#i could release chapter 1 and 2 as is but 3 was really going to tie everything together

[twilight-amber]

One thing that I really enjoyed about the latest Deltarune chapters is how much the reveal at the end recontextualised Ralsei's character and the information he presents to us in his introduction. Below are some disjointed thoughts about that.

When Chapter 1 first released, I remember feeling that his explanation of the prophecy and how battle works (and his encouragement of a peaceful approach to resolving conflicts) seemed almost like an introduction to the rules of the world that might have to be subverted later - sort of in the same way that Flowey in Undertale initially establishes the rules of the world as "kill or be killed", which you then override by choosing nonviolence in order to reach the happiest ending.

This observation created a bit of dissonance between my Undertale player brain ("of course I want to approach all battles peacefully and spare everyone!") and my narrative-focused brain ("is the peaceful approach really the right one in the context of this story? is there some future twist that will completely recontextualise what we've been told about how the world works?")

When Chapter 2 released, I felt the dissonance less - it's painfully clear that the consequences of going out of your way to hurt people are Bad, so I felt much better about choosing the peaceful approach.

But I still wasn't sure what to make of Ralsei - why was he so insistent on us being nice to enemies, if he also believes that Darkners' only purpose is to support Lightners (as per the pre-castle conversation in Chapter 1)? Is it just because the prophecy says it's the way to go? Why does it matter so much to him?

To be clear: I never thought he was like. evil or anything. I figured he was doing the best he could with the information he had. But how accurate was that information? Could he be misguided in some way? He was clearly hiding stuff, and not knowing what he was hiding and why left some uncertainty.

But then we get to Chapter 4, and suddenly Ralsei's motivations become a lot clearer. The prophecy didn't say anything about kindness or mercy - that was his own personal advice, given in the hopes that the prophecy could be changed. He wasn't just acting according to the prophecy; he was genuinely trying to make a difference.

And now knowing that Ralsei has been encouraging Kris and Susie to be kind in hopes of altering the prophecy's narrative... it's particularly interesting in light of the fact that every chapter has a Moment where everyone you've befriended in the dark world shows up to help out - but only if you take the pacifist approach (with the exception of Chapter 2).

There's Chapter 1 with the king being overthrown. Chapter 2 with the Ultimate Group Project (Thrash Machine). Chapter 3's version of this is particularly interesting because it interacts with a part of the prophecy: Susie repairs Tenna offscreen if you recruit enough people to help (or just avoid violence?? reports seem varied on this one). The prophecy about Tenna still comes to pass (he's broken), but it's not the end for him.

And - I just found this out a day or two ago, actually - something similar happens in Chapter 4??? It seems that Jackenstein straight up falls to his death(?) in the scene just before the finale if you choose to be violent, but all the Sanctuary Darkners come to his rescue if you stay pacifist the whole way through.

Susie's comment about being nice paying off seems a lot more pointed in this context. Whether you choose a pacifist or violent approach is starting to have more obvious, more significant consequences.

At the end of Chapter 4, Ralsei makes it clear that he believes his own efforts (in guiding Kris and Susie towards nonviolence) have failed, because he was hoping that what's written in the prophecy would change, and it hasn't. But there's a big difference between "Tenna gets broken and stays broken forever" and "Tenna gets broken but is patched up and can still have a happy ending", even though both follow the letter of the prophecy. Maybe there's more than one way for that final prophecy to play out, too.

Susie's the one who has the conviction to fight against fate, but I want to believe that Ralsei's efforts had some meaning as well, even if we can't see it yet.

[lordsardine]

.

[checkeredflagggs]

The Story of Us: Chapter 6

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 6 of 7, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky

a/n4: all this was supposed to be in part 5 but everyone got really chatty in the text messages…also you can blame @sinofwriting for the cliffhanger, they encouraged me 😈😈

GO READ PART 5 FIRST!!

Masterlist | Taglist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Valentine’s Day

logansargeant

liked by y/n, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, and 1,992,813 others

tagged: y/n

logansargeant: I find myself running home to your sweet nothings…you’ve been such a large part of my entire life, I don’t think I’d be able to recognize myself without you. This is just a small thing really (especially compared to everything you’ve done for me) but thank you y/n for being my constant support, for being by my side, for being my biggest cheerleader, supporter, defender…for years you’ve watched me chase my dreams and now that I get to have you actually in my corner while I do it? A dream come true

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user1: ok who’s cutting onions

↳user2: I knnnnnoooowwwww 😭😭😭

↳user1: who knew Florida boy could be so romantic…

oscarpiastri: yeah we’re all asking for you to stop raising the bar thanks

↳logansargeant: not a chance

↳y/n: just get on our level

↳oscarpiastri: why am I friend with you guys again

↳logansargeant: we grew on you like mold

↳user3: this trio is something I didn’t know I needed…

user4: so so so glad mother has a man who knows her worth

↳user5: right?? He’s a good one

user6: he’s getting love songs sung about him and writing such lovely things back…google how to be Logan Sargeant?

↳user7: this!!

↳user8: I don’t know who to be more jealous of…

alex_albon: I didn’t know you had such a poetic soul Logan…

↳logansargeant: for y/n? Of course I do liked by y/n

↳alex_albon: oh you’re gonna be a mushy one aren’t you…

↳oscarpiastri: you really have no idea

jensonbutton: first congrats kid! But y/n? How’d you pull that one off?

↳logansargeant: me? I had nothing to do with it. Y/N is the mastermind in this relationship!

↳y/n: you knew all along what I was doing

↳logansargeant: and I wouldn’t change anything

↳y/n: neither would I!

↳jensonbutton: oh go be gross somewhere else please

↳y/n: why? Afraid of looking bad?

↳user9: love that we’re getting catty y/n interacting with the gird now! liked by logansargeant

y/n: oh my lovely Logan…there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be than supporting you

↳logansargeant: have I mentioned I love you lately?

↳y/n: not in the last 10 minutes at least!

↳logansargeant: You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.

↳y/n: Mr. Darcy and donuts? A+++

↳user10: he got you donuts?

↳y/n: he did!

↳user11: where can I get my own Logan?? liked by y/n

Bluesky

Logan’s Email

williamsracing

liked by y/n, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, user and 2,982,915 others

tagged: logansargeant, alex_albon, oscarpiastri

williamsracing: Team Torque is back at it this week! This time it’s all about relationships, both on and off track, with special guest Oscar Piastri!

view all comments

user12: god this is everything I ever needed

user13: this is Logan —> 😍😍

user14: oh my god what happened? I can’t get the episode to load…

↳user15: so much ngl you are missing a lot! But most of it was the boys publicly simping for their girlfriends (like 95% of was talking about how amazing their girls are)

↳user16: as they should!

↳user15: oh I’m not arguing! But also Logan talked a lot about y/n’s love songs and how they came to be

↳user14: oh my god I’M MISSING THAT???

↳user15: I’ll dm you don’t worry

user17: ok but love story being written while they were at a cousins summer wedding?

↳user18: that’s just perfect…

↳user14: really 🥺🥺??

↳user17: yes! It was one of y/n’s cousins wedding and she brought Logan as a guest. He woke her up one night by throwing small pebbles at her window

↳user17: one of her relatives caught them running around after their curfew and they had to sneak around together after that cause they were ‘grounded’

↳user14: that's just 😍😊🥰

↳user17: right? Finally y/n’s parents got involved and let them out of their restrictive ‘grounding’

↳user14: how are they so romcom???

user19: I was right on choosing enchanted as my favorite

↳user14: spill!

↳user19: 😂😂 Logan snuck into one of y/n’s sponser’s? Partners? party (Idk Logan was kinda vague on whose party it was) to see her

↳user19: it was a masquerade but y/n recognized him immediately and they spent all night dancing with each other

↳user19: this was during y/n’s first big tour and they hadn’t seen each other in a while and Logan says they were both worried about how strong the relationship actually was with the distance

↳user19: that’s why the song asks who he loves and she’s asking for it to be the beginning not the end

↳user19: she apparently wrote it that night after the party and released it within the week

↳user14: everything I learn from this episode (WHICH I STILL CANT WATCH WIFI YOU SUCK) just gives me all the feels

user20: user14 mine was another song talked about and I guess it was one of the last ones wrote for the album and it was written on the floor of their new apartment

↳user14: gimme gimme gimme

↳user20: 🤣

↳user20: not much more to know — she bought them an apartment shortly after her 17th birthday (her family moved back to Florida) and they had some friction when they were actually living together

↳user20: apparently they had an argument, she ran out the door, and he followed right after her

↳user14: 🙏 WiFi please. Please. I need to actually watch this

user21: ok but my favorite part was Oscar laughing at Logan when Alex brought up All Too Well (10 Minute Version)

↳user21: user14 Alex brought up that song because it really talks about like a bad unhealthy relationship and a bad breakup and toxicity…

↳user21: Logan almost burst a lung laughing (seriously it’s like 2/3 minutes of it) but he finally manages to calm down and explain

↳user21: apparently she wrote it at a restaurant while waiting for him because he got held up in traffic

↳user14: seriously??

↳user21: yup! He had had to make an emergency stop because he saw some kittens on the side of the road and his phone was dead

↳user21: so she was waiting on him on their anniversary and he was making a stop at the vets to make sure the kittens were all healthy

↳user21: he made it right before she got in her car to leave and he like ran over to her car with a kitten in one hand and petal-less flowers in the other

↳user21: she polished up and released the song and it’s like an inside joke between them now

↳user14: are you serious??? One of the most heartbreaking songs is a joke for them??

↳user21: yup 😂😂

logansargeant

liked by y/n, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 3,293,916 others

tagged: y/n

logansargeant: that feeling when your girlfriend gets the entire MetLife Stadium to wish you luck from the other side of the world

Thank you everyone for the well wishes!

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user22: you got this Logan! Monaco will be good to you

↳user23: it better be!

y/n: all the well wishes and best of luck my love!

↳logansargeant: I’ll win it for you babe

↳user24: winning in THAT Williams is definitely a true declaration of love liked by y/n

oscarpiastri: wait where’s my well wishes??

↳logansargeant: how about you get a world famous girlfriend first then ask that question?

↳lilyzneimer: hey!

↳logansargeant: nothing against you lily of course!

↳y/n: be nice to lily Logan!

↳logansargeant: I am! I’m just trying to make fun of Oscar

↳y/n: well that’s ok then!

↳oscarpiastri: hey! Liked by lilyzneimer, y/n, logansargeant

charles_leclerc: what a beautiful moment

↳y/n: don’t worry Charles! We’ll wish you luck tonight

↳carlossainz55: Please dont worry about him — he’ll respond later. He just straight up fainted first

↳y/n: 😂😂

user25: go prove Williams wrong Logan!

↳user26: am I the only one that thinks something fishy is happening with Williams?

↳user25: oh absolutely not. I know it’s only been a week since y/n and Logan went official but they haven’t capitalized on it at all

↳user27: it doesn’t have to mean anything? They’re probably just as shocked as us

↳user25: oh mark my words. Something fishy is up

Bluesky

user28: they are Not wrong

↳user29: man those free practices were awful

user30: James Vowles I’m in your fucking walls

↳user31: fuck his walls I’m chasing after him with a goddamn bat

↳user32: start treating Logan with respect! jv.f1

user33: Seriously vowles?? Logan has brought you more points this season than Alex??

↳user34: right?

↳user35: this is only Logan’s second season (in a WILLIAMS) and he’s already outperforming his more experienced teammate!

↳user33: ALL GOOD POINTS jv.f1

user36: jv.f1 DO BETTER

↳user37: THEY ARE BOTH YOUR DRIVERS TREAT THEM THE SAME

user38: jv.f1 go get an attitude adjustment

↳user39: we’re the Captains now and we say fucking treat your drivers as people jv.f1

↳user40: that’s fucking right

see more comments

y/n_gossip

liked by y/n, logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and 3,724,618 others

tagged: logansargeant, alex_albon

y/n_gossip: another Team Torque episode came out! And it’s still all about y/n!

view all comments

user41: another one so soon???

↳logansargeant: tbh we got bored 😂

user42: y/n is really hosting a dinner party for everyone?

