist 💕comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

[winter-parrot]

making my official entrance into the 911 fandom / bucktommy with a fic for #bucktommyhiatusevent week one: home.

buck looks for home in the aftermath of season 8. | 2.5k

now on ao3 as well!

------------

Turns out living in your car is not like riding a bicycle. His body does not magically remember how to fold up into the back seat of his Jeep and fall asleep. If anything, it feels like the space has somehow shrunk since the last time he’s done this. Although, that might have something to do with how much he’s bulked up in the last seven years since he settled in LA and became a firefighter.

It’s alright. It’s not like he’d really expected better. He’d hoped, sure. He’d hoped for a lot of things, things that did not include sleeping in his car. But hope is in short supply these days, and it’s not about to make a surprise appearance for anything so trivial as Buck’s apartment hunting woes.

It was only supposed to be for a day or two, is the thing. Just until he could find a new place to move into. But one day stretched into two into three, and somehow he’s already in his second week of car-living. His bad leg started protesting on day five, and now his back is joining in. He suspects every muscle in his body will rebel against him, one by one by one, within the next week.

The problem is, he has nowhere else to go. Nowhere has felt right. It’s not like he hasn’t tried, either. He’s been doing nothing but apartment hunting in his free time—not like there’s a whole lot else to do, living in his car—and the real estate agent helping him seems increasingly ready to stab him just to get this endless search over with. He doesn’t blame her, at this point. It feels like he’s seen every available apartment within a two-hour radius of the station house.

And yet, not a single one has felt right. Has felt like a place he could call his own, a place that might become home.

Maybe the problem is actually bigger than an apartment. Maybe the problem is just him, all of him and the hopeless needy wanting thing in his chest. Maybe he’s just Bucking it up, like always. Maybe there’s actually no right place for him in LA, and he’s just an idiot chasing a pipe dream.

It’s not so far fetched a thought, really. He keeps finding himself wanting things he’s never going to find. Things that would be hard enough to get one of, never mind all together—and that’s even before he considers LA real estate and his own less-than-impressive budget.

Knowing it’s unrealistic doesn’t stop him from wanting, as always. He longs for exposed beams and brick walls and a long dark dining table, like the firehouse. Wonders briefly if that’s why he liked his old place; the layout vaguely resembled the firehouse, with the open plan and the loft. Has to stop himself before he gets maudlin about missing the loft, on top of everything else. He pictures a big back yard with a grill, like Bo— like Athena’s old place. Makes himself stop imagining before his thoughts can stray to Bobby, to all the times he stood in that familiar space, cooking or hosting a party or manning the grill like he never will again. Thinks instead of a bright sunny living room and a big garage for his bike and his jeep and his side projects, like he’d seen at… well. Like he’d seen in someone else’s house a few times, months ago.

Those months ago feels like a different lifetime, now. Back then, he had a loft he liked well enough. He had a job he loved. He had Bobby and backyard barbecues and shared dinners. He had a family in the 118. He had a best friend whom he could always turn to, whose child he loved like his own. He had a boyfriend he could envision an actual future with.

Now, he’s got no solid roof over his head; a job he’s still debating transferring out of, never mind his cancelled transfer request; no Bobby, no backyard barbecues, no family dinners; no family that needs him or even wants him around; a best friend who maybe hates him for making things about himself, again; and no boyfriend. It’d almost be funny, how fast and hard everything fell apart, if it wasn’t his own life he had to live through every day.

He considers, vaguely, the possibility that Maddie may have accidentally cursed him, back when she told him he had to learn to be alone. Here he is, all alone now, and learning that same lesson again for the thousandth time. You’d think it would get easier over time, but somehow each review seems to make it worse and worse. It’s also possible he accidentally cursed himself, when he complained to Eddie about everything falling apart. If only he’d known back then just how far away rock bottom still was. Or it could be that he was simply cursed from birth. Couldn’t save Daniel, couldn’t do the one thing he was literally born to do; couldn’t ever make his parents happy, no matter how much he tried; couldn’t get Maddie to come with him, when he was running towards freedom and wanted her at his side; couldn’t ever stop a partner from leaving him behind, no matter how much he loved them and loved them and loved them.

Doesn’t really matter why or how, really. Point is, he’s pretty sure there has to be some kind of curse upon him. Everyone else seems to have somebody, but he’s always the one left behind. Left alone. Sleeping in his car, because he doesn’t even have a couch he can reliably crash on.

He can’t go to Maddie and Chimney; they have a newborn infant at home, on top of Chimney’s soon-to-be captaincy, and recovering from Maddie’s kidnapping barely rhree months ago. Can’t go to Athena, can’t intrude on her and May and Harry’s grief, not when they lost the most out of them all. Can’t go to Hen, barging in on her and her family when Mara’s still settling in and everyone is fragile. Can’t go to Eddie, can’t… well. Can’t do much with Eddie at all, right now. Can’t go to Ravi, because they might be friends but they’re not that kind of friends, not yet, and maybe not for years yet while the grief sits between them looming larger than their friendship. Can’t go to Tommy, because Buck’s not his problem anymore—anyway he’s done more than enough for Buck already, what with stealing a helicopter to piss off the Army and bearing Bobby’s casket with them.

Can’t go to the firehouse, because for all that it felt like home, he can’t actually live there. Besides, it doesn’t really feel like home anymore. Not with Gerrard in the captain’s office, and no family dinners, and a cavernous yawning chasm cutting through everything that no one will talk about. Not without Bobby.

So he’s stuck in the car. He could shell out for a hotel room for a few nights, probably, but that’s expensive. And it just feels stupid, too. Like admitting defeat. He used to do this all the time, in that stretch of time between driving away from Maddie and ending up at the fire academy. Being a failed Navy SEAL or ranch hand-ing or bartending in Peru was all fun and good, he doesn’t regret it, but it hadn’t exactly left him flush with cash. Hadn’t been very stable or reliable, for that matter. He’d thought he’d left that part of his life behind him, when he finally settled at the fire academy and settled into his own skin, but well. Life’s full circle, or something like that.

Buck drives aimlessly, letting the hour turn late in the hopes that sheer exhaustion will overcome the mounting discomfort of not sleeping in a bed. Or maybe not so aimlessly; the clock is just ticking over midnight when he looks around to realize habit or fate or his goddamn curse has brought him to a familiar neighbourhood.

Stupid. This was such a bad idea. This wasn’t the kind of neighbourhood where you could get away with just parking on the side of the street in a strange car and sleeping the night. Someone was going to call the cops on him, if he tried that. He should drive away, leave it behind, and find a parking lot or something.

But now that he’s here, now that he’s so close, the hopeless needy wanting thing in his chest is clawing at the insides of his ribs like a caged beast. He can’t stop himself from driving on instead of turning around like he most definitely should. He doesn’t have it in him to resist, is worn too paper-thin in and threadbare to put up any more of a fight than a wet paper bag. Isn’t even sure he wants to, really, even if he is sure that he should.

The lights are dark in the house, because it’s getting on 12:30 now and sane people have gone to bed. He really should leave, now. Shouldn’t interrupt the peace of this night, crashing into it like a wrecking ball. Shouldn’t disturb Tommy and bleed his petty troubles all over him, any more than he should bother Chim or Maddie or Hen or Athena with it. All the reasons why he can’t go to Tommy haven’t magically disappeared just because he’s somehow ended up in front of Tommy’s house.

But the hopeless needy wanting thing in Buck’s chest is holding the reins, now. It kinda feels like he’s watching someone else move, like that hopeless needy wanting thing has taken over his body. Hopeless-needy-wanting-Buck pulls the Jeep right up into the driveway. Kills the engine and locks the door behind him once he gets out. Walks up to the door on legs that are only slightly unsteady. Knocks.

There’s no answer, because duh. It’s 12:30 at night. Tommy might not even be home, might be on shift at Harbour. Or on a romantic date with someone that ends up at their house, not his. Or watching Buck through a gap in the curtains somewhere, wondering why the hell his ex won’t leave him the fuck alone and hoping Buck just goes away.