↳logansargeant: she is! She’s really excited to actually meet everyone I’ve been talking about

↳user42: that’s so precious

oscarpiastri: Lily has been talking nonstop since y/n texted her

↳logansargeant: y/n is also really excited

↳user43: the fomo I have right now…

alex_albon: raise your hand if this is the only thing you’ve heard about recently? 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳carlossainz55: 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳charles_leclerc: 🙋🏼‍♂️

↳maxverstappen1: 🙋🏼‍♂️

↳danielricciardo: 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳pierregasly: 🙋🏼‍♂️

↳georgerussell63: 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳landonorris: 🙋🏼‍♂️

user44: ok but what are the chances of everyone going to the tour again beforehand?

↳user48: highly likely I’m guessing

↳lilymhe: oh it’s happening!

↳charles_leclerc: oui

y/n_gossip

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 778,445 others

tagged: pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, carmenmmundt, aussiegrit

y/n_gossip: it’s Philadelphia night 1! We know from the recent Team Torque episode that most of the grid were planning on going to the tour again ahead of the Montreal race this weekend!

view all comments

user49: I saw Lando, Max F, Max V, and Danny Ric arrive!

↳user50: what I wouldn’t give…

user51: my sister managed to get a picture with the Haasbands!

↳user52: I did! And I traded bracelets with them 💜💜

oscarpiastri: definitely an experience

↳logansargeant: sorry you got left with Lando!

↳landonorris: I wasn’t that bad!

↳maxverstappen1: you absolutely were

alex_albon: the friendship bracelet trading business is very serious…

↳user54: of course it is!

↳logansargeant: y/n is loving it!

↳user55: you gave her our bracelets?

↳logansargeant: gave? No no no — I earned those bracelets. But she does have a collection of them and she loves seeing people trade them!

↳user55: omg 😳

user56: this is still the best thing happening this year…

↳user57: it really really is

y/n

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 13,294,638 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: Montreal you were so beautiful…congratulations on the podium Logan, it was certainly well earned!

view all comments

logansargeant: you are clearly my lucky charm and I’m going to need you to come to all my races from now on

↳y/n: as often as I can and as soon as my tour ends, my love!

↳user58: I want what you guys have…

oscarpiastri: what a race mate!

↳logansargeant: thanks dude!

↳oscarpiastri: such an American…

↳logansargeant: you knew that already!

user59: what an amazing fucking race today Logan!

↳user60: I have no idea what f1 is but go Logan!

↳user61: I’m living for the new formula 1 fans…

↳user60: it’s been fun learning! So far most everyone has been really nice and welcoming!

↳user62: the more the merrier!

alex_albon: good job Logan!

↳logansargeant: congrats to you too! P6!

↳alex_albon: 🎊 🥳🥳 definitely been a Williams weekend!

user63: and still jv.f1 can’t be actually happy can he???

↳user64: oh good I’m glad someone else caught it!

user65: jv.f1 be happy for both of your drivers challenge failed!

Bluesky

user66: please be a new chief engineer!

user67: Adrien Newey to Williams?!?

user68: dare I say…new team principal??

↳user69: you dared. And you did…

↳user68: come on! I can’t be the only one thinking it!

↳user69: oh no you’re not…just that I would never say it

user70: watch it just be new liverly or something

↳user71: that’s not big changes…

lilymhe posted a story, iamrebeccad posted a story, francisca.cgomes posted a story

[getting ready for dinner! @.y/n][an amazing hug a day keeps the doctor away @.y/n][the best grwm are with best friends @.flavy.barla @.y/n]

alex_albon replied are you gonna be done literally any time soon?

↳lilymhe I’m getting to know my new best friend. Leave us alone

user72 replied so so so jealous

user73 replied you went from creepy flirting to closed friends so fast…tell me your ways

carlossainz55 replied taking notes 📝

↳iamrebeccad not your hugs — just hers!

↳carlossainz55 corazón…

user74 replied I don’t know who to be more jealous of…

user75 replied which star did you wish upon?

pierregasly replied you’re still not ready?

↳francisca.cgomes you can’t rush perfection…

↳pierregasly I’m not rushing y/n…I’m rushing you!

↳francisca.cgomes you’re sleeping on the couch tonight

user76 replied I’m gonna need a full YouTube video on this grwm…

user77 replied Netflix get in there stat

user78 replied who all is there getting ready for the dinner???

alexandrasaintmleux posted a story, lilyzneimer posted a story, yoursister posted a story

[cheers 🥂 to new friends @.y/n][ready for night out on the town @.y/n, @.carmenmmundt][what a night…thanks for the invite @.y/n]

charles_leclerc replied 🥂🥂

↳alexandrasaintmleux she’s so lovely Charles…

↳charles_leclerc you both are Mon amour

user79 replied how the turntables…

user80 replied ok let’s just switch lives right now…

oscarpiastri replied finally!

↳lilyzneimer don’t you dare try to rush us Oscar! We’ll get there when we get there!

↳oscarpiastri we could have already been done with dinner if you guys were on time!

↳lilyzneime: leave us alone!

user81 replied you guys are all so pretty…

user82 replied absolutely stunning

y/n replied thanks for coming Lily…I didn’t even understand myself how nice it would be to have a friend when meeting everyone

↳lilyzneimer of course! And don’t worry — they already said they’d be on their best behavior…

↳y/n 😂😂

y/n replied now stop whining! I took you to a race and to a fancy dinner

↳yoursister no! Now I wanna go shopping! And to Silverstone! And Vegas!

↳y/n fine to the shopping, maybe to Silverstone, and you have to ask mom for permission for Vegas

↳yoursister you’re no fun!

↳y/n that’s me! The no fun sister

logansargeant replied thanks for coming — y/n was worried about meeting everyone and I know you coming with us helped her a lot

↳yoursister of course! Invite me to more places and events!

↳logansargeant Vegas is up to your mom

↳yoursister damn it

user83 replied now that’s a slumber party I want to be invited to…

user84 replied the fomo…

user85 replied no pictures of the actual dinner??

logansargeant

liked by y/n, landonorris, estebanocon and 2,97,455 others

logansargeant: dinner was lovely. Thanks to everyone who came!

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y/n: thanks for helping me out this all together Logan!

↳logansargeant: anything for you sweetie

user86: damn she really got the entire grid to come…

↳user87: not only the current grid but past members AND the reserves and academy drivers too?

↳user88: the power she has…

charles_leclerc: it was a lovely dinner! Thank you y/n and logansargeant!

↳y/n: thanks for coming!

↳charles_leclerc: I wouldn’t have missed it

oscarpiastri: such a great evening! Thanks y/n

↳y/n: anything for my favorite Aussie

↳aussiegrit: me?

↳y/n: no

↳danielricciardo: me?

↳y/n: close but sorry

↳oscarpiastri: what do you mean close???

↳y/n: Danny didn’t spend years thinking he was Logan’s best friend! liked by logansargeant, danielricciardo

user74: ok I know who to be jealous of…

↳user89: all of them?

↳user74: all of them!

user90: I would kill all of you to be at that dinner

↳user91: extreme but I understand

lewishamilton: it was lovely to meet you y/n 🖤

↳y/n: same! And our conversation was enlightening!

↳user92: XNDA collab?!?

Bluesky

user93: you better say sike right now

user94: this is obviously a joke

user95: they can’t be talking about y/n and Logan right??

↳user96: they better not be!

user97: he’s done better then Alex has this entire season!!!

↳user98: I’m going to riot if this is true…

↳user99: you better check Williams social right now oh my god

Bluesky

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala--67 @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @theendofthematerialgworl @angstyntasty

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 3

Word Count: 9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, mentions of suicide, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake @letgobro @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leialmela

AN: It seems like these chapters just get longer and longer xDD. Hope yall don't mind! This is also on my A03 if you feel its too long to read on tumblr. Please heed the warnings and don't read this if you're sensitive to the subjects. Also! Reader has no specific skin tone, I just use images I think represent the chapter well, you can imagine her however you want! If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know, also please make sure your tumblr settings allow you to be tagged! <3

"I hate you," you whisper, your voice barely audible, muffled by his chest. The words come out broken, hollow, lacking the fire they once carried. But it’s all you can manage, the last flicker of resistance in a sea of overwhelming fatigue. "I know," Sylus replies, his voice soft and almost indulgent, as though your hatred is just another part of the game to him. He holds you tighter, his hand continuing to caress your hair. "But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. You’re mine now. Hate me all you want, I’ll still take care of you."

Read Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4

You ease yourself into the bath, the water just a touch hotter than you'd like, enveloping your skin in a near-burning sensation. It’s almost too much, the heat prickling at your body, but you stay still, letting the warmth slowly settle around you. Steam rises in soft, curling tendrils, and you can feel the tension in your muscles begin to release, even as the heat clings to you, almost suffocating in its intensity. Your breath catches for a moment, but soon you adjust, your body reluctantly surrendering to the soothing, yet overwhelming, embrace of the water.

Despite the searing heat, you slowly begin to lose yourself in thought. When was the last time you'd allowed yourself to truly relax since this whole nightmare began? As much as you hated to admit it, the water felt good—comforting even—offering a fleeting sense of escape. For once, your worries seemed to dissolve into the bathwater, sinking like stones to the bottom. No thoughts of impending doom, no fear lurking at the edges of your mind. Just you, the gentle bubbles, and the soft, soothing scent of cherry shampoo drifting in the steam.

And no Sylus.

Your face twists into a scowl at the very thought of him. No. This was supposed to be your time, a moment for yourself. You can’t let him invade this too. Don’t think about him, you urge yourself. Focus on the bath. Focus on the warmth. Desperate to banish any trace of him from your mind, you sink lower into the water, leaving only your nose and eyes above the surface, your breath shallow as you try to disappear beneath the heat.

But it doesn’t work. His presence lingers in your thoughts like a shadow you can't shake—the memory of his touch, his voice, the sickly sweet promises he’d whisper after those twisted "sessions."

Before you can stop yourself, you plunge fully beneath the water, submerging yourself entirely, as if you could drown his memory along with your thoughts—perhaps even drown yourself if that’s what it takes to make it all stop.

The deafening roar of water fills your ears, muffling the world around you. Instinct keeps your breath held tight, but a dark thought persisted—what would happen if you really… let go? Sylus has made it clear he has no intention of releasing you. Maybe this, right here, is your only way out.

A tightness coils in your chest as your body begins its primal fight for air. The burning need to breathe claws at your lungs, but there’s no panic—just a calm, almost eerie resolve. Slowly, deliberately, you part your lips, ready to let the water rush in. This is it. Your escape. The only freedom Sylus can't take from you.

Death.

You wonder what kind of face he would make when he would discover your barely warm body bobbing in the bath water, having escaped the clutches of his captivity in a way he could not undo.

You wished you'd be around to see it.

Just as the warm sensation of water touches the back of your throat, a sharp tingling prickles across your scalp. A second later, you're violently yanked from the water, gasping for air as the bathroom floods back into focus. You blink wildly, clearing the stinging bathwater from your eyes, only to be met by a familiar face.

"Why willingly subject yourself to waterboarding?" Sylus asks, his tone laced with disappointment, as if you’ve failed some unspoken test. You glare at him angrily, grabbing at the grip he has on your hair.

"Don't tell me I'll have to supervise your baths too?"

"Let go!" you shout, clawing at his fingers, desperately trying to free your hair from his grip. To your surprise, he does, and you quickly retreat to the far edge of the tub, pressing your back against the cool porcelain. Water clings to your skin, dripping down your face as you try to steady your breath. His eyes roam over you, calculating, as if taking in every detail. Suddenly self conscious of your naked figure, you hug your arms around your breasts. You notice, for the first time, the shopping bags dangling from his other hand. He sets them down with unnerving care before casually crossing the bathroom to grab a stool.

You watch warily as he pulls it up beside the tub, seating himself directly across from you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I wasn’t trying to kill myself," you snap, your voice sharp as you avoid his gaze. "I’d rather not give you more reasons to watch me."

Sylus chuckles softly, clearly unfazed by your defiance, as if your words barely register. Without another glance at you, he begins rummaging through the bags at his feet, his movements methodical and unhurried. After a moment, he pulls out a small white box, and you narrow your eyes, watching as he carefully peels away the packaging. Something small and silver tumbles into his palm, catching the light.

"Nail clippers?" you ask, disbelief creeping into your voice.

He nods, then casually tugs down the collar of his shirt, revealing the jagged red scratches you had raked across his skin during the last time he had forced himself on you. The sight of them makes you smirk—small, uneven lines, but they’re there, vivid reminders that you hadn’t gone down without a fight. You can almost feel your nails digging into him again, that brief moment of satisfaction before he'd pinned you, your resistance crushed beneath his weight.

"The first step in taming an angry kitten," he muses with a grin, "is taking her claws." His voice is disturbingly light, almost playful, as he reaches out toward you.

You hesitate, staring at his outstretched hand. Your instincts scream at you to pull away, but what choice do you have? Reluctantly, you slip your hand into his, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as he curls his hand around yours. His grip is firm but not harsh, his skin warm against your own, the casual dominance in his touch making your stomach churn. He watches you closely, his gaze never wavering, as if daring you to resist.

"Isn't that called declawing?" you mutter bitterly, trying to keep your voice steady as you avert your eyes. You watch instead as he presses the clippers to your nails, the metal cool against your fingertips. The soft snip of each nail being cut echoes in the quiet bathroom, a steady, unnerving rhythm.

Sylus smirks, tilting his head as he replies, "Oh?" His tone is amused, almost mocking. "Would you rather I pull them out instead?" His voice remains calm, and you're unsure if he's joking or not.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. Each clip of the clippers feels more invasive than the last, stripping away not just your nails, but a part of yourself—your small weapon of defiance.

It struck you as odd. Just yesterday, the two of you had been locked in a bitter struggle on his bed—panting, groaning, bodies slick with sweat, fighting for entirely different goals. For him, dominance. For you, escape. And now here he was, calmly and methodically clipping your nails, the act almost tender, as if you were lovers sharing an intimate moment.

Neither of you speaks until he finishes. Sylus turns your hands over slowly, inspecting his work with the same detached precision, ensuring he’s clipped them short enough. Finally satisfied, he releases your hand, letting the clippers fall from his grasp with a metallic clatter against the bathroom floor. You frown down at the newly cut length of your nails, feeling stripped of yet another small defense.

Before you can dwell on the thought, he leans over the bath, his face inching dangerously close to yours. There's hardly any space to retreat, and you’re forced to face him, your breath catching in your throat as his presence looms over you. His lips find the soft skin of your neck, leaving light, deliberate kisses that send a shiver of tension through your body.

Sensing your stiffness, he chuckles under his breath, the sound low and familiar, before cupping your face in his hand. His fingers are firm, cradling your jaw with unnerving gentleness.

"Relax..." he whispers, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, almost teasing kiss. "I won’t do anything now. Didn’t I promise you a break?"

His words echo in your mind, bringing with them the memory of his promise from this morning. Instead of threatening you for obedience, he’d dangled a twisted form of kindness—a reward, rather than punishment. A carrot, not a stick.

Promising that if you didn't put up a fight this morning, that would be the only time he would be inside you that day.

You would have been an idiot to refuse such an offer. Almost daily assaults had left you feeling sore and exhausted. Sure, you knew he was offering you crumbs of kindness as a way to train you into obedience but you were much stronger than that. He wouldn't break you so easily.

You simply hummed and nodded in agreement, giving him a small kiss back. You had come to learn that the quicker you returned his affection, the sooner he would relent. It worked, as he almost immediately smiled and leaned back on the stool. He suddenly reaches is arm up and looks at the watch on his wrist.

"Come on out. I bought a few things for you, sweetie," Sylus says softly, his eyes drifting back to your still-exposed body. You tense instinctively, sinking lower into the water as if it could shield you from his gaze. His words may be gentle, but the weight of his attention feels oppressive, suffocating.

Sensing your discomfort, he lets out a quiet laugh. "I’ll turn around. Just don’t try drowning yourself again," he chuckles, as though reading your mind. True to his word, he turns his back to you, but the tension in the room remains thick, your heart pounding in your chest. You wish, more than anything, that he would just leave, give you a moment of peace, but you know better than to ask.

With a deep breath, you grip the edge of the tub, steadying yourself as you rise from the water. The cool air hits your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the bath, and your wet feet make a quiet slap against the cold tile as you step out. Quickly, you reach for the white towel resting on the sink and begin to dry yourself, moving with an urgency spurred by your skepticism that Sylus will stay turned away for long.

As you dry yourself, you notice something unexpected—when you reach between your legs, your hand freezes. A slight gasp escapes your lips as you spot it: crimson streaks, trailing down your inner thigh. For a moment, you stare in disbelief, watching the droplets of blood slowly slide down your leg. Then, reality hits, and you frantically press the towel to your skin, catching the blood before it can reach the floor.

"What's wrong?" Sylus asks, his voice suddenly alert as he turns his head, catching your gasp. His eyes lock onto the bloodstained towel, his posture shifting as he steps toward you, concern etched across his face. "Are you hurt?"

You swallow hard, a strange mixture of emotions flooding through you. "My period..." you say softly, almost under your breath, but then, a smile creeps onto your face, one you can't suppress.

Relief crashes over you like a tidal wave. You’ve never been so happy to see blood in your life.

You aren’t pregnant. You aren’t pregnant.

Your mind races, the implications still sinking in. It’s not over, but for now, you’re safe. Your hands shake as you pull your gaze from the red stain, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts. Then, a creeping awareness settles in—you aren’t alone.

Sylus is standing behind you. You feel his presence before you see him, the weight of his silence pressing against you. You quickly wipe the smile from your face, the relief vanishing as you turn slowly to face him.

"My period... it’s just my period," you whisper, your voice trembling, barely able to hold steady. You try to read his face, desperate for any sign of how he’s reacting. His expression shifts—concern morphs into a frown, and then... nothing. His face goes blank, like a mask slipping into place. You search frantically for any flicker of emotion—anger, frustration, relief—but it’s as though he’s walled himself off, unreachable.

Was he angry? Disappointed? You couldn’t tell, and that terrified you. Your stomach twists in knots, anxiety bubbling up again. The relief you felt moments ago is quickly replaced by a new dread. One disaster averted, but what now?

"Right," he says calmly, his voice devoid of any warmth, as though this is just another mundane detail in his well-controlled world. He reaches for the bloodied towel in your hands, his movements smooth and deliberate, like nothing about this situation surprises him. "Don’t worry about this. Just finish dressing."

He leans down, pulling open the cabinet under the sink. Your heart skips a beat as he sets several packages of pads and tampons on the counter, each one the exact brand and size you regularly use. A cold chill runs down your spine. How long had he been watching you before bringing you here? How much does he already know? The intimate knowledge of your life, right down to your feminine products, feels like another layer of control—a calculated invasion disguised as care.

"If you don’t want to use these, I’ll have Luke and Kieran get different ones," he says, his tone disturbingly casual, as though this conversation is perfectly normal.

Your throat tightens. "No, these are fine... thank you."

He gives a slight nod, but it’s mechanical, his face still unreadable, and he turns to leave, collecting the rest of your discarded clothes from the bathroom floor. His steps are quick but unhurried, a man always in control of his actions, of everything around him. He leaves you standing there, shaken, and once again, you feel small under his gaze. Whatever he’s feeling, he’s locked it away. You’ll never know unless he decides to let you.

The door closes behind him, and you’re left alone with your thoughts—and the creeping realization that you may never be truly alone again.

After gathering enough courage to leave the bathroom, you cautiously crack open the bedroom door. You peer out, spotting Sylus lounging on the leather sofa, his eyes glued to his phone. His posture is relaxed, casual, as if nothing unusual has happened. But the moment you step into the room, he looks up—his gaze sharp, as though he’s been waiting for you.

"Took you long enough," he says, a smirk playing at his lips, amusement evident in his voice. The cold, distant air he had in the bathroom has vanished, replaced with the easy confidence you’ve come to expect. He’s back to being the Sylus you recognize, the one who shifts between charm and control like flipping a switch.

You force a smile, trying to match his casual tone. "Yeah, well, drowning myself was starting to seem tempting again," you quip, keeping your voice light. You move past him toward the bed, wanting nothing more than to put some distance between the two of you. But before you can get far, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist with a gentle but firm grip. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, freezing you in place.

His touch isn’t rough, but there’s something in it that holds you captive, a subtle reminder of the power he holds. You glance down at his hand, then back up at him, unsure whether to pull away or let him guide the moment.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, his voice soft now, almost concerned. But the question hangs in the air, heavier than it should be.

"Oh! Uh... yeah?" you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. As much as you wanted to ignore him and crawl into bed, the thought of food was too tempting to resist. Sylus stands, his grip on your wrist still firm, tugging you toward the bedroom door.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him press his finger against the scanner beside the door. Why is he letting you this close? The lock hums and with a soft click, the door swings open. You stare at it, a thousand questions racing through your mind.

He turns back to you, his playful demeanor from moments ago evaporating in an instant, replaced by something darker, colder. His eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, the atmosphere feels suffocating.

"Behave," he says, his voice low and serious. "Don’t wander off without me, and if you try anything... you won’t leave this room or the bed for weeks. Understood?"

The threat in his words chills you to your core. You're frozen in place, trying to process what’s happening. Is this real? Are you dreaming? Why now? The door stands open before you, a symbol of freedom, but it feels more like a trap, a carefully laid test. The air between you crackles with tension. One wrong move, and you know there will be consequences.

You shake your head quickly, pushing aside any fleeting thoughts of rebellion. Not now. Not yet.

Trying to break the moment, you turn your gaze toward the unopened bags still sitting in the corner of the room. "Didn’t you say you bought me some stuff?" you ask, your voice tentative, eyes flicking toward the bags. "I’m curious about what’s in them."

Anything to steer the conversation away from the potential threat.

"It’s okay, you can look at them later" Sylus says, his voice smooth and reassuring as he swings the door open wider. The invitation seems casual, but there’s something unsettling about how easily he offers it. His hand loosens slightly around your wrist, though he doesn’t let go completely, as if to remind you that the freedom he's offering has limits.

Your eyes flick from the open door to his face, searching for any hint of what’s really going on. His expression is calm, almost too calm, as if he’s in complete control of the situation, confident that you won’t dare make a move without his permission. The open door, the promise of something beyond this room, suddenly feels less like an escape and more like a stage he's set for you.

Every instinct in your body screams that this isn’t as simple as it looks. It’s a test, another subtle power play to remind you where you stand. The reassurance in his voice only deepens the pit in your stomach. He’s letting you out, but on his terms.

You force a nod, trying to swallow the growing unease. "Okay," you murmur, though the word feels foreign in your mouth, like you’re agreeing to something you don’t fully understand.

Sylus smiles—a small, practiced curve of his lips, but his eyes remain unreadable. He steps aside, making room for you to pass, yet the tension in the air doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, wrapping itself around you like a noose tightening with every step you take toward the door.

As you step cautiously past the threshold, the hallway beyond the door reveals a world of striking opulence. The air feels cooler, heavier, carrying the scent of leather and polished stone. Beneath your bare feet, the floor is a dark, sleek tile, almost black, with a high gloss that catches the low light and reflects distorted, shadowy images of the surroundings. Each step echoes slightly, the subtle tap of your feet magnified by the smooth surface, giving the space a cavernous, eerie quality.

The walls are a deep, charcoal black, lined with intricately carved molding that runs up to the high, coffered ceilings. Elegant sconces along the walls cast pools of soft, amber light, their glow bouncing off the glossy tiles, adding an extra layer of depth to the room. The lighting is deliberately dim, creating an atmosphere of perpetual twilight, where shadows stretch and warp across the dark floor, leaving certain corners cloaked in deeper darkness.

To your left, a grand staircase spirals down, its wrought iron railings twisting in elaborate, almost gothic designs. The banister is polished ebony, gleaming faintly in the soft light, while the steps are lined with a deep, crimson runner that stands in stark contrast to the black tiles, offering a rare touch of softness amid the cold, hard surfaces. The staircase seems to descend endlessly, vanishing into shadows that hint at more hidden secrets below.