The thought hurts, but he wouldn’t blame Tommy for it. Not after what he said in that kitchen, setting his second—third?—chance ablaze faster than an uncontrolled wildfire in the peak of August heat. Even if the idea of Eddie being competition is more ridiculous than ever, and hurts in a whole new way now.

Buck stands there, blank in the throbbing ache of his heart and his body. Could’ve been for thirty seconds or thirty minutes, he’s not sure. Time’s been getting a little hazy at the edges, these past weeks, and the simple act of digging out his phone to check feels like an insurmountable effort. It’s like all the exhaustion has caught up to him, all at once. He debates the merits of just going to sleep right there, curled up on Tommy’s front steps like a stray cat.

The door opens. Buck doesn’t register it for a second, not until a sleep-rough voice is saying his name. “Evan?”

Adrenaline spikes through his veins, wakes him right back up and deposits him rudely back into his body. Oh God, he’s really doing this. He’s really done this, shown up at Tommy’s door in the dead of night like the world’s worst uninvited houseguest. “T-tommy, I’m sorry. I just, I-I- I should go, I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

There’s a hand on his arm, a touch so gentle he can barely feel it. It shuts him right up anyway. There’s no room in Buck’s brain for anything other than the warmth and strength of Tommy’s big hand, palpable even through his shirt.

“Do you want to come inside?” Tommy asks, searching Buck’s face. “You look like you could use some sleep. And maybe a friendly face.” Tommy’s lips press shut after that, pinched at the corners like he didn’t mean to say that. He swallows tightly and looks away, avoiding Buck’s eyes.

Buck is fascinated by the click of his throat, but not more than he’s enraged by the uncertainty behind the motion. Tommy, who showed up for him and for Chim in defiance of the Army and the FBI and Incident Command. Tommy, who flew the most insane evasive maneuvers like it was nothing, and then almost got himself arrested for it. Tommy, who made him a feast for breakfast and bought a bottle of hopeful champagne that went to his waste after that single, beautiful night at the house that was never Buck’s. Tommy should never sound so uncertain. And Buck is the one who put that hesitation there, with his stupid words that mornin after. Maybe not all of it, maybe some of it predates his own mistakes, but enough.

The anger unsticks his mouth long enough to say, “You’re the friendliest face I’ve seen in weeks.” Means it, too. Except maybe Christopher, but thinking about him leads to Eddie, and he can’t. He just can’t, not right now.

Tommy looks back up at him, a glimmer in his eyes that fades into concern. He looks at Buck, really looks at Buck; Buck feels seen for maybe the first time since… since the lab. He’s terrified that Tommy will see all the ugly parts, the rotting grief and the worn-down useless bits of him that can’t even do the one thing Bobby asked him to. Can’t keep them together, can’t help anyone, can’t be needed. Can’t be enough for anybody.

Tommy finishes his assessment. Steps back. Speaks, before Buck can fully begin to panic about having the door slammed shut in his face. “Tell me about it?” He takes another step back, pulling the door open wider. Inviting Buck into his life, his heart, his home.

Buck takes the invitation, and walks in.

[rosenclaws]

XXX.Com || Pornstar Worst!Logan Howlett smut

summary: Logan needs money and work is hard to find when you're from another universe, luckily he lands himself a job as an adult film actor. Lets just say, he's a natural.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!!, 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, porn (obvi lol), jerking off, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, scratching, oral f!receiving, rough sex, fake professor x college student (its the porno they're filming), he calls you teach in the porno, reader has a stage name (sunshine), flirting.

a/n: This was inspired by the delicious pornstar logan fics by @bpmiranda I wanted to try my own twist on the trope but plz go check out their fics they are amazing!!

Coming from another universe had its fair share of problems. For one his other self was a very well known hero so people were constantly staring. The other issue was working. He needed money if he ever wanted to move out of this god forsaken place. He’s sick of seeing wade walk around naked at 8 in the morning.

He needs his space and to get that he needs money but getting a job with none of the required paperwork was hard. He had to settle for doing odd jobs that paid cash under the table. Those were fine but he needed something more stable.

When Wade suggested he turn to adult films he rolled his eyes at another attempt at shitty humor from his roommate but the more he thought about it the less it seemed like a joke. The money was good and hopefully they didn't ask too many questions. So fuck it. How he found the right place was a long story but he ended up getting hired pretty quickly.

As the director put it. He's sexy and big in more ways than one. To Logan's surprise they didn't seem to care much that he was from another universe but they did have to make sure he wasn't a total creep which he understood.

The first video he was assigned to was pretty basic. Just fucking a girls brains out or something. Whatever the hell people were in to these days, he didn't really care. As long as he got paid. He had to get used to the prying eyes of the cameras.

Still he said his lines, albeit it took him a couple takes to say them naturally. His gruff voice and rippling muscles skyrocketed him to the top. Despite being a rookie he attracted a lot of attention and even garnered a reputation within the studio. No one could deny the raw animal magnetism this man seemed to have.

"Logan! Good news, your next video is going to be a with one of the most popular stars in our studio." The directors over the top enthusiasm makes Logan's eyes roll but he grunts out a response.

"Her name is Sunshine. Look her up. Anyways be here tomorrow by nine." Sunshine? Logan chuckles to himself as he leaves the studio.

Fake names are not uncommon but he's yet to find one that sounds so...perky. Still his curiosity gets the better of him as he steals Wades laptop in the dead of night. Searching in the name and scanning the results. Logan works with many attractive people in this job but the moment he lays eyes on you something shifts.

You aren't just attractive, you're drop dead gorgeous. He clicks on a video and his cock tightens in his pants. The faces you make don't look over the top or rehearsed. They almost look real. But Logan can tell you're faking it.

Your moans are sweet but he can tell whoever this boy is that's got his cock in you isn't doing his job very well. Still ever the professional you are you make it work. He falls down a rabbit hole of video after video. Shutting the laptop as the clock reads two in the morning. His cock is hard and painful as he puts Wades laptop back on the counter.

Fuck he needs a shower.

The ice cold water hits his back but it's not helping. He wraps his hand around his cock. Keeping his noises to a minimum as he jerks himself off to the thought of you. He bites his lip as he thinks of every way he can make you scream tomorrow. Show you what it's like to be fucked by a real man.

The sinful thoughts that fill his head drive him over the edge. He slams his hand against the shower wall as he comes. The water running down his back as he catches his breath. You've already got him interested, he just hopes he can put on a real show tomorrow.

-

When Logan gets to the studio the director tells him the "plot" of this video. Plot being a very loose term here. He's supposed to be the failing college senior while you play the hot young professor. They hand him a white button up a size too small and some fake glasses. He laughs as they place the glasses onto his face.

"No one's going to fucking buy this." The buttons threaten to bust open as they start to fix his hair.

"I don't know, you look pretty convincing to me." He looks up to see you smiling at him.

Already dressed in your shoot clothes with your makeup and hair all done. He shamelessly looks you up and down, licking his lips as his eyes settle on your cleavage.

"I'm a little old to be playing a college student don't you think?" You shrug and walk closer to him. You take your hands and run them through his hair, trying to flatten the parts that stick up but they don't want to listen.

"Don't think any one is watching these for the realism Logan." You wink as you then move to fix his glasses.

He clenches his jaw as he tries to contain the raging boner. He shouldn't be hard yet but here he is. You're driving him crazy.

"Promise to go easy on you, don't want to scare my new favorite coworker." You tease. Your nails scratch along his jaw, just for a moment but it's enough to drive him wild.

"I'm your favorite already Sunshine?" Logan says with a grin.

"For now, don't prove me wrong when the cameras are on us." You walk away and Logan enjoys every second of it. Oh this is going to be fun.

-

"Come on teach, your class is the only one I'm failing. I need to get a C to graduate." Logan's massive frame towers over your desk. His lines come out much more flirty than its supposed to but you roll with it.

"You need a lot of extra credit to make up the missing assignments Mr. Howlett." You stand up and walk over to where he was standing.

Pushing on his chest to get him to sit. You smirk when you see the buttons on his shirt fighting for their life. You sit on top of the desk and pretend to think.

"I'll do anything you want. Anything" Logan growls, his hand resting on your thigh now. Slowing inching up your leg, stopping right at the hem of your pencil skirt. You place your heel onto his shoulder. Spreading your legs so that Logan and the camera can see your lack of panties.