Expensive art lines the walls—large, dark oil paintings that seem impossibly old, their subjects watching with melancholy or judgment. The frames are thick, gilded with gold, though their luster is muted with age. Between the paintings, mirrors with heavy, ornate frames reflect fragments of the space, but never enough to give you a full view—only glimpses, distorted by the interplay of light and shadow.

Despite the mansions undeniable beauty, there’s a coldness that seeps through the dark tile, a chill that seems to rise from the floor itself. Every detail, from the smooth tile to the velvet drapes, feels curated and perfect, yet it lacks any warmth or comfort. The space feels like a cage disguised in luxury—beautiful, yes, but suffocating in its grandiosity.

"Kitchen is downstairs" Sylus says, nodding in their direction. You quietly make a mental note of everything as you descend. This is your chance to map out the house, make a potential escape route. Even if Sylus was close behind, you shouldn't waste this opportunity gawking at everything. So he's filthy rich, so what?

Your eyes flit from the deep shadows that pool in the corners of the hall to the heavy drapery that conceals what’s outside. Every window, every door, every hallway could be a potential escape route if you ever get the chance. You tell yourself to remember where they are, how the house is laid out. A plan begins to form in the back of your mind, hazy but determined. One way or another, you’ll need to know this place inside and out.

Each step down the staircase feels like a test, a countdown of sorts. The further you go, the deeper you descend into Sylus’s world. The weight of his gaze makes it hard to breathe, but you know you can’t falter now. You keep your pace steady, your face expressionless, pretending that this is just a simple walk down the stairs, but inside, your thoughts race. Every second counts, and you’re not going to let this moment slip away unnoticed.

The rich, savory smell of roasted chicken invades your senses as you reach the last step, filling the air with an unexpected warmth. The faint crackle of fire and the clattering of pans echo from the nearby kitchen, the sounds weaving into the dark, quiet luxury of the house. It’s a stark contrast to the cold, empty grandeur surrounding you—this small slice of normalcy, of life. But the moment feels fragile, like it could break at any second.

Your foot barely touches the last step when Sylus’s hands clamp down on your shoulders. The sudden contact sends a jolt of fear through your body, your heart lurching as you instinctively jump.

"You’re jumpy," he says softly, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of amusement, as though your fear is entertaining to him. The warmth of the kitchen clashes with the cold tension between you, and the contrast makes the moment feel surreal.

Sylus guides you away from the comforting noises of the kitchen, leading you into a room that exudes the same dark, expensive elegance as the rest of the house. The atmosphere shifts as you step into the space—less intimate, more like a showpiece designed to impress rather than to live in. It’s reminiscent of a living room, though everything feels just a little too perfect, too polished.

Your eyes widen as a massive flatscreen TV comes into view, its size nearly absurd against the backdrop of rich, dark wood paneling and plush furniture. "Huh? I didn’t know they made TVs this big..." you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The screen is so large, it feels more like a home theater than a living room—something you’d only expect to see in movies or magazines. While the Hunter's Association paid you well, this level of luxury was foreign to you, something you'd never even considered owning.

Sylus follows your gaze to the screen, his expression unreadable. "Is something wrong with it? Too big? I can have it downsized," he offers casually, though his eyes search yours intently, as if he’s genuinely concerned about your comfort. His suggestion catches you off guard, and you cock your head in confusion. Why would he even suggest such a thing?

"No! It’s fine," you say quickly, shaking your head, still baffled by his willingness to adjust even something so extravagant for you. "I’ve just never seen one this huge."

Sylus nods, seemingly satisfied with your response, and motions toward the sofa. "Sit," he says, his tone soft but commanding. The sofa is deep, covered in smooth leather, and it practically swallows you when you lower yourself onto it.

He wastes no time sitting next to you, checking his watch again. You fiddle nervously beside him, feeling out of place in such a space. First he lets you out of his room for the very first time in weeks, and now the both of you are sitting on the couch casually as if this was routine.

You desperately wished you could tell what he was thinking.

"Chef should be done in a few minutes" Sylus said, interrupting your anxious thoughts. He tenderly intertwines his fingers with yours, lifting your hand up to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. His gaze is unwavering as he looks at you.

Your gaze shifts, briefly breaking away from his piercing eyes, and lands on a shelf in the corner of the room behind him. Something there catches your attention—an old, meticulously cared-for record player. Its polished surface gleams in the low light, a relic of a different time. It’s beautiful in its simplicity, standing out against the modern opulence surrounding it. You wonder briefly about its significance. Why something so old in a house filled with the latest luxuries?

But the question fades as Sylus’s thumb gently strokes your hand, pulling your focus back to him. He's being tender right now, and feeling bold, you start talking.

"I didn't think the leader of Onychinus would live in such a grand place" you say calmly, eyeing his reaction. Instead of anger of irritation, he simply smiles as if he already realized you had figured out his identity.

"Oh? What were you thinking then?"

"Well...I figured you would be in hiding" you say plainly, gritting your teeth a bit. "This place is pretty easy to spot. Lots of hiding places too."

Sylus chuckles as if you just told him something funny. "Sweetie nothing gets in or out of this place without me knowing, that's hardly a worry"

You mentally curse yourself. Of course he has cameras. Why wouldn’t he? A man like Sylus would never leave anything to chance, especially not in a place like this. Escaping wouldn’t be as simple as memorizing the layout of the house. You’d have to make it past the cameras, the eyes constantly watching, recording every move. The realization makes your stomach sink. Even your thoughts of escape feel smaller, less attainable now.

The air grows thick with the scent of steam and roasted chicken as a figure appears around the corner. The chef, an older man with deep-set lines in his face, moves with quiet precision. He says nothing as he places an exquisite spread of chicken and side dishes on the table in front of you. Everything looks impossibly perfect—the golden-brown skin of the chicken, the vibrant vegetables, the delicately arranged plates. It’s the kind of meal you might see in a restaurant you could never afford, yet it feels out of place here, too refined and elegant for the suffocating tension in the room.

The chef doesn’t speak, not a word, but he gives a small nod in Sylus’s direction before quietly retreating from the room. His presence, brief and silent, only adds to the strange, controlled atmosphere. You find yourself wondering if he knows—if he’s aware of the twisted dynamic at play here—or if he’s just another piece of the puzzle that makes up Sylus’s meticulously crafted world.

For a moment, you think about the cameras again. They’re watching, just like Sylus. Always watching. You force yourself to focus on the meal, trying not to give away the panic bubbling beneath your calm exterior. You smile faintly, but your mind races with the next hurdle: it’s not just about getting out of the house, it’s about getting out unseen.

Sylus glances at you, his hand still resting on yours. "Eat," he says softly, his voice smooth but with an edge of command beneath it. The invitation sounds pleasant, but you know better. This isn’t a request.

You nod, swallowing hard, a knot of anxiety tightening in your throat. You start with the green beans, methodically chewing, your mind already strategizing. Green beans—protein and energy for running. Every bite, every move from here on out has to be deliberate, with purpose. Escaping this place was never going to be easy, but now it feels even more impossible. Still, you cling to the idea that preparation is key. You’ll need your strength for when the time comes.

As you chew, you glance at Sylus and notice something unsettling. He hasn’t touched his plate. His gaze is fixed on you, watching, as if he’s waiting for something. The unease that had been simmering beneath the surface now starts to bubble up. You meet his eyes, silently questioning why he’s not eating. He smiles tenderly.

"I’ll be tracking your ovulation window from now on," he says casually, as though he were discussing the weather. "Since you’ve gotten your first period since staying here, now would be a good time to start."

The words hit you like ice water, chilling you to the core. You freeze, your fork halting mid-air as the meaning of what he said sinks in. The casualness of his tone, the way he drops such a personal, invasive statement into the conversation as if it’s nothing, leaves you reeling. He’s watching you, gauging your reaction, his smile lingering in the same unsettling way.

The room, with all its lavish furnishings and exquisite food, suddenly feels more like a cage than ever. It’s not just about being physically trapped anymore—it’s the knowledge that even your body is under his control. He’s tracking you, monitoring the most intimate parts of your life. Any illusion of autonomy shatters, leaving only the cold reality of how deeply he intends to dominate every aspect of your existence.

You force yourself to swallow the bite in your mouth, your heart pounding in your chest. Stay calm, you tell yourself. Don’t react. Not yet.

"That won't guarantee a baby" you retort, trying your best to hide a scowl. You know you’re pushing him, testing the boundaries, but the words slip out before you can stop them. The shift in his expression is immediate. The amusement that once danced in his eyes evaporates, replaced by something darker, more calculated.

His face contorts into a deep frown, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he processes your defiance. For a moment, he says nothing, and the air between you feels charged, thick with unspoken tension.

"Maybe not the first time," he starts slowly, his voice dropping a notch, finally picking up his own fork. His tone is calm, but there’s a cold edge to it, like he’s already several steps ahead in whatever twisted game he’s playing. "Or the second time."

He takes a deliberate bite, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, as if daring you to interrupt. After what feels like an eternity, he swallows and leans back against the sofa, his gaze sharp and unrelenting.

"But it will eventually."

The words hang in the air, a dark promise. His voice is measured, controlled, but beneath the surface, you can feel the underlying threat. Sylus isn’t just talking about biology; he’s making it clear that he will keep trying, over and over again, until he gets what he wants. The casual way he says it, as if it’s inevitable, sends a shiver down your spine.

The words settle in your mind, their dark implications unfurling like a slow, creeping poison. You can’t take it anymore—the calm, the control, the endless power games. Something inside you snaps. The fear, the careful restraint you’ve held onto for weeks, crumbles all at once. Before you can stop yourself, you slam your fist down onto the table, the sharp clatter of silverware echoing through the room.

"Do you even hear yourself?" you shout, your voice shaking with rage. "You think this is some sick game? You can’t just… you can’t control my body like that! You can't just—" Your voice breaks, the dam of emotions bursting wide open. "You think you can force this? That you can just keep me here, like I’m some… some breeding stock? Like I don’t have a say in my own life?"

Your breath comes in short, ragged bursts, your heart pounding in your ears. The words are spilling out now, unstoppable. "You think tracking my ovulation, making your plans—doing whatever sick family fantasy thing you have in mind—is going to work? You have no right! No right to decide what happens to me, no right to decide my future for your delusions!"

Sylus's fork clatters back onto his plate, his face blank at first, but the tension in the air is palpable. He doesn’t interrupt, just watches as you lose control, like he’s waiting for something—maybe for you to exhaust yourself, maybe for you to break down entirely. But you don’t care anymore.

"You’re insane!" you spit, your voice cracking as the emotions surge, unstoppable now. "This whole place—this whole twisted world of yours—it’s a prison. Do you even get that? It doesn’t matter how much money you throw at it, how many things you control, it’ll never make you anything but a monster!"

The words hang in the air, trembling with the rawness of your outburst. Your chest heaves, your hands shaking uncontrollably. You’re on the verge of tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not now.

"I'll kill myself before any child of yours ever calls me mom" you say, your words ringing through the still and quiet mansion.

Sylus’s expression shifts, the mask of calm slipping ever so slightly. His eyes narrow, and his lips press into a thin, tight line. For a moment, the room feels like it’s holding its breath. Then, as if something in him cracks open, he smiles. A slow, unnerving grin spreads across his face, the darkness in his eyes momentarily replaced by something even more disturbing—amusement.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, trying to process the sudden shift in his demeanor. The anger you had expected never comes. Instead, a low chuckle rumbles from his chest, growing louder, filling the room with an eerie echo that makes your skin crawl.

"Are you done with your little tantrum, kitten?" he coos, his voice dripping with condescension. The way he says "kitten" sends a shiver down your spine, the pet name laced with eerie sweetness. Without warning, he reaches out, gripping your wrist with an unsettling gentleness, pulling you toward him with ease.