"Well, lets see how bad you want it." You taunt.

Your voice is smooth as butter and it drives him nuts. Logan gets on his knees. Ripping your skirt apart with ease making you gasp. That wasn't in the script but fuck it made you wet. His muscles are bulging in that damn shirt and you want to see what's underneath in person. Sadly that was going to have to wait as he trails kisses up your legs. Wet and sloppy as his grip on your hips is ironclad.

The camera moves to capture Logan's face. Seeing the primal hunger in his eyes as he grabs the hem of your panties with his teeth, dragging them down. He stands up with them still in his mouth. You grab onto his shirt and rip it open. Raking your nails down his very toned chest. You grab your underwear out of his mouth and toss it to the side.

"Good boy." You purr as you push on his shoulders.

He gets back onto his knees and wastes no time diving into your cunt. You fall back onto the desk as Logan takes you apart with his tongue. Moans and whimpers fall from your lips with ease. There is no need to fake your pleasure with him between your legs.

He's hungry, ravenous. Logan can't get enough. He holds your legs apart, keeping you from closing them as he zeros in on your clit. He's ruthless. Refusing to give you a moment to breathe as he loses himself in your pussy.

"You taste sweeter than I imagined." He growls off script. If he wasn't bringing you to orgasm you'd wonder what he meant by that. You wonder if he watched your videos just like you had.

"Logan!" You moan as your legs start to shake under the intense pleasure.

"That's it teach, let me taste you come on." His dirty mouth makes your head spin.

Your eyes squeezing tight as he pushes you over the edge. You barely even notice the camera as it positions itself over Logan's shoulder. Logan resist the urge to break the damn thing as it gets in his way. He feels a push on his shoulder and he growls. Reluctantly he gets out of the way and uses his thumb to rub your clit.

"I have an idea teach," Logan purrs. He pulls you off the desk. Wrapping an arm around you and grinding his clothed cock against your thigh.

"For every orgasm I can pull out of you, you raise my grade by a letter." He breathes into your neck, inhaling your scent. You sigh as his hands start to grope and squeeze your breasts.

"What do you say?" He grins as he feels you squirm under his touch. He unbuttons your blouse and tosses it to the side. Mouth watering as he buries his face in your breasts.

"You better get to work then Mr. Howlett. You're at a D right now." You turn around and bend over the desk. His hands run along your body before he unbuckles his pants.

"I'll show you a D." He grumbles. You have to stifle a laugh at his words.

The camera moves to show your face as Logan slides his cock inside of you. He throws his head back in pleasure as he gets to feel your tight cunt. Now this is what he was waiting for.

"Come get a shot of this." He whispers to himself.

He drags his cock out slowly. He watches in awe as your cute pussy just sucks him up. Your hands are digging into the desk, clawing at the wood as Logan's massive cock pushes its way in. You knew he was big but to actually feel it in person. Fuck.

"That feel good? You like my big cock hm?" Logan's cocky tone makes you moan as he picks up his pace. He's pummeling your poor pussy with no mercy. Your moans are as real as they can get as you cry and whine with each thrust.

"Logan oh god!" Your eyes cross as his cock hits a sensitive spot.

No one's ever hit that before. You're falling apart. Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath but your moans quiet down because of it. Logan doesn't like that one bit. You groan as you feel his hand grab your hair. He pulls you up so that your back is arched. His cock somehow pushing its way deeper.

"Come on baby, don't hide from me." He whispers in your ear. He wraps an arm around your chest to hold you up. Your nails dig into his arm to ground yourself.

"Feel so fucking good, jerked myself off last night to your videos." He mumbles so only you can hear. You don't understand how a man can have so much stamina. He doesn't even seem tired.

"So fucking close I can feel it baby. I can feel the way your cunt clenches around my fat cock. I can hear her pulsing for me." His eyes grow dark as he feels you start to lose it.

His rough fingers sliding down to play with your cunt. It's a filthy sight to watch. You've forgotten about the cameras and the crew. The only thing you can feel is Logan. He's taken over your mind, your senses.

"That's it pretty girl." He bites your shoulder and the pain mixes with pleasure.

"Fuck!" You wail as you come hard around his cock. Logan groans in pleasure and comes before he can really stop himself. Filling you up nice and full as you babble incoherently. You can barely get your lines out as you float between the real world and cloud nine.

"You got your C Mr. Howlett." You've never been this wrecked after a scene before but Logan has completely ruined you. You grin at the feeling of his cum seeping out of you.

"You know, I've always wanted an A." He's grinning like the devil as he thrusts his hips once more making you cry out.

He's still fucking hard. He really is every porn studios wet dream. Hot, sexy, can go for round after round. The director calls cut but Logan doesn't let go of you. You've got this dazed look in your eyes and he gently lays you down on the desk.

"You alright?" He grunts as he slips out of you. His cock still standing straight as someone brings him a robe. He grabs a towel from one of the PA's and gently wipes up your legs. You whine as the rough material brushes against your poor pussy.

"Sorry." You just smile in response. You haven't had a fuck this good in a long time. A crew member brings you a robe and you put it on.

"You really know how to use that thing. For a second I thought you were the seasoned professional." You joke as you try and get off the desk. You stumble and Logan is quick to catch you.

"What can I say Sunshine, you made it easy." He flirts. The director calls his name and he rolls his eyes.

"Don't keep him waiting Logan. I'll see you soon." Another crew member comes to help you as Logan lets you go.

Thankfully this was all you had for the week and you could go home and soak in a bath. Your poor legs are going to need it. After signing a few things and getting next weeks shoot list you can finally go home.

"Sunshine, hope I didn't fuck you too good." Logan says with a wink. He's waiting outside of the studio, a cigar in his mouth.

"I regret whatever I said before, your ego is going to get too big." You joke. He shrugs and puts out his cigar on the ground.

"You got any plans?" He asks. Your dressed in normal clothes now, nothing remotely revealing but Logan still thinks you look gorgeous.

"I could take you to lunch, if you're interested." He offers.

You haven't thought about dating since you started working in this industry. You didn't need a partner and it could be hard trying to find one who understood your job. But Logan flashes that handsome smile and for some reason you can't resist.

Maybe your working backwards here. He fucks you and then you go to lunch but hey, nothing about him is conventional anyways.

"Yeah, lunch sounds good."

Its just lunch, you tell yourself. It's only a meal with your hot coworker. If things were to go further though you wouldn't complain. Certainly not when he's as handsome as he is. You definitely wouldn't mind taking him back to your place and you're certainly okay when he promises he can go for more rounds away from the prying eyes of the camera. But for now it's just lunch. He pays and you give him your number.

Logan and you part ways and he prays he sees you again. Not just at work but outside of it too. You've got him hooked. The video gets uploaded and explodes in popularity. Praising how realistic it felt and how hot both of you were. He gets a call from the director, expecting another update on his next shoot.

"Great news man! Sunshine wants to do exclusive shoots with you. Oh this is going to make us so much money." He tunes out the rambling as his phone dings. A smirk appearing on his face when he sees a text with your name pop up.

Want to rehearse our next scene? my place 7pm <3

[sunderwight]

AU where there's no system (or a decidedly less restrictive one) and Shen Yuan transmigrates into an OC rogue cultivator before the start of the novel, and decides he's gonna steal the protagonist before Luo Binghe even gets to Cang Qiong.

The logic is sound -- he'll keep Luo Binghe from experiencing neglect and abuse at Shen Qingqiu's hands, raise him away from the pressure of the sects and the likelihood that anyone else might find out about his heritage and try to harm him over it, keep him fully away from the Immortal Alliance Conference, and then Luo Binghe's course will change trajectory because he'll have no reason to want revenge against the world and no access to Xin Mo. Shen Yuan will be able to spare Luo Binghe some suffering and possibly survive in a world less subject to the harrowing whims of a half-mad tyrannical overlord. Win-win!

However, the tricky bit is that he's not sure exactly how far ahead of the novel he is, and also Airplane didn't specify where Luo Binghe grew up. This means that Luo Binghe could be any age younger than twelve and in any number of places along or near to the Luo river.

Shen Yuan decides he's going to approach this by pretending he is looking for the long-lost son of his sister, traveling through the likeliest areas, asking after abandoned children who might fit the protagonist's description. It's a long shot, he knows, and he's mostly relying on the existence of Narrative Destiny. But eventually he is directed by several people towards a particular city, which is not as close to the river as he'd have expected Luo Binghe to grow up, but then again he only knows that was where baby Binghe was found, not where the washerwoman who took him in ultimately lived.

It becomes clear to him, though, that he's been sent to the wrong target. But also why he's been sent astray is apparent in nearly the same breath, because among the slave children living in this area is a little boy who could be his much younger clone.

Seriously, this kid looks just like him! Or, well, close enough. He looks a lot like Shen Yuan's actual nieces and nephews from his past life. It's uncanny.

Also, because of his search, the slave kids get wind of what he's looking for (his long-lost nephew) pretty quick. The boy with the obvious resemblance to him greets Shen Yuan's own assessment with wary cynicism, but he's just a little boy. So it's not difficult to notice the way he's also practically vibrating with hopefulness, half-hiding behind a protective older kid and looking at Shen Yuan with big dark eyes like he expects to be rescued or destroyed with whatever he has to say next.

Shen Yuan has a big problem now. He just knows that if he says something like "actually no this boy is too old to be my nephew" or whatever other excuse, no one will believe him, and also this poor kid is going to be permanently scarred by it. He's going to think Shen Yuan is lying just so that he can reject him. On top of that, he's not in a good situation here. None of these children are even remotely well cared-for.

Shen Yuan's rogue cultivator self isn't rich on the level of being like a wealthy sect leader or anything, but he's made some money since transmigrating by doing random cultivator jobs and quests along the way here. He uses it all to purchase two little slave boys (Do Not Separate), then takes another job and uses that coin to acquire a somewhat rundown manor which used to belong to the local gentry. The Qiu family (rings some bells but that's not exactly an uncommon name) kept it up for a while in case a branch family sprung up in need of a residence, but they've been in decline and the place is downright decrepit, so they had been looking to sell it instead. It's too big for a wandering bachelor like SY to ever need on his own account, but that's sort of the idea. He makes more money taking on cultivator work, at first taking his boys along with him for lack of any alternative. Nerve-wrackingly dangerous! Eventually he hires workers to start restoring the manor, particularly setting up a yard to be a school area, and then starts taking on any freelance jobs he can get in order to steadily buy out the contracts on all the other kids. He gets it nice enough to house and care for as many orphans as he can acquire.

Not because he's a big old softie though!

His story of looking for his nephew is a bust now, since he's apparently "found" the kid. So he's got to change tactics! If he can't find baby Binghe and the washerwoman, the next best approach is to create an opportunity for them to come to him. So once he's got his new household established, he starts offering free lessons to all the local kids. Not just the ones he's taken in, but also any who come by and want to learn some things. It's a tempting setup for anyone who wants their child to get education but can't afford a tutor, and Luo Binghe's mother had been entirely the sort of person who would have packed up and left her situation if there had been an opportunity for it.

On that note, SY also starts hiring single mothers to help look after his new gaggle of children and do the work he doesn't know how to do in these times, like keeping house, laundry, cooking, actually raising kids, etc.

His "little school" is not universally popular. A few groups try and ruin him, because the poverty in the region provides a basis of business for them. The ringleaders of the human traffickers in the area don't want their trade to dry up, even if it means selling all of their merchandise for this round, so when they find out that their underlings let Shen Yuan buy off all the kids they try and intimidate him into returning them (it doesn't go well for them). The Qiu family also isn't thrilled after it becomes clear what he's doing, and get him investigated by the local authorities (read: use their bribed officials and local goons to try and interfere.)

When that doesn't work either the sects get involved, because the Qiu go crying to Huan Hua Palace that Shen Yuan is sketchy and is trying to establish his own sect. So Shen Yuan talks his way around the matter, and frankly the Qiu are small fish even if they're the biggest ones in the local pond, so HHP doesn't care to pursue things much further. (Read: SY could mop the floor with the disciples they sent to investigate him, and it's not worth it to piss off someone this mysterious and powerful just to bully some impoverished children.)

Shen Yuan is appalled by all this bullshit though. Trust the world of PIDW to make it so hard just for a guy to teach some poor kids how to read and do math!

It makes him dig in his heels about it, because he is at heart a stubborn bastard. The fires that once fueled a thousand angry screeds on zhongdian literature site is now aimed at the local magistrate. One of the women he's hired on has some dirt on the Qiu family, which leads SY to dig up some more until he eventually has enough to turn the tables on them. Local officials won't investigate because they've all been bought, but that in and of itself is of some interest to their superiors closer to the palace, and so SY arranges an investigation of his own that goes way further than he thought? Turns out there are some ugly skeletons in the Qiu closets, and the imperial investigator comes down on them hard.

Well, he can't say they didn't have it coming? Though he does feel bad for the children in the family, especially the oldest son, who gets hauled off to jail along with his father. At least the girl is sent to live with relatives. Maybe he should have done more to shield the minors in the situation...?

His kids tell him not to worry about it, though, that apparently young master Qiu was known to run people down in the streets and beat his servants and do other cartoonishly awful things. SY's not sure how much of it is true and how much of it is his little flock of fluffy sheep trying to ease his conscience, though they do all seem to take a lot of vindictive delight in the whole affair. Especially Nephew, who clings to his sleeves and loudly declares that the investigator should have publicly flogged the discredited nobles so that everyone could go watch, and then begs him for sweets as if that wasn't a creepy thing to hear come out of an eight-year-old's mouth. SY just sighs and tells him he can have something good when he finishes his calligraphy practice.

Of course, it's not exactly easy running what is basically an orphanage-slash-school (and maybe a budding sect...?), especially when pretty much all of the kids have been traumatized and faced stuff like rampant dehumanization, food insecurity, abuse, and neglect. Hiring single mothers soon becomes not only a plan to try and lure in Luo Binghe's mom, but an absolute godsend of an idea because SY has no clue WHAT he would do on his own about the discipline issues or emotional breakdowns or acting out that some of the kids get up to once it registers that they're in a safe enough place to unpack their baggage.

Apart from Nephew, SY's favorite kid is the one who came with him, the oldest of the flock of former slave children. He's the big brother of the group, the one who tries his best to look after the others and to not make any trouble himself. But even poor Little Yue is still just a kid who has been through too much, and he also eventually starts having some meltdowns and struggles with processing everything that has happened to him as a vulnerable child in an unkind world.

SY really didn't mean to start a trauma center for mistreated children!

Though, that's still not necessarily a bad thing for Luo Binghe to one day come across, provided he ever actually shows up...

Eventually, Shen Yuan does figure out that he must be ahead even of Luo Binghe's birth, though he still doesn't put together that he's interfered in the scum villain's backstory. Probably something even more amusingly obscure, like the creation year of some random artifact Luo Binghe used in some wife plot or other, tips him off and he mentally throws his hands up in the air. He's got to wait DECADES? Maybe he ought to try and find Luo Binghe's biological parents and just follow them around at this point!

Not that he can, now, though, because he has to make sure no negative IQ villains (who will probably just be cannon fodder for a subplot one day) decide to send goons to literally burn down his orphanage. Also if he's gone for too long his kids get upset. Probably because no one else is as weak to their puppy dog eyes and pleas for treats and toys as he is.

At least it gives him time to shore up his position, and train Nephew and Little Yue more extensively in cultivation. Despite his initial assurances to HHP that he was but a humble orphan wrangler who was only incidentally a cultivator, Shen Yuan does also teach the other kids some basic cultivation exercises. There are a few reasons for that.

One is just the principle of the thing. No, these kids don't all have the potential to become great immortals or anything, but they can still learn some of it and it's good for their health if they do. The only trouble is if they try and push too hard or attempt things beyond their range, and that's a risk with everyone who cultivates. Or even just exercises!