Before you can react, he yanks you down onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him. Your body stiffens, the weight of him beneath you both unsettling and humiliating. You feel trapped, like prey ensnared in a hunter’s grasp. His arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. You try to pull away, but his hold is unyielding.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, his voice soft but taunting as his fingers trail lazily up your back, "you’re just a little ball of anger, aren’t you?" His smile widens as his hand slides into your hair, gently tugging it, controlling even the smallest movements. You feel the tension in your body spike, but any resistance you try to muster is immediately swallowed by the cold reality of his control.

"You know," he continues, his tone light, almost playful, as if you weren’t just screaming at him moments ago, "I could let you keep fighting me. Let you wear yourself out like a kitten clawing at something it can’t catch." He chuckles again, his fingers tightening in your hair, forcing your head to tilt just enough so that you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lock onto yours with a frightening intensity.

"But we both know how this ends, don’t we?" he whispers, his voice dropping into something dangerously low. His smile never fades, but the amusement in his eyes sharpens into something cruel. "You’ll tire yourself out. You always do."

A whimper escapes your lips as his grip tightens in your hair, the pressure mounting to the point where it’s impossible to hold back any longer. The tears you’ve fought so desperately to contain now spill freely, streaking down your cheeks. Your body trembles as the emotional dam breaks, the fear, frustration, and helplessness flooding out all at once.

Sylus notices. His expression shifts, softening in a way that feels strange. The cruel amusement that once gleamed in his eyes fades, replaced by something disturbingly gentle. He loosens his grip on your hair, letting his fingers glide down to your cheek. His thumb brushes away the hot tears, wiping them tenderly.

"Don’t cry pretty girl," he murmurs, his voice a quiet coo. The gentleness in his tone feels like a strange juxtaposition to the fear still gripping your chest. His other hand slides down to cradle your face, keeping you close, but no longer with the same force. "It’s okay. I promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I?"

He presses soft kisses on your lips as they tremble and you just let him, the weight of the situation crashing on you. "Just take my cum and have my baby, I'll take care of everything else. Doesn't that sound easy?"

You jerk your head away from him at the mere thought of him impregnating you.

He turns your head back towards him, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your tear-streaked cheek, the touch almost reverent. The sensation makes your skin crawl, the tenderness a cruel mockery of the power he so clearly holds over you. You want to pull away, but his hands keep you there, gently holding you in place as if to soothe the very tears he caused.

His lips move to your hand, kissing your tear-stained fist, as though he’s trying to console you after making you break down. The gesture feels wrong, every soft touch an extension of his control masquerading as care. He’s not only comforting you out of kindness and love but he’s reminding you that even your pain belongs to him, that he can take you to the brink of despair and then pull you back whenever he pleases.

"You can scream, you can break my things, you can throw tantrums, but in the end..." His voice lowers, chillingly calm. "You’re still mine. You still belong to me. Your anger? It’s nothing. It won’t change anything."

The room feels smaller now, his words wrapping around you like a vice, tightening with every breath. You can’t breathe, can’t think, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all over again.

"And as for your outburst..." he says, his lips curling into a faint smile. "It will have consequences."

Your body trembles as his thumb brushes away another tear, his touch tender, almost soothing. And despite the revulsion that twists in your stomach, despite every fiber of your being screaming at you to push him away, you don’t.

You can’t.

You’re just so exhausted.

Without even realizing it, you lean into him, your body betraying your mind. The weight of your exhaustion is unbearable, and the fight you’ve held onto for so long begins to slip through your fingers like sand. Your head rests against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing providing a sick sort of comfort that you hate yourself for needing.

He holds you gently, his arm wrapping around your waist, securing you against him as though he’s protecting you. The irony is suffocating. This man, who has twisted your world into a living nightmare, is now the one offering you comfort. And as much as you despise him for it, for the control he wields over you, you sink deeper into his embrace, desperate for the warmth and the momentary relief from your own anguish.

"There you go," he murmurs softly, his fingers stroking your hair in long, calming motions. "See? It’s not so bad, is it?"

The words cut, each one a reminder of the power he holds over you, but you’re too drained to care anymore. The anger, the defiance, the hatred—it’s all still there, burning under the surface, but right now, the only thing you can feel is the weight of your own exhaustion pulling you down, dragging you into a state of reluctant surrender.

"I hate you," you whisper, your voice barely audible, muffled by his chest. The words come out broken, hollow, lacking the fire they once carried. But it’s all you can manage, the last flicker of resistance in a sea of overwhelming fatigue.

"I know," Sylus replies, his voice soft and almost indulgent, as though your hatred is just another part of the game to him. He holds you tighter, his hand continuing to caress your hair.

"But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. You’re mine now. Hate me all you want, I’ll still take care of you."

You hate him for saying it. You hate him for making you feel like you need him. But in this moment, you’re too tired to fight him. You allow yourself to collapse into the illusion of safety, just for a little while, even though you know it’s a trap.

You wake to the sensation of being moved, cradled like you’re something fragile. It’s disorienting at first, and for a brief, blissful moment, you don’t remember where you are. But then the cold reality slams into you.

Sylus.

Your eyes flicker open, and through the haze of sleep, you realize he’s carrying you. His arms are steady, but the feel of his hold sends a chill down your spine. You try to shake off the drowsiness, to push yourself upright, but your limbs feel weak and uncooperative.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice gentle, though it only makes the situation worse. "Go back to sleep. You’re safe."

Safe. The word rings hollow in your mind. You know better. Even though his touch is soft and careful, even though his voice is low and comforting, you know exactly where you are—exactly who holds you.

Your heart sinks as you hear the faint whirr of a door opening. He’s taking you back to the room, the one where you’ve spent so many weeks locked away, trapped. A lump forms in your throat as you realize what’s happening, but you’re too weak to fight it. You had a brief taste of freedom, even if it was a twisted version of it, but now he’s putting you back in your cage.

Sylus steps into his room, the dim light casting long shadows over the dark, lavish space. He moves with deliberate care, like he’s handling something precious, lowering you onto the bed with a gentleness that feels grotesque in its contrast to what he’s actually doing.

Your body sinks into the mattress, your limbs too heavy to lift. You manage a weak protest, a soft whimper of resistance, but he shushes you again, his hand brushing the side of your face with infuriating tenderness.

"Sleep, kitten. You need your rest."

He moves to the door, and you hear the unmistakable sound of the lock. The finality of it sends a fresh wave of despair through you. You’re back in the same room, the same prison, despite the moments of fragile comfort you had shared. It all meant nothing. You’re still his prisoner.

You turn your face into the pillow, tears pricking at your eyes once more, but you’re too drained to cry again. Your body aches, your mind is foggy, and sleep still tugs at you, relentless in its pull. You hate that you find any sense of comfort in the bed, in the quiet, but there’s no fight left in you tonight.

With the sound of the lock still echoing in your mind, you close your eyes and let yourself slip back into unconsciousness, knowing that tomorrow, nothing will have changed.

You wake suddenly, gasping for air, your skin slick with sweat. The sheets are tangled around your legs, suffocatingly warm. For a moment, you think it's just another nightmare—the kind that leaves you feeling claustrophobic and panicked—but the heat in the room is real, heavy, and stifling.

You sit up slowly, blinking in the darkness, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Something feels off. The usual low hum of electricity, the steady whir of the ceiling fan, the soft glow of electronics—they’re all gone. Silence presses down around you, and the air in the room feels thick and still, almost oppressive.

The power’s out.

It hits you slowly at first, like a distant thought struggling to surface. The heat, the silence... no fan, no lights. And then it clicks. The power’s out. The fingerprint scanner.

Your heart skips a beat, adrenaline spiking through your veins. No power means the security system that’s kept you locked in this room—trapped and helpless—is down. The scanner on the door, the one that’s monitored your every movement, is dead. It has to be.

This could be your only chance.

You stumble out of bed, your legs shaky, still groggy from sleep but jolted awake by the rush of adrenaline. Your hands tremble as you feel your way to the door in the dark, the oppressive heat clinging to your skin. The room is suffocating, the air too thick to breathe, but none of that matters now.

You press your thumb against the scanner, holding your breath. Nothing happens. The small screen remains black, unresponsive. It’s not working.

A flicker of hope flares in your chest. The lock isn’t powered. You press your palm against the door and push, feeling it give under your hand. Slowly, carefully, you ease the door open just a crack and peer out into the hallway.

The corridor is bathed in shadow, darker than when you last saw it. The ambient lights, the security monitors, everything is dead. The house is eerily still, the silence even more unnerving than before. You step into the hallway, your heart racing as you move forward, each step deliberate and cautious.

For a brief, terrifying moment, you expect to hear Sylus’s voice, or the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, but the house remains quiet. You know he has Luke and Kieran stationed somewhere, but for now, the way seems clear.

You make your way toward the grand staircase, remembering some parts of the house from earlier. The front door is just ahead, at the bottom of the stairs. The hallway stretches before you, dark and endless, but your pulse quickens with the possibility of freedom.

You take a breath and descend the stairs as quietly as possible, gripping the banister for balance. Each creak of the wood beneath your feet feels deafening in the stillness. Your eyes dart around the hallway, searching the shadows for any sign of movement.

Finally, you reach the bottom of the stairs. The front door looms ahead, and you move toward it, the air growing cooler as you get closer. Your hand reaches for the door handle, and just as your fingers brush the cool metal, you freeze.

Voices.

You hear them—low, muffled voices coming from outside the door. Sylus’s men.

"Shit, powers out. We gotta start the generators."

Your heart sinks. They're right outside. You cant go this way without immediately being manhandled.

You glance around frantically, your mind racing for another way out. The house is massive, full of rooms and corridors, but you have no idea where the other exits lead. Still, you can’t afford to stand here and think—you need to move.

Then you remember. The kitchen. Maybe there's a way out there?

It’s a long shot, but you don’t have any other options. You turn quickly, darting down the hallway, your footsteps light and deliberate on the smooth, black tile. The shadows seem to stretch and twist around you, and every small creak feels like it’s echoing through the silence. You try to keep calm, but the fear of being caught wraps tighter around your chest with every passing second.

You reach the kitchen, and the oppressive heat of the house seems to lessen as you step inside. The room is large and dark, no light to be seen through the windows. The scent of stale food lingers in the air, remnants of a meal long forgotten, but you barely notice it. Your eyes dart to the side door.

It’s small, barely noticeable in the corner of the room, half-concealed behind shelves and cabinets. The door leads out to the horse racing track—you remember Sylus mentioning it in conversation once.

You rush toward the door, your pulse thundering in your ears. You reach for the handle, your hand trembling as it wraps around the cool metal. For a brief moment, you fear it’ll be locked, that this last chance at freedom will slip through your fingers.

Thankfully, with a twist and a click it opens.

The space beyond the kitchen is nothing like you expected—no trees, no breeze, just the harsh, cold landscape of the N109 zone. The dark, black midnight sky looms over you like an oppressive blanket, thick and unwelcoming. No stars, no moonlight, just an endless void stretching above you. The air is still and stale, a reflection of the lifelessness surrounding you.

But you have no time to process any of it. You can’t stop now. You have to keep moving.

Your feet press into the cracked, uneven ground as you forge ahead, your breath shallow and quick. As you walk, the outline of several horse stables comes into view. The structures are dark, the animals inside unmoving, their silhouettes barely visible in the low light. Thankfully, the horses are all asleep. None stir as you pass by quietly, your body tense and ready to bolt at the slightest sound. The only thing you hear is the quiet crunch of your own footsteps on the rough surface beneath you.

Ahead, a tall fence looms in the distance, a final obstacle standing between you and the outer edges of the N109 zone. You approach it cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest as you study its height. It’s rusted and worn, but still sturdy enough to make the climb difficult. You don’t have time to think—you have to act.

Gripping the cold metal tightly, you heave yourself up, your muscles straining with each movement. Your hands slip slightly, the rough texture of the fence biting into your palms as you scramble to find footing. Panic flares briefly in your chest, but you grit your teeth and push through the fear. You can’t stop now.

Just as you manage to get a decent grip, you hear it—the unmistakable hum of power returning. Behind you, Sylus’s mansion springs to life. Lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the cold, empty halls that only moments ago were shrouded in darkness. The power’s back. It won’t be long before they notice you’re gone. They’ll be coming for you.

It’s now or never.

With a final burst of strength, you haul yourself up the last few feet of the fence, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The metal digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You pull yourself over the top, balancing precariously for a moment before launching yourself over.

You crash onto the other side, landing face-first on the hard, unforgiving ground. Pain shoots through your body as your knees and elbows scrape against the jagged surface, but you don’t let it stop you. You’ve come too far to be caught now.

For a moment, you lie there, dazed and gasping for breath, the shock of the impact making your head spin. The cold ground beneath you feels like both a punishment and a reminder that you’re not free yet. Behind you, you can hear the faint sounds of activity from the mansion—the twins moving, footsteps echoing in the distance.

They know.

Ignoring the pain, you force yourself to your feet, your body protesting with every movement. The fence looms behind you like a dark sentinel, separating you from the life you’re fleeing. You don’t dare look back at the mansion, don’t give yourself the chance to second-guess your next move.

You start running.

The landscape ahead is bleak and dark, with nothing but cold, cracked streets in every direction. There’s no breeze, no noise apart from your labored breathing and the pounding of your feet against the ground. A few tall and bleak buildings reminiscent of a part of a city come into view. You start making your way there.

You’re outside. You’re running. And for the first time in what feels like forever, the possibility of freedom is real, even if it’s still far out of reach.

In the distance, perched on a dead landline, a mechanical crow preens its feathers. Its head jerks toward a running girl, its red eyes locking onto her figure. Without warning, it spreads its metal wings and takes off in her direction, gears whirring as it follows from above.

[ariestrxsh]

🤍 content warning: smut, masturbation, getting caught, sneaking around, risky sexual encounter, fingering, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

🤍 summary: you're on a road trip with your three favorite people, nick, matt, and chris, staying in hotels and eating gas station food. one night, when you finally think you have to some time alone, you decide to relieve some stress. you're going at it with your favorite vibrator in the hotel room when chris walks in on you, and he has an unexpected reaction.

Road Trippin'

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 |

[ back to Road Trippin' masterlist ] ↖

I had been roadtripping with the triplets for close to a week now, and it consisted of staying in random hotels, long drives, and gas station food. I wouldn't have it any other way. Except for the fact that it had been a week since I had some alone time, and I was dying for a few minutes by myself so I could release some built up tension. This obviously wasn't something I could bring up to Nick, Matt or Chris without enduring relentless teasing, but I hoped they would find something to do soon without me so I could have the hotel room to myself, even if just for a few minutes. That was really all I needed. I had a small bullet vibrator with me, and it was tucked discretely away in my suitcase. I was just waiting for a chance to use it, to hear its familiar hum, to find the vibration pattern I liked, to find the perfect fantasy to finish myself off to.

A couple days prior, I tried to bring it into the shower with me, but we only had one bathroom to share between the four of us, so as soon as I turned it on, Nick came in and started asking if I had seen an item of clothing he was missing, and then Matt came in to brush his teeth a few minutes after, so I figured even the shower wasn't a safe place. The worst part about all of it, was when I got out of the shower, completely unable to find any relief, and left the bathroom, I realized I had left it next to my razor on the ledge of the tub, and I had to find a way to sneakily get it back before anyone else used the shower and found it, and thank god I was able to. Don't get me wrong, I loved adventuring with my three best friends, but us all living on top of each other and getting little to no privacy was really wearing at my patience.

"Hey, Matt's gonna take Chris and me to go get food. You wanna come with?" Nick asked. About damn time. "You know, thanks for the offer, but I'm feeling pretty tired. I think I'll just stay here," I said, trying to hold back a smirk. The three boys left, and then the sound of sweet silence filled the room, but that silence was quickly broken by the hum of my vibrator. I wasted no time kicking off my pants and underwear and collapsing onto my bed. I was laying on my back, legs spread, in nothing but a baby tee, and I had my little compact pink vibrator resting on my clit. I started moving it around in circles, coaxing a few moans from my lips. I loved the way it felt and how wet it was making me. I could feel a damp spot forming underneath me on the bed. I turned my vibrator onto my favorite setting, which was just a continuous vibration, but the intensity came in steady waves. I started to roll my left nipple between my fingers, which was very sensitive.

I threw my head back, closed my eyes, and just as I was about to release, I heard the door open. Shit shit shit. I scrambled to turn off my toy, slam my legs shut, and pull the nearest blanket over me, but it was too late. Chris was standing in the doorway, stunned. "Oh my god what were you doing?" He asked me, wide-eyed, and I watched as he tried to adjust his hardening cock in his pants discretely. "Oh my god Chris. I thought you guys left already," I responded, humiliated, but my humiliation quickly shifted to anger, "why didn't you fucking knock?" "I just came back up for my wallet. We literally just walked out the door like two seconds ago. I didn't think you'd be.. you know," Chris replied still mesmerized by my half naked body that was barely hidden from him and the toy I had that was still between my legs. "Sorry, Chris. I didn't mean for you to see me like this. I just haven't been able to - you know - like alllll week. I'm dying here," I whined. "Shit, Matt's calling," Chris looked at me and then looked down at his phone. "Great, tell him and Nick to come up here so we can all share this moment together!" I sarcastically exclaimed, rolling my eyes, clearly pissed that I couldn't even get two minutes alone without someone walking in on me, and hoping he'd get the hint to turn around and walk out, considering that's what any other normal person would have done had they walked in on someone masturbating.

"Hey. I can't find my wallet. Could you just pick up food for me and I'll venmo you later?" Chris asked Matt over the phone, smiling at me. I looked at him confused and shook my head no. "No, go with them, please let me have this," I begged him in a volume just above a whisper so Matt couldn't hear. I put my hands together in a prayer position. "Whatever loser. Text me what you want," Matt responded and then hung up. "What the fuck are you doing?" I shrieked at him, knowing I wasn't going to be to finish with him here even though I was like a second away right before he walked in.

Chris locked the door and starting texting away on his phone, and I assumed it was his order to Matt. He put his phone in his pocket, sat at the foot of the bed, and began parting my legs with his hands. "What I'm gonna do is sit right here, and what you're gonna do is show me what you were doing when I walked in," he said to me in a dominant voice that instantly had my demeanor changing. I was stunned. "You heard me. You know what I wanna see. Don't you wanna cum before Matt and Nick get home?" He asked, moving his face closer to my pussy to get a better look. I laid back again, loving the way he just spoke to me. "Yes sir," I said in a soft voice, succumbing to him. "Good girl," he cooed as I turned my vibrator back on to the lowest setting. Having him watch me turned me on even more than I could imagine. He was staring between my legs, licking his lips, and he started touching himself through his pants.

"Well would you look at that," he whispered as he watched the way the wetness coating my entrance started leaking out of me. "Let me help you," he said taking his finger and running it up and down my wet slit. I gasped at the way it felt. He teased me like this for a couple minutes, running his fingers along my folds, but to my dismay, still leaving me empty. "Please," I begged him, bucking my hips against his fingers, hoping that would make one slip in. But Chris really knew how to drive me crazy. He took my bullet vibrator out of my hand and held it up against my clit in the same spot I had it before. "Hey what does this button do?" He said, changing the setting to my favorite setting. I moaned loudly in response as he worked the little toy in circles on my little bundle of nerves. He was almost too good it, and my imagination started running wild, wondering if this wasn't the first time he'd used a toy with a girl. "Oooh, you like this setting," he said, observing the way my body was reacting. "Oh Chris. Please," I whimpered. "What is it, pretty girl? Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want." "Please put your fingers in me," I begged him. "Only because you begged so nicely," he said, smiling and obliging.

He looked into my eyes while he filled me with his middle and ring finger while he continued holding the toy against my clit. "Fuck, you're so wet and tight," his eyes widened while he penetrated me. "Mhmmm," I bit my lip and moaned. I felt a sensation building in my core, and I knew what was coming next. "Oh Chris," I moaned while my pussy throbbed around his fingers, and my legs started shaking.

After my first orgasm, Chris didn't slow down, and I went to push his hands away. "Chris please.. already came.. so sensitive," I said brokenly. "No, I know. I think I can get a few more out of you, though," he said winking. "But Matt and Nick.. what if they come back?" I panted. "Yeah, they could walk in any second," he whispered, smirking at me. Just like that, I felt another orgasm coming on, and this time it hit me even harder than before.

"You like how risky it is. You like that they could walk in on you and see me finger-fucking you, don't you?" He responded. I ignored his question, even though he might have been right. "Please.. no more," I said breathlessly. "Just one more, princess. I know you can." His fingers were moving in and out of me with incredible speed, and the vibrator had been on my clit so long it was nearly going numb. I was so overstimulated. "I can't, it's too much," I started to sob. "Yes you can, pretty girl, I know you can. Let go for me," he whispered, looking into my eyes. The way he was holding eye contact and talking me through it sent me over the edge one final time, and finally he slowed down the pace of his fingers. He removed them, took them into his mouth, and licked them clean. "Mmmm, you taste as good as you look," he muttered as he handed me back my vibrator that was still buzzing away.

I turned it off and slipped it back into my luggage. Chris pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Shit, Matt texted me. They're downstairs. Okay, you hop into the shower, and I'm gonna make your bed," Chris said, panicked while he tucked his erection into the waistband of his sweatpants, "we can't let anyone know this happened." I nodded, discarding my bottoms that were still on the floor, scrambling to grab a change of clothes and dashing into the bathroom.

By the time Matt and Nick returned to the room, the wet spot on my bed was covered up, I was in the shower, and Chris was on the bed that he and Matt shared, and he was texting away on his phone. "Hey loser. We're back. Did you sit on your phone the whole time we were gone?" Nick asked, holding the majority of the food, while Matt walked in behind him carrying the drinks. "No, actually I helped our friend take care of something she was really putting off," he smirked, knowing Nick and Matt wouldn't understand the innuendo. "Whatever weirdo. Here's your Pepsi. You owe me $15," Matt said, setting the drink on the nightstand. Chris ignored him.

Once I got out of the shower and started to dry off, I saw I had an unread text. It was from Chris, and it read: "You know, it's been about a week since I've been able to get off too. It's really hard to jerk off when you're laying in bed next to your sleeping brother. Help me tonight after they fall asleep?"

I found myself getting hot and bothered by the text. I could never look at Chris the same again after how he just made me cum all over his fingers three times in a row. I no longer saw him as the goofy, annoying kid who always knew how to get on my nerves. Now I was lusting after him. I knew the way he looked at me and the way he spoke to me while he turned me into an incoherent puddle of my own drool and cum would fuel many, many fantasies to come. "What is it, pretty boy? Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want," I texted back, biting my lip, giving him a taste of his own medicine. A few seconds later, he answered me: "Please. Let me bust in your mouth, pretty girl. That's all I want."

part two posted here 🤍

[milkmily]

Invitation [Zayne]

Zayne x non mc! reader

Sum. You and Zayne got an invitation to a wedding, but it was to attend the wedding of the people you two love, both heartbroken. (Angst(?), a bit of Sylus x reader, nothing romantic happens in this chapters yet, There is comfort in a way ig idk guys I suck at this lol enjoy)

Layla is MC (my oc) to clear things up :) Also sorry if there are typos I did re read but at times I sometimes miss some even if I do re read it lol. Also me posting this after we got a new 5 star card released!? Craazzyyy lol I am definitely getting Zayne and Caleb on everyone's soul.

Here | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ->

Zayne is in love with Layla, his soulmate. The one who he is distant To be, the one who he loves and cherishes. She was his destiny. But when he had gotten the letter to her wedding, he was just devastated. This wasn't supposed to go like this. This was one of the universes that he'd get to change the fate of it all, to finally be with her.

And here he stands at the wedding, both Sylus and Layla dancing together slowly. She married a man named Sylus. He's heard of him from times that Layla would go to his office to spend time with him. He didn't think much of it really. He thought that they were just friends. She always meets someone new with how kind she is. But never did he think that this would happen. He was happy, well, not truly happy.