Another reason is that it helps stave off the jealousy that some of the kids have towards those with more cultivation potential. Teaching a lot of the basics all around makes it into just another topic at school. Some kids might not be as good at it as others, but those kids might also be better at math, or memorization, or board games, and while cultivation can open more doors to people as adults, for the children this is generally enough to satisfy their sense of fairness. Or at least reduce outbursts and fights.

Finally, the impression that any of SY's kids might be a cultivator also makes wicked people more reluctant to try and abduct or interfere with them. Cultivators are revered and nearly mythological figures in the public consciousness. It isn't difficult to see why, if even a rogue cultivator NPC like SY* can mop the floor with most random muggers (*Shen Yuan is not a normal rogue cultivator). Not many people want to risk bringing SY's ire down on them, but of those who might chance it if he wasn't around to immediately react, even fewer want to risk that the kids themselves could kick their asses.

Not knowing that only two of the orphans probably could in fact mop the floor with them helps keep all the rest safer, and is more believable when all of them can conduct themselves enough like disciples to fool anyone who doesn't know what to really look for.

Developments that surprise Shen Yuan but wouldn't surprise anyone else who is paying attention:

People start leaving unwanted babies and younger children on his doorstep. Not all the time, but more than once has he had to frantically find wet nurses and worry that he's changed things enough that some fishermen might just randomly drop the protagonist outside his gate, and he wouldn't even know because Binghe would be a literal infant??

Nephew (SJ) and Little Yue (Yue Qi -- only Shen Yuan calls him "Little", especially when he gets taller than SY by the time he's sixteen) are prodigies who get really good at cultivation, really fast, and between that and Shen Yuan's OP skills they completely warp Shen Yuan's ideas for what normal cultivation potential looks like. This would probably cause more problems if he wasn't teaching all the kids how to cultivate anyway, but means his students actually do kinda run the usual range of skills for a small sect.

SJ and YQ swiftly reach the point where they need more advanced equipment than just SY's teaching can provide, if they're going to keep building their skills. Gaining access to certain tools, aids, and materials (like spiritual swords) is a real hurdle though, and usually is for rogue cultivators (one of the major disadvantages of no sect affiliation.) Shen Yuan is hesitant to use stuff from the plot, since it's For Binghe, but he eventually caves and starts going after some things that he doesn't think the future protagonist will miss much. He also ends up buying stuff from HHP, since they're willing to sell things like spiritual tools and weapons if the price is right, whereas most other sects like Cang Qiong reserve them for members only.

They get an invitation to the Immortal Alliance Conference. Not the one where the Abyss opens up, obviously, the one where (originally) Shen Jiu reunited with Yue Qi and killed Wu Yanzi. Shen Yuan debates on going but the boys really want to, and things have calmed down enough that no one's trying to burn down the school whenever he leaves these days, so eventually he figures it'll be interesting to see some of the Cang Qiong characters and should be safe enough if he keeps his disciples close.

They don't run into young Yue Qingyuan or Shen Qingqiu on the trip, but Wu Yanzi does show up and get killed, and SY only hears about it and assumes they just missed all that action. (WYZ just got caught by some senior cultivators who recognized him and killed him to avenge some disciples he murdered.) Nephew and Little Yue do meet young Liu Qingge, Shang Qinghua, Mu Qingfang, and Su Xiyan though! Which gives Shen Yuan the opportunity to tell them all (mostly Su Xiyan) that if they're ever in trouble near his school, they can come to him for help. Hint hint.

This open invitation ends up being accepted broadly by a lot of traveling cultivators after the conference, who from then on treat Shen Yuan's school like a free motel whenever they're passing through. Plenty aren't even people SY met, but it seems his statement was taken as a general one to fellow righteous cultivators all around! Luckily, this has some advantages. Shen Yuan has no qualms running off anyone who tries to take unfair advantage of him or especially his kids or staff, and no shame in conscripting anyone who is decent enough to help teach his students, even if it's nothing to do with cultivating, and somehow word gets around and people start bringing school supplies, medicine, food, or other useful things along with them as gifts to help repay the hospitality. Young Liu Qingge comes by a lot on his way to and from various quests, or even seems to just turn up randomly sometimes (he comes to challenge YQ and SJ to fights), and SY's just like "I guess this is happening now" and teaches him to recognize the early signs of qi deviation and advises strongly against meditating in caves.

At one point a young Shang Qinghua turns up in one of the spare rooms, very obviously hiding an ice demon. Shen Yuan again is just like "I guess this is happening now" and shelters them until Mobei Jun has recovered, and sends a message to Cang Qiong that one of their An Ding caravans was attacked and their disciple is recovering under his roof but isn't well enough to travel yet. Much less stressful situation for Airplane (who is desperately trying to figure out what he did to manifest SJ's benevolent uncle from somewhere???)

Su Xiyan seems like the only person they met at the Immortal Alliance Conference who doesn't turn up at their door in a state of emergency at some point.

A few years later, there is a big scandal involving her and the demon emperor. Su Xiyan disappears, Huan Hua Palace accuses Tianlang Jun of plotting against the righteous sects, and Shen Yuan is even invited to the meeting where they try and rally everyone to go kill Binghe's dad. Naturally, he declines to participate in the witch hunt, but the major sects agree to it. By luck (or narrative fortune) Shen Yuan comes across Zhuzhi Lang on his trip back home, and mentions the ambush and his distaste for it (not knowing who ZZL is). ZZL warns Tianlang Jun and the confrontation goes very differently, especially since there's no Yue Qingyuan wielding Xuan Su.

It doesn't go well for the sects involved. Huan Hua Palace gets decimated. The Old Palace Master gets killed. Shen Yuan is like uhhhh that's... whoops? Didn't Luo Binghe need that in the future?? Fuck.

But the sect isn't wiped out completely, they just take a massive beating. Some of their younger disciples end up leaving and turning up on Shen Yuan's doorstep, for some reason. The manor house is becoming too small to account for all of these foundlings! They have to expand. Though the expansions would be a stretch to term a "palace" they end up occupying a much larger chunk of territory, and even investing in farmland and some storehouses to help support the sect. That's still not really a sect, of course. Even if a lot of the business that would have normally gone to Huan Hua Palace starts coming to them instead. Once HHP is back on its feet the stream will probably dry out. Probably?

Zhuzhi Lang starts hanging around. He's actually looking for Su Xiyan or their baby, dead or alive and per Tianlang Jun's instructions, but he uses Shen Yuan's school as base camp for his kind of hopeless efforts to find any traces of them, while also looking for ways to try and repay Shen Yuan. All the kids are just like "oh great, another weird man has fallen in love with Shizun -- someone go run interference" about it.

Some years later, an older woman and her young son turn up. Shen Yuan's off on a quest at the time, so SJ receives them. As is standard procedure he gives the woman a job and places the boy in classes, after giving him the aptitude tests. The kid is cute and precocious, so SJ uses him to distract YQ while he himself sneaks out to go join LQG on a monster hunt (and claim the valuable parts of the beast's remains for himself), and neither SY nor ZZL notice anything until SY's going over the paperwork for stuff he missed while he was gone. Since he procrastinated, it takes him like a week to find out that Luo Binghe is finally under his roof. He's going over the admission form right when SJ arrives with The New Adorable Child to try and distract SY enough that SY will let him go on a solo hunt -- as far as being distracted goes, it is way more effective than even SJ anticipated.

Then he has to figure out how to let ZZL know, so that ZZL can let Tianlang Jun know, so that Luo Binghe will have more family than just his mom and more resources than just a shabby little not-sect! But even once he figures it out and sets up the dramatic reveal, TLJ is just like "great! so can he just stay with you? he's probably fine there" which... irritates SY.

SJ fully conscripts Luo Binghe as a minion in his many cons. He never lost his street kid conman tactics, although he now uses them less as a ruthless survival tool or weapon and more to just get things to go his own way. LBH has the face and disposition of a little angel, which SJ no longer can pull off as a full grown adult, so he fills a gap. LBH also knows full well what's going, especially since a lot of SJ's tactics involve throwing LBH at SY like a smoke bomb.