He looks down at the glass of champagne he had at his hand. He sighs and sits down, no longer standing the sight of seeing the love of his life dance with someone else. He should be happy for God's sake! If he loves her he should. But…he just simply couldn't. The soft slow music still played as there was a small crowd watching them dance. “You came here for the bride Or the groom?” He heard someone say. He turned to his right and saw you. He's seen you before. You are one of Layla's friends. He just never knew your name or talked to you. “The bride…” he said as he fixed his glasses. You hummed and sat next to him. “You don't seem to enjoy the celebration.” Was it that obvious?

“No, I am. I've been told I just look cold.” He says back to you as his eyes move to look at Layla and Sylus. Your eyes moved too to look at the two newlyweds. “I'm here for the groom.” You say. “He's my boss.” You chuckled. “Layla has told me about you. She says you're her doctor.” So she does talk about him. He looked at you and nodded. But Your eyes were still glued to the happy couple that danced. Your eyes, they showed pain and hurt, maybe even betrayal? The same exact feelings he himself feels. They also were a bit puffy, had you cried for them because you were happy for them? “You also look like you aren't enjoying the celebration.” He says. You snapped and looked at him. “It's that obvious? Jeez…” you sighed. “Not really a big fan of crowds.” He wasn't sure but it seemed like a lie to him.

“I am Zayne.” He says. You smiled at him and said your name. Ah, that's your name. It suits you.

It was 4 am when you woke up. You took a shower, got ready, made breakfast and got ready for work. You sat down on your desk and saw A small white envelope. You smiled, already knowing who it was.

You flipped it and it had his name on it. Sylus. You hummed, wondering what it might have been and opened it. You take out the letter and read it. Your eyes went wide as you saw the two names next to each other and the big words that said, You're invited to our wedding.

You see the names again and your stomach starts to hurt. Married? Sylus and Layla?

You re Read it to be right and even check the date to see if it was some stupid prank that Layla had pulled. But no, it wasn't April 1 and it definitely was real as it had below Sylus signature you knew so well.

This hurt, seeing the letter at hand. “So, will you be coming, dear?” You looked up to see Sylus leaning on the desk. You looked down at the letter. Seeing him hurt even more now. “Yes, of course. How could I miss it?” You say yet, your tone cracked a bit. you Were trying so hard to hold in your tears. You start to cough In hopes that Sylus thought you'd simply gotten a cold. “That's good to know.” He Smiled. “You don't need to worry about the dress or anything, I'll have it ready. They just need to measure you and that's all.” You looked up at him, his red eyes Looking right back at you. Of course he'd do that, he always does. And that's what you loved about him, one of the many things you loved about him.

“Okay…thank you.” You smiled. “Um, I'll be right back.” You say and excuse yourself. You go into the restroom, lock the door and sit down on the floor as you hold on to the letter. You just start to sob uncontrollably as you hold the letter and reread it every single time. It waa true. It was real. And it hurt so much.

You have loved Sylus for so long. His gestures, the way he talked, walks, the way he is is what made you fall in love. His touch is so soft that you'd Wish for more from just his single shoulder squeeze Or the hold he had on you as you two had danced together that one night having to pretend to be a couple on a mission. The night you two stared into each other's eyes, your heart beating quick and fast as he had that smile On his face that made you melt. Or the times he'd invite you out to eat dinner, showed you his vinyl collections and heard his horrible singing That made you laugh and made him chuckle. Everything of him you loved and had wished it would have been your name on the card.

The dress was beautiful, it truly was. Sylus knew what would look good on you, always. The wedding was beautiful and welcoming. Everything was beautiful. Even Layla. Her gorgeous wedding dress and the huge Smile in her face as she walked down the aisle. The tears she shed as she heard Sylus vows was even beautiful. And how Sylus looked at her with such loving eyes as she read her vows. But it hurt. You don't know how many times you had to excuse yourself just to cry alone in the bathroom.

You had just gotten done crying, walking back to the party to see the groom and bride dancing together To a slow and soft song. You watched them and just smiled at them. No matter how much you wished and vision it was you, the reality never changes and it will stay like this. You saw someone sitting alone and approached them. Might as well make new friends, no? As you got closer you noticed, this was Dr. Zayne. The Doctor that Layla talked About a lot, her childhood friend and primary doctor. You sat down next to him and ask, “You came here for the bride Or the groom?” You already knew the answer but it's the best way to start a conversation no? You saw he wasn't enjoying the celebration much but maybe that's just how he Looks? So you ask and he explains that it's just how he looks. But to you, it felt like a lie.

You looked back at the dancing married couple, but more at Sylus. His arm wrapped around her waist, exactly how he had held you that night as you two danced, his other Hand holding her hand, fingers intertwined, exactly How you gwo held hands as well and-

“You also look like you aren't enjoying the celebration.” You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at him, smiling nervously. You were caught so off guard. “It's that obvious? Jeez…” you sighed. You Just came up with some stupid excuse. “Not really a big fan of crowds.

“I am Zayne.” He says. You smiled at him and said your name back to him. Zayne nods. And You two just talk, as if the crowd was never there, as if you two were never at a wedding. As if you were never heart broken.

You two ended up talking the whole wedding party. You'd laugh at his stupid and horrible jokes because come on, they were actually funny. And he'd Laugh at your horrible jokes as well. You told him about Sylus and how he was as a boss and he told you about Layla and how it was growing up with her.

“You two are here to talk or for the celebration?” You two looked at who talked and it was Layla. She was smiling at you two and you awkwardly looked away. “Both…?” You say and she laughed. “Come on! You two have to dance or something! You two are boring.”

“Now Kitten, you already know how [Name] is, she doesn't like dancing.” He says as he had two glasses of champagne at hand. You embarrassingly looked away as he said that. Well, now Zayne knows too. “Zayne here is the same.” Layla says and now Zayne looks away as well. You two looked at each other and chuckled. Layla holds her hand out towards Zayne and he takes it. Suddenly he's pulled away and you laugh at how wide His eyes got. Suddenly a big hand is Held at front of you. “Care for a dance?” He asks and you look up at him. Your heart beats fast And place your hand on top of his.

The song was slow like last Time. Some guests were dancing as well. Sylus wrapped his arms around your waist and you placed your hands on his shoulders to keep a distance. You two slowly dance and you just stare at his chest. “You're hiding something from me.” He says. You say nothing because It's true. You're hiding so much from him right now. “You Can tell me.” He says. You close your eyes as you hold back the tears. “Look up at me.” He says and you do, you open your eyes and they slowly adjust Themselves. You saw Sylus Smiling down at you as he slowly moves along with you.

“Tell me.” He whispers. He truly does care about you.

“I can't right now.” You say. It would be horrible To confess your feelings on his wedding day. What type of person does that? “When will you?” he asks. “When it's the right Time.” You say and continue to dance with him. He brought you closer, your head in his chest now, hearing the soft heart beats and you closed your eyes. You simply let the moment happen.

Zayne looked over at you and Sylus and as Sylus Slowly turns, he saw a tear slide down your cheek as your ear was pressed against his ches. He looked away and looks down at Layla as she danced along with him.

She was gorgeous, really. She looked so beautiful with the white dress she had on, how she had her hair up in a big bun with some curls out and her bands To the side. She is So gorgeous. Is this how she Would of looked if They got married? Would she hold him exactly how she held Sylus when they danced? Kissed him the same way? This was wrong, truly wrong. But he cannot stop how he feels, he's human after all. Layla looked up at him and smiled, “You're thinking right now Zayne, what is it?”

“Nothing.” He says as he smiles softly down at her. “Hmmm, it better not be work related. At my wedding, work is not welcomed.” She said and giggled. Zayne Chuckles and shakes his head. “No, it's not work. Don't worry.” He says. “I'll try to visit you as much as I can, Dr. Zayne. And I won't miss any appointments either.” She says, reassuring him. He nods and says, “Good to hear.”

“Thank you for coming.” She says as she looks at him. “Really, it means a lot that you're here.” But if only she knew that he felt like a damn storm right now. He nodded at her and they continued to dance. That's when Sylus Tapped his shoulder and said, “I'll have to steal her from you now.” Layla let's go of Zayne and he watched her leave with Sylus so they'd dance together. That's when he saw you standing as well. You looked hurt too. The same pain as his. And right then and there, he knew you were Also in love.

He walks up To you and asks, “you really don't like to dance?” You looked at him and shrugged. “It really depends..” He held his hand out and asked, “do you want to dance?” you looked at his hand and held it. He slowly brings you closer to him and holds you. You closed your eyes as you Pressed your ear against his chest and danced with him. He looked down at you and saw you shaking. “It's okay.” He whispers. And it breaks you. You let out soft and quiet Sobs as you danced with him. He holds you a bit more tighter, reassuring you. You held on to him as you two danced and felt him let out a shaky sigh.

Well, now he knows it wasn't because you didn't like big crowds. And you now knew that it wasn't because of his expression.

You two were truly broken.

There will be a part two :)

[lynnimini]

₊⊹ 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦 ₊⊹

description: fluff ⋆ angst ⋆ hurt/comfort ⋆ smau ⋆ comedy ⋆ uni au

in which taesan secretly becomes a hopeless romantic and seeks out his university’s anonymous matchmaking instagram to find love… but not in the way that you’d think

pairings: nonidol!h. taesan x afab!reader

warnings: angsty at times ⋆ mentions of breakups ⋆ kys jokes ⋆ the moderators go by aliases ⋆ frequent cussing

updates: every friday !!

release date: feb. 28, 2025

author’s note: hiiii it’s lynn again (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) !! this is my first smau and i’m actually really excited to be making a fic like this for a change, so i hope you enjoy !!

Send an ask or comment on any chapter to be part of the taglist !

taglist (open!, bolded could not be tagged): @onedoornet @blossomnet @astrae4 @enzstr @taesanfav @kekaekeke @oowir @heeheesang @livibbu @jvngw0nlvr @s0shroe @mimimimiaa @nineooooo @pumpkg @winteringdream @https-yeonjun @defnotsanni @squiishymeow @pinkiwinkiminki @nujeskz @renisprobablyonthetoilet @janjoonty @143bnd

───────────୨ৎ───────────

chapter list:

⭑.ᐟ profiles: moderators ⋆ lead characters ⋆ lsfm ⋆ bnd

⭑.ᐟ prologue: heart shake

⭑.ᐟ chapter 1: mr loverboy

⭑.ᐟ chapter 2: mr nonchalant emo ?!

⭑.ᐟ chapter 3: uh oh

⭑.ᐟ chapter 4: we dont miss him

⭑.ᐟ chapter 5: star ma’am

⭑.ᐟ chapter 6: buttmoji

⭑.ᐟ chapter 7: ceramics squad pod

⭑.ᐟ chapter 8: teatime

───────────୨ৎ───────────

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index:

Chapter 1 - Round Two | cover

Chapter 2 - Wine & Tequila | cover

Chapter 3 - Mr. Madrid | cover

Chapter 4 - Oldest Friend | cover

Chapter 5 - Important To Me | cover

Chapter 6 - Footballers | cover

Chapter 7 - Madrid or Manhattan | cover

Chapter 8 - Last Night | cover

Chapter 9 - His Angel | cover

Chapter 10 - A Little Lost | cover

Chapter 11 - Go | cover

Chapter 12 - Like Your Home | cover

Chapter 13 - The Grand Palais | cover

Chapter 14 - This House | cover

Chapter 15 - Le Château | cover

Chapter 16 - Glass Angel | cover

Chapter 17 - Release | cover

Chapter 18 - Long Distance | cover

Chapter 19 - Judey | cover

Chapter 20 - Be Yours | cover

Chapter 21 - Space | cover

Chapter 22 - Galería D’ange | cover

Chapter 23 - The Right Time

Chapter 24 - Falling Into Place

Chapter 25 - Fiancé | Complete ✨

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Thank you for reading! The series has officially come to a close. I really can't express how much I loved talking about this with anyone that has messaged. From. 'You're Mine' all the way to 'Act II' and all the one shots in between I feel like I've created a little world that I really hope readers enjoyed. <3

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

[legandairy-horror]

Does anyone else feel a strange sort of dread waiting for new deltarune chapters?