Luo Binghe inevitably still develops a big fat crush on SY, so this is fine by him. Especially when he gets older, he starts bringing SY tea and making him breakfast and running his errands until even SJ is like "wait a minute, this little brat's stealing my job!" and by then it's too late. Luo Binghe is SY's personal assistant, the disciple at conman puppydog eyes has surpassed the master! While SJ was busy being like "I'm going to trick this idiot into doing my chores" LBH was going "I'm going to trick this idiot into giving me his job".

SY takes too long to officially name his school so everyone calls it the Shen Sect, much to his embarrassment.

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird in the Woods is... part 41

masterpost (this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3)

Danny’s hand rested on the open side of the car, drumming along to the radio. His head was tilted back, eyes closed to the breeze as the convertible wound through the forest. He resisted spreading his wings fully only because he didn’t want to accidentally take off. After all, he didn’t know if he could actually fly in this form.

Flying as a ghost would be easy, but that wasn’t really about the wings. Besides, as much as he was growing closer to the Wayens, he wasn’t ready to talk ghosts yet. People tended to struggle facing their own mortality, and Danny saw how much Jason’s supposed death was still a scar on the family. He didn’t want to add to to that pain.

Instead of giving into the urge, he distracted himself by asking, “Is it an insult if I say that you’re a better driver than I expected?”

Bruce chuckled. “I think it might be. Do I come across as that reckless?”

“The dad that you are? Never. But there’s a difference between driving in the city when Alfred is busy and flying down these winding roads like this,” Danny pointed out. He tipped his head over so that he could watch Bruce think how to respond. He was becoming very fond of all of the small, barely there expressions that Bruce made.

“I’ve raced F-1 cars before, you know,” Bruce said, clearly amused.

“I clearly did not know,” Danny teased back. “While I hear things, I’ve never actually looked you up, not outside of who you are as the driving force behind WE and your charities. And that was for job search reasons.”

“No checking into my past? My sordid affairs to see if I’m dating material? My sex tape? Tapes? I’m not sure what’s been leaked at this point,” Bruce said. Danny didn’t miss the way Bruce’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel.

Danny reached out and rested his fingers on Bruce’s arm for a moment. “I’m not dating your past. I’m dating the man you are now—the dad and the philanthropist and the person who keeps trying. And never, no one deserves to be exposed like that against their will.” Danny paused and then added in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Besides, I’d rather wait to learn any intimate things myself. It’s much more fun that way.”

Bruce’s grip relaxed again. “Well, it is a long weekend.”

“And a secluded one,” Danny agreed. It wasn’t that he needed the weekend to go that way, of course not, but it had been a long time. “Or so I’m assuming. Are you going to actually tell me about where we’re going now?”

“Can you be patient for about fifteen more minutes?” Bruce asked instead.

Danny gave an exaggerated sigh. “If I must.”

Bruce just gave a little smile and kept driving them down the winding roads at a pace that maybe was actually a little reckless, but Danny wasn’t going to complain. He trusted Bruce enough—and wasn’t that a thought— that it was easy just to enjoy the ride. It really was a beautiful area.

Before Danny knew it, Bruce was taking a turn that Danny hadn’t even noticed. The whole path (road seemed generous for the gravel way) was surrounded tightly by trees. Set well back from the road was a robust but utilitarian gate set into a tall fence.

Danny resisted the urge to frown and the chopped up wilderness. “Is the whole area fenced in?”

“No, just enough to discourage people coming in off the road,” Bruce answered as he keyed them in. “There are some signs up about entering private property, but the rest of the area is unfenced to allow the wildlife to roam. Which also means these woods are wild, and if you go out to be mindful of that.”

“I don’t think I’ll wander far without you,” Danny said as he leaned over on door to watch the trees pass. “They’re beautiful, but woods aren’t exactly my natural environment.”

“Says the man who’s apartment is halfway to a jungle.”

“Jungle, not woods,” Danny corrected with a laugh. “Besides, you’re the man with a conservatory.”

“One that is woefully empty,” Bruce said. “I’m afraid none of us are plant people. Plants were my father’s thing. While he was alive, the conservatory flourished. His orchid especially were something. It was one of my favorite places in the house to read.”

“I’m sorry that you don’t have that anymore.”

“It’s alright, time passes. Alfred help me press some of the flowers after their deaths, and a few of them a framed in the library. It’s a nice… nod to him and what he loved,” Bruce said with a soft smile.

That did sound nice. Danny made a mental note to reach out to Sam and see if she might be willing to help out with a little project. He was sure he could barter with information about his new relationship.

While Danny was thinking, the trees opened up a little and Danny got the first peak of where they would be staying. It was a cabin, wood and stone that set it lightly in the forest. It was like the cabin was a gentle guest, rather than an invader to the woods despite its size.

“Another of my father’s passion projects,” Bruce explained as he brought the car to a stop in the half round drive. “He felt getting out of the city now and then was important. I don’t do it as often as I should.”

“I can’t judge you,” Danny said. He stepped out of the car and raised his arms, and wings, over his head in a stretch. “Though I’m very much enjoying the excuse this weekend.”

“Good. The cabin has been freshened up, and the fridge is full with food that we only have to put in the oven,” Bruce said. “I thought we would settle in, have lunch, and then perhaps wander down to the lake? It’s not large, but it’s beautiful at sunset if we wanted to take a bottle of wine with and lounge.”

“Are you trying to get me to never leave?” Danny teased.

“Never,” Bruce said. He grabbed both of their bags from the trunk. “Lucius would kill me if I kept you away from WE for too long.”

“Too true,” Danny agreed with a laugh as he followed Bruce up the flagstone steps and into the grand cabin.

[alchemistc]

Based on my own post from earlier this evening because I can't stop thinking about it.

vanilla

He doesn't mean to see it. He swears. It's just - Tommy's laptop is right there and Buck's is all the way in the office and if he doesn't look up the lifespan of a Cecropia moth right now he's going to forget about it for a month only to remember in the middle of something vitally more important than watching Planet Earth reruns.

So he twists the thing around from its spot on the side table, boots it back up, types in Tommy's password (pA$$word3, because no one would ever guess that he'd be both so lazy and so creative in his laziness), and watches Firefox boot itself up. It's an older laptop, and Tommy doesn't take great care of it - case and point, he didn't even close out of his tabs, they're all still there, and - well. Shit.

That's the most ridiculous dildo he's ever seen.

Biggest, too.

Jesus.

Buck immediately forgets 100% of what he was doing.

And - and looking up Tommy's history is absolutely a line crossed - there's no reason for him to fucking spiral just because there's a bright purple dragon something on the screen with a base as wide as Buck's thigh. There's no reason why he should -

He clicks the search history and regrets it pretty immediately.

That kills two hours.

He has three more until Tommy's off shift, and now everything is worse. Because.

Okay so.

Like.

They have a pretty healthy sex life, Buck thinks. A year into Tommy and Buck Part Two and they still can't keep their hands off each other. And - so, like, sue him for preferring all the boring stuff he never really got to enjoy long term - the way he knows Tommy goes a little crazy when they're lying on their sides and Buck can just slip right in and press his lips to Tommy's shoulder, tuck his hand under Tommy's where he's got it on his chest, curl their fingers together and just breath into each thrust. Sue him for liking it when they're face to face and Tommy's looking up at him with the pads of his fingers tracing the shell of Buck's ear and he can see the love love love in his eyes, see the way his tongue curls out Buck's name like a prayer. Sue him for his fantasies always drifting to that sunny afternoon in their bed, Buck on his belly and Tommy everywhere around him, over him, inside of him, humming useless nothings into Buck's ear while the sweat from their skin eased the chafe of being pressed together from pelvis to collarbone.

Buck picks up his phone. Watches the familiar name ring out one, two, three - answered on the fourth ring.

"Am I not kinky enough, do you think?" Buck asks, and gets a drawn out moment of silence.

"Nope," Ravi says, and the call drops.

And who else is he gonna call, really? Hen and Chim? (Hard no, they nipped that in the bud back when Buck and Tommy were still in Part One) Maddie? Another line too far, but this one he doesn't feel like crossing today. Eddie? If he'd even pick up?

Buck dials out again.

Ravi picks up on the second ring. "Buck, I love you man, but I get a front row seat to your little love fest at least once a week, four hours a night. I am not equipped or willing to help you with your sex life."

Fair. That's fair. Boundaries are important. Ravi does an excellent job of setting his up and announcing where they are.

"It's just I found something in Tommy's browser that -."

"Absolutely not. I'll block your number for twenty-four hours."

"Right. Cool. Sure thing." Buck breathes.

"Talk to Tommy, if you're freaking out about it." Ravi caves, just a bit. "Every time. I say this every time, and it always works, doesn't it?"

True. On both accounts. When did Ravi become his go to guy?

(When he started picking up the phone whenever Buck called. When he came to Buck with his own shit and didn't apologize for it.)

"Yeah. You're right. I'm gonna talk to him."

"We're still on for Friday, right?"

Buck has to search his memory to figure out what he's referencing. Tommy's taking Ravi to the farmers market over in Venice Beach that Buck refuses to go to on principle because Sherri's Treats aren't even homemade. She gets the baked goods from Costco and decorates them with store brand icing.

"Talk to Tommy," Buck throws back, just to be a brat, and Ravi sighs.

"Touche."

He's still freaking out when the call ends three minutes later, and he doesn't want to have to pull this trigger.

Except. Like. It's still there. Right on Tommy's screen. Watching him.

The phone rings six times.

He's contemplating how ridiculous it is to leave a voicemail when Lucy answers with a groggy "'lo?"

"Am I not kinky enough?" Buck asks, and gets the start of a cackle and then a long, slow pause.

She's gonna hang up on him. She's absolutely going to -

"It's ten-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday, Buckley."

And it sure is.

God, this would never have happened if he hadn't started an update on his phone mid-episode.

"Walk me through it," she continues, all business, all of a sudden, and so Buck tells her, grateful for her hums and uhuh's as she starts her day. Buck talks over the sound of her brushing her teeth, and pouring her coffee, and absolutely doesn't mention that he thinks she should probably have better sleeping patterns while he spirals about Tommy being unsatisfied with the sex they have.

"Gonna break bro code here a little to tell you you have literally nothing to worry about there. Seriously. You're getting gold stars every night, I promise you."

"He's been looking up gimp suits and gags, Lucy!"

She's quiet on the other end, for a moment.

Then she starts laughing.

Again.

Which is a great feeling for Buck. He loves it when Lucy laughs at him.

"Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry. Honey those aren't for you."

Well, now he's kinda mad at the implication that Tommy would -

"Not for Tommy, either," she interrupts, like she knows where that spiral leads. "I forgot what time of year it was. This is new for you."

"What's new for me?"

He can picture the sly grin on her face as she pours something into a bowl - milk maybe. Then cereal.

God, what a psycho.

"Tommy and an army buddy of his have had this escalating prank war going on for like...seven, eight years? I don't know, I wasn't here at the start of it, but I guess it started as the most heterosexual man you've ever met trying to be a good ally to his newly out buddy and sending a set of butt plugs to the only address of Tommy's he had available."

Weird. But not the weirdest thing he's ever heard. "Which was?"

"Oh, Harbor. Yeah. Got it his first week there. So now every year on the anniversary they try to send each other shit at work that should technically be grounds for a sexual harassment claim from their coworkers. Last year Tommy got a fully custom furry suit. Dude probably dropped thirty grand on that thing."

He shouldn't ask. He definitely shouldn't -

"It was a horse. Because of his big fat -."

"I get the picture, thanks."

"So yeah. It's coming up on time for them to push a boundary a little too far and actually have someone complain about it, this time. They won't stop until one of them gets a write up."

It's kinda funny. Kinda sweet, too, in that really weird way military men are with each other. Irrationally, Buck kinda wants to slew foot the guy for being an unintentionally massive flirt.

Straight dudes are the literal worst at allyship, in the weirdest ways possible.

"He's out of state, so don't go getting territorial, Buckley."

Never gonna live that down.

"But seriously though? Back to the original point. Which is you freaking out that Tommy is unsatisfied in your sex life. Number one: talk to him. You guys are the actual worst. Always gotta have a second opinion before you bite the bullet and do the normal thing. Number two: I know too much. And I know you have nothing to worry about. Number three: when he gets home I want you to record his reaction when you turn the laptop screen on him like a spurned wife and send it to me. I'm having a bad day. I could use the entertainment."

"You just woke up."

"And had to talk an old coworker down from a ledge about how satisfying his sex life is with a current coworker. Bareback, no lube, just wake up and go."

"I think this also counts as sexual harassment."

"You started this conversation with 'am I kinky enough' so I'm not super concerned."

By the time he gets off the phone with Lucy he's very firmly on solid ground. And also wondering exactly how much Tommy actually talks about their sex life when he's not around. Tommy keeps things pretty close to the vest. He can't imagine he's going around bragging about that time he started crying when Buck hit his prostate right as he licked into his mouth and slid a hand up his arm to link their fingers together.

Maybe in less detail.

Something about seeing God, maybe. That seems more like his style.

---

Tommy has a routine, when he gets home from work. Keys hung up, jacket on the coat rack, duffle tucked into one of the cubbies of his makeshift mud room. Shoes under the bench, two minutes of head scritches for Goose as she meows her way down the hall to greet the only man she'll ever love.

(Buck's super cool about the fact that Tommy's breakup cat hates him. Totally chill.)

When Goose has had her fill and darted off to go bounce off the walls of the office, Tommy likes to amble in to whatever room Buck is in and drape himself across Buck's back for a moment, mouth pressed to the knob of Buck's spine, hands roaming for a moment before he manages a greeting.

He's making risotto for dinner when he hears the lock click in the front door.

He's ignoring Lucy's text reminding him to get a reaction shot.

He listens to Tommy talk back to Goose like he understands every "mrow" listens for the shuffle of socked feet down the hall, listens to him pad across the kitchen tiles, braces himself for the dead weight of Tommy against his back.

Tommy's got a hand halfway up his shirt when he mumbles into Buck's ear. "So I hear we have something to talk about."

"Ravi snitched."

"Ravi still thinks I'm the sensible one, of the two of us."

Buck snorts. Tips his head back against Tommy's shoulder and basks in the moment while Tommy buries his nose behind Buck's ear.

"Before I say anything else, I know you said I can use your laptop whenever I want but you should know I definitely snooped where I shouldn't and jumped to some wild conclusions. Which Lucy has already cleared up on your behalf, because apparently we're both too chicken shit to have a conversation without using a lifeline."

Tommy stills. "I didn't close out my browser session last time, did I?"

"You did not."

"And Lucy told you about the horse costume Dom sent me last year."

"She sure did. She very specifically called it a furry suit, though."

Tommy blows out an exasperated breath against his neck. "And you were freaking out because...?"

"I thought maybe you were bored with the sex we have."

That gets Tommy going. He pulls free just to get enough leverage to spin Buck to face him, hands on his hips and eyes catching Buck's like if he doesn't see Buck's eyes in the next five seconds he'll do something crazy, and Buck doesn't really know how he got so lucky but he's not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if it's a furry.

"Evan. Please understand when I say this I'm not exaggerating. Our sex is life altering. I want to have slow, quiet, vanilla sex with you until the day I die."

"Which won't be for like another fifty years."

Tommy hums. "I'm gonna be popping Blue Chew when I'm ninety-five and have two bum hips."

"Oh, so I have to do all the work?"

"Why do you think I dated younger?"

Buck has to kiss him about it. And then he has to pull back and duck his head to remind Tommy of the part he blazed right past. "Full disclosure, when I said I snooped I meant I went into your search history."

Tommy's chuckle shakes them both. "I figured. You go back far enough to find the single porn link in amidst all the shitty plastic used actuators for sale on eBay?"

"I'm not a masochist, Tommy." Figures he'd get so frustrated looking for a part to fix the rattling in the Jeeps dash he'd want to rub one out. Usually takes him more than a single video, though. Probably he'd decided he'd feel too guilty to actually get off until he had the part ordered.

Tommy shifts his weight a bit. Wedges a knee in between Buck's legs. His eyes get that sparkle to them that means he finds Buck to be an adorable menace. "How married to the risotto are you?" he asks, hands shifting from Buck's hips to behind his thighs.

"Not - not terribly." It had been a distraction from thinking about Tommy's army buddy, mostly. The recipe still isn't perfected and even though Tommy's complimented it every time, Buck can tell it's missing something and Tommy is just letting him figure it out on his own.

"Maybe we could order in and I can show you how satisfied I am with your service."

"We - that's definitely an option. On the table."

"How about this very sturdy counter, instead?"

They haven't done it somewhere not-the-bed in months.

Their knees aren't gonna thank them for it.

Buck has to attempt to ignore Tommy mouthing at his neck to remember if there are enough ice packs in the freezer for the both of them, right now.

"Yeah - yep, let's do that instead."

Tommy gets both hands under his ass and lifts.

He doesn't quite swoon over the move, anymore, but it still makes him more than a little giddy.

"Wait, did you decide on the dildo over the gimp suit, because if you're escalating at the same rate as your friend I think -."

"Can we talk about Dom after I get my satisfaction scores in, please?"

"Shutting up now."

"I don't believe that for a second," Tommy says, and then shuts him up with his mouth anyway, just for good measure.

[postmortemnivis]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. whether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

[hanasnx]

“ I CAN FEEL IT, CAN YOU FEEL IT, THERE MUST BE SOMETHING IN THE AIR ” — rafe cameron.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: kinktober; takes place in obx s4 e1 but there’s a slight change; also happy birthday @princessbrunette :) i wrote this for you in mind; and based off of the scene in f&f where dom picks letty up calling her his trophy. WARNINGS: spoiler warning for obx season 4 episode 1 ノ non canon compliant: i made rafe win the race ノ size difference ノ established relationship ノ objectification ノ impact play: ass smack ノ mild exhibitionism bcos of pda ノ praise ノ sexual content: p in v stuff ノ dirty talk.

Your feet sink into the sand as you traipse alongside RAFE CAMERON to his station in the race. His large hand envelopes yours, keeping you balanced as he leads you to his bike. The roar of revving fills your ears, loud enough for your boyfriend to have to lean down to your level to speak to you, walking you through the process and your role here. You’ve never been a flag girl before, but he told you she needs to be a “hot piece of ass” and he wants these boys heads still spinning when he wins the race. As a distraction, you were the only girl he wanted for the job.

“… and all you gotta do, baby, is make sure those guys are lookin’ at you. Show off a little something—just this once, I don’t care.” he explains, and you nod your head while brushing your hair out of your face from the wind. The two of you stand aside his bike and he mounts it, swinging a long leg over it. It creaks from his weight, and you roll your tongue between your lips. Without sunglasses, his gaze is narrowed, meeting yours in the light as he tugs you closer to him. “You look good. Prettiest girl on Figure Eight.” he assures you, the corner of his lips quirked as he checks you out. The tiniest booty shorts you could find and a stringy bikini top, you looked good enough to eat. If Rafe wasn’t so concerned with crossing the finish line while these cucks were still drooling over you, he’d be a little jealous they get such a treat. “Man, you are eye candy. Give me a twirl, c’mon.”

It eases your nerves, grinning bashfully to yourself as he raises your hand over your head, twisting on your toes to show him your outfit. He bites his lower lip hard at the sight of the underside of your ass hanging out of your shorts, and he can’t help but give you a tap. You whirl around from the swat, and catch his eyes flash up.

“Mm, baby.” he exclaims, talking about you like you’re dessert and he’s got a sweet tooth. He doesn’t give you a chance to scold him for smacking your ass around all these people, “C’mere,” he murmurs, yanking you to him until your body is draped over him on his bike. Your manicured nails brace on his chest while he steals a kiss, humming in surprise at him when he tilts his head to deepen it. Takes advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue along yours in a proper good-luck-kiss, which only makes for a string of spit to connect the two of you when you part. You breathe hard, chest rising and falling from thrill as you search his expression. There’s a glow of love-sickness in his eyes.

You try to milk more attention. “I don’t know if I can…” you begin, alluding to how shy you’re gonna be in front of all these people.

“Oh, don’t start that shit, you’re gonna be fine.” he dismisses, seeing right through you and shrugging you off him so you get it’s time to stop being clingy. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” He plucks his helmet up, and rounds his body to place it on his head while you reluctantly leave him.

When it’s time to start the race, you hold up two bandanas—donated by some guys trying to buy you drinks—and Rafe scoffs to himself, patting himself on the back for being such a genius. “Who wouldn’t be lookin’ at you?” he thinks, while he revs his bike. You even give the crowd a little shake, your girls strapped in your bikini top swinging teasingly right before you set them off with the bow of your bandanas and the low dip of your arch. Rafe could’ve sworn one guy glanced over his shoulder to check out your ass bent over because he lost control of his steering for a second after. The race was on, and you did your job exactly how your boyfriend wanted you to.

Some kook with too much time on his hands made his way through the crowd to invite himself into your atmosphere, watching you as you eagerly await Rafe’s return and your signal to drop the flags for the winner.

A voice too close to your ear alerts you, resulting in a minute jolt of your body when he speaks. “What are you doing after this?”

Brows furrow as you glance over your shoulder at him, “Oh, uh, I dunno right now.” you reply, but you’re not showing interest. It would depend on Rafe’s victory. You refocus, keeping an eye on the horizon and the roaring metal of competitive bikes. Rejoining the crowd’s enthusiasm, you react with them when someone wipes out.

“Me and the boys were gonna head to a kegger in the boneyard. You should come.” he tells you. Again, too close for your liking. He’s not particularly bad-looking, or grabby, but you don’t like how he’s standing right next to you and stooping to speak in your ear.

You face him again to respond, but the race takes your attention away, shutting your mouth to whirl around just in time to see Rafe drive back into view, sand kicking up behind his wheel.

After a close call, he wins, and when it’s safe, the adoring crowd cheers as it floods the scene to congratulate the riders. You’re one of them, beelining to Rafe without a second thought. He’s discarded his helmet, tossing it haphazardly to the sand as he meets you.

“Ah, there’s my trophy.” he says, hands clamping onto your waist to lift you from the ground. You squeal with delight, bracing on his shoulders and kicking your feet up. Slowly he lowers you until you can wrap your arms around his neck. He’s hot and sweaty, and smells like it too, inhaling his scent deeply as you embrace him and he spins you around. You’ve completely forgotten about that kook you left behind.

“Did so good, precious, did exactly what I told you to.” Rafe murmurs against your lips, whipping his bike jacket off behind him while you lead him by his jaw deeper into his place.

“Mhm, had to give them a show. Like you said.” you exhale, nodding fervently as you press yourself to him, desperate for some friction.

“Didn’t I say you’d be fine? Huh? What’d I say?” he goads, and stoops, signaling you to jump into his arms. He catches your legs, securing them around his waist before his hand cups your backside and his other pins you to him by the back of your neck.

“I did so good!” you reply, a little perkier than you’d meant to. It breaks him out into a grin against you, and he snickers through his nose. Bringing you to his bedroom, he settles your back onto the bed.

Lips locked, and bodies tangling together, he struggles to find a spare second to keep talking, “Gonna give me my prize? You gonna put out for the winner?” His hips surge, and a familiar hard outline sweeps across the crotch of your denim.

You nod, poking your tongue out in concentration as you help him to undress fully, and you wiggle out of your booty shorts. The peek of your tongue doesn’t go unnoticed, and Rafe’s lips overlays yours, sucking on the pink tip there toyingly. You relax into it, untensing them to melt into a real kiss as the tip of something else nudges against your sex. Already wet and aching from all the teasing today, you go limp at the promise of what’s to come. Bulging mushroom head lazily thumbing in and out of your slit makes your head throw back and jerk. “Rafe…” you whine. Sodden lips mouth at your cheek and jaw, working their way down to make out with your neck as his hips shallowly rut.

Ringed fingers clutch your face, tucking your chin in the web of his index and thumb. It faces you to him, and you look up at him with doe eyes and pretty brows in an upturn. He wants to watch your reactions as he pushes in deeper and deeper, finally sheathing as you cry out. It’s a stingy stretch, and he can see your want for it in the roll of your eyes and the flinch of your delicate expression. “Yeah, baby, gimme that trophy. That’s right.”