It sounds crazy right? I admit it's a weird feeling for sure, and I'm not even 100% sure if dread is the right way to describe it. But as more info is revealed and the next chapter inevitably gets closer and closer to releasing I can't help but feel a strange sort of, melancholy? Longing? The only way I can describe it is "when you know the goodbye is coming". The strange somber feeling when you know you’re going to have to leave stuff behind, but aren't quite ready for it yet.

warning: words. Homestuck

In 3 months Chapter 1 will be 6 years old, and in 2 months Chapter 2 will be 3 years old. Deltarune is ostensibly in Early Access but this release schedule puts new chapters closer in time scale to whole sequals if anything, which they most assuredly are not trying to be. This has created a strange situation in the fanbase that I don't think I've ever truly seen anywhere else. One where, In the time between chapters It feels like everyone has had their own chance to decide what Deltarune is to them. To create their own version of this story, to write their own themes that they want to see explored, to imagine their own events and plot twists they want to see play out.

@lynxgriffin Paper Trail Comic Being an Alternate Story following off of chapter 1

@lilybug-02 The Chara Timeline Being one of many interpretations on the popular Asriel & Chara roommates headcannon.

@huecycles Andromeda Chapters being their interpretation on the full game

The innumerable Deltarune Theorists and analysts like HalfBreadChaos, Andrew Cunningham, Stuffed Alpaca, etc. etc.

@vyletbunni Deltatraveler being a whole ass fangame based around a chapter 2 meme that it has long since outlived

And that's kinda the thing isn't it? Once more deltarune comes out, a ton of these projects will just become outdated, it's an inevitability. So what will happen to them? will they become forgotten? maybe, maybe not, it's impossible to tell. but either way it feels kinda sad to think about yknow? that one day all the time and effort spent and all the memories made might one day just cease to exist.

There's a lot more I could say on this topic if given the chance but to keep this tumblr post from morphing into a 2 hour long video essay in text form let me leave off with this.

In the age of the internet and social media there will always be a fan of something. Nothing truly dies quite like it used to anymore, regardless of whatever influencers want you to believe. But that doesn't mean things stop changing, that there wasn't a past that has since been left behind. I'm a Homestuck fan. more specifically I'm a Late Homestuck fan, one who came in after the comic had already ended and it's peak in popularity was long behind it. The fandom's still around all these years later. But it'd be foolish to admit that, 8 years after the comics controversial end, the inescapable trend of new fans replacing old fans has left the fandom wholly disconnected from the monolith that it once was. the only remnants of which lie in decades old discourse and fanfiction. Like old relics of a long forgotten city, waiting to be excavated under a fine layer of dirt.

Before I close out here I just want to make it clear: I'm not saying that we should be trying to return to some nebulous "glorious past" that never really existed. I'm not trying to deride Toby Fox for not working in the sweatshop hard enough to produce more content™, or whatever you wanna try and spin-doctor this post into. It's just a thought that creeps into my head every now that I wanted to share, see if anyone feels the same, yknow?

Besides it's not all doom and gloom. For those of you OG Homestucks who read till the end. You remember Heinoustuck? Guidestuck? Nightfall? Fucking Ke$haStuck? yeah those are still going by the way! after years of inactivity they've now started back up again. some under new authors and some by the same author but still!

You could say a lot about that but to me at least, it makes me feels hopeful in a way. That, even if not everything will survive. we'll at least have some mementos to remember what came before.

[seriiousgiirl]

𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 — 𝒢𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓉𝓎 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. I'm so sorry.

❛ Part 1 ⋅ Part 4 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Dear Readers! Thank you so much for taking the time to comment on my story! Your words mean the world to me and have truly brightened my day. Knowing that my work resonated with you is the best kind of motivation and keeps me excited to continue writing. Your support makes this story even more special, and I can't wait to share more with you. Thank you again for reading, commenting, and being part of this experience. It really means more than I can say!

➜ ┊: chapter 3/?.

When James woke up, it was to the blaring sound of his alarm, startling him from the thin veil of sleep he’d managed to slip into. The red numbers on the clock glowed harshly in the dark: 7 a.m. 

He blinked, disoriented, his body heavy with the remnants of exhaustion. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he had slept through the night. The realisation brought an unexpected wave of relief. He sighed softly, feeling the tension in his muscles begin to release, the rare moment of peace filling him with something like gratitude. Maybe the nightmares were finally letting him go.

He moved to get out of bed, but before he could even shift the covers, a sudden pressure gripped his throat. His breath hitched violently as he was shoved back against the mattress, the force pinning him down like an iron vise. Panic shot through him like a jolt of electricity, his hands instinctively flying to his throat to fight off whatever was holding him. His heart raced as his eyes flew open, and in the dim light of the room, he saw it. 

Him.

The towering figure of Pyramid Head loomed over him, its massive form blocking out everything else, its presence suffocating and oppressive. The weight of its hand pressed down on James’s throat with merciless strength, each thick finger wrapped around his neck like a vice.

James's breath came in short, panicked bursts as he struggled to free himself. His hands clawed at the creature’s arm, fingers digging into the cold, slick surface of its flesh, but it was like trying to move a mountain. The Pyramid Head didn’t budge. He didn’t flinch. He was as immovable as stone, watching James struggle beneath him with that same terrifying stillness.

James's vision blurred at the edges as the lack of air began to take its toll. His mind raced in frantic circles, trying to make sense of what was happening. This can't be real, he thought, but the crushing pain in his throat told him otherwise. Every attempt to fight back was futile, his strength draining faster with every passing second.

Desperate, James let out a strangled cry, his voice hoarse and broken. It felt like his lungs were on fire, the pressure mounting with every beat of his heart, but the Pyramid Head’s grip never loosened. It was relentless, unwavering. The monster's strength was absolute, and James could feel his own slipping away.

But then something changed.

The Pyramid Head let out a deep, guttural grunt, a sound so raw and visceral that it sent a shiver through James's already trembling body. The sound was filled with pain—its pain. For a moment, the monster’s grip tightened even further, and then it paused. The creature's head twitched slightly, its movements slow, almost hesitant, as though it was fighting something inside itself.

James gasped for breath, trying to make sense of what was happening. Why is it hesitating? The agony coursing through his throat was unbearable, but there was something different now—a strange, shared torment that wasn’t just his own. It felt like the Pyramid Head was suffering alongside him, trapped in the same unbearable anguish. 

James’s mind reeled. He wasn’t just being punished. He was being mirrored. The pain, the desperation, the weight of everything crashing down on him—it wasn’t just his alone anymore. It was their pain. 

As his vision continued to darken, James felt his strength fading. His hands, still clawing at the creature’s arm, began to weaken, his muscles giving in to the exhaustion. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, each pulse slower than the last. The room around him seemed to blur, the edges of reality slipping away.

Yet, through it all, he could still hear it—the agonising grunt of the Pyramid Head, its silent suffering intertwining with his own. His thoughts were scrambled, fragmented memories flashing before his eyes. Mary. Silent Hill. The sins he could never atone for, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like the very hand around his throat. 

Was this his punishment? His eternal reminder of what he had done?

That was it? There was no escape, no way out. 

And then, just as his vision blurred completely, the hand around his throat... loosened.

"James?"

The sound of Laura’s voice cut through the suffocating haze, sharp and clear. His eyes flew open, and he was no longer beneath the crushing weight of Pyramid Head’s hand. Instead, he was in his bed, drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for breath. The bedroom was still cloaked in darkness, but the nightmare had loosened its grip, retreating back into the recesses of his mind.

James blinked, disoriented, trying to focus on the small figure standing by his bed. His eyes darted towards the clock: 3 am. His heart hammered violently in his chest, the remnants of fear and panic still clawing at him, but the world around him was real again. It was a dream... just a dream.

Laura stood at the edge of the bed, her wide blue eyes staring up at him with concern. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her pyjama shirt, the innocence in her face a stark contrast to the terror he had just experienced.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry. "You were... making weird noises."

James swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. He sat up slowly, running a shaky hand over his face, wiping away the cold sweat that clung to his skin. His throat still felt tight, as if the hand of the nightmare had left a lingering imprint.

"Yeah," he rasped, his voice hoarse and strained. "I'm okay. Just... just a bad dream."

Laura frowned, not entirely convinced. She stepped closer to the bed, her gaze still fixed on him. "Are you sure? It sounded really bad."

James forced a weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "It was just a dream," he repeated, hoping the words would somehow make it feel less real. But the weight of the nightmare still pressed down on him, the image of Pyramid Head looming over him burned into his mind—he hadn’t seen it so clearly in the past three years.

Laura hesitated for a moment, then sat on the edge of the bed. "You don’t have to be scared," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "It's gone now."

James looked at her, his heart twisting at the sight of her small figure sitting there, trying to offer him comfort. She shouldn’t have to do that—shouldn’t have to worry about him. He was the one who was supposed to protect her, not the other way around. He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. "Thanks, Laura," he murmured. "But I’m fine, really. Just... tired."

She nodded slowly, but her eyes didn’t leave him. "You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to," she added, her voice gentle, "but I’m here if you need to."

Her words, so innocent and sincere, tugged at something deep within James. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I know," he said quietly. "Thank you."

Laura gave him a small smile, "Okay," she said, "but you should try to sleep again. I don’t want you to be grumpy in the morning."

James chuckled softly, a faint glimmer of warmth breaking through the lingering cold of the nightmare. "I’ll try," he promised.

Laura lingered at the door longer than usual, shifting nervously on her feet. James noticed the way she hesitated, her small fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe as if she was weighing her words.

"Dad..." she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can I... Can I sleep here with you tonight?"

James looked at her, surprised by the question. She usually slept fine on her own, her confidence never wavering, but tonight there was something different—something in the way she looked at him, as if she wanted to make sure he would be okay. His heart clenched. He wanted to say no, to tell her she didn’t have to worry about him, that he could handle it. But as he looked into her concerned eyes, the words died on his tongue. 

He didn’t have the strength to refuse her. He didn’t want to.

James nodded, his voice soft. "Yeah... sure. Come on."

Laura smiled, a small, relieved smile, and without hesitation, she padded over to the bed. She climbed up and settled herself on the other side, her small body sinking into the mattress. James shifted over, making space for her, and pulled the blanket over both of them. The bed felt different with her there, warmer in a way that chased away some of the lingering coldness from his nightmare.

She lay on her side, facing him, her eyes blinking up at him sleepily. "Thanks," she mumbled, her voice thick with drowsiness. "I’ll stay quiet. I promise."

James smiled faintly at her words, knowing that she wasn’t the one who needed to be quiet. He nodded, his heart a little lighter now. "It's okay. Get some rest, sweetie."

She closed her eyes, nestling into the pillow, and within moments her breathing started to slow. It didn’t take long before she drifted off, the tension in her small body easing as sleep took her.

James stayed awake for a while longer, looking at her fondly, listening to the steady rhythm of Laura’s breathing beside him. The nightmare still clawed at the edges of his mind, but with Laura next to him, it didn’t feel as heavy—didn’t feel as suffocating.

Just as he thought she had fallen asleep, Laura's voice piped up, soft yet curious. "James?"

He opened his eyes slightly, glancing at her. "Yeah?"

"You know, Y/n?" she asked, her voice still sleepy but curious. "I think she likes you a lot."

James chuckled softly, trying to keep the mood light despite the weight of his own emotions. "You promised to be quiet, remember?"

Laura ignored his teasing, "But really! You two talk a lot after school. It's like... you're friends or something."

James felt a warmth spread through him, but guilt quickly followed. "Laura, she's just being nice. It’s part of her job."

"But it feels different," Laura insisted, her eyes brightening. "I mean, she listens to you, and you look at her like she’s really special."

James shifted uncomfortably unsure how to respond—was he really that obvious? "It's not like that, kiddo."

Laura pouted, clearly not convinced. "You should ask her out! It would be fun."

"Let’s not rush into things, okay?" he said, trying to divert the conversation. "Get some sleep."

But Laura's enthusiasm remained undeterred. "Just think about it, James. You could be happy again."

───────────────

James could hardly believe the morning he was having as he pulled into the school parking lot. The sun hung low in the sky, illuminating the campus with a golden glow, but the warmth did little to ease the chill in his chest. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard, his heart sinking when he realised how late it was. 10 am. A knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach as he replayed the events of the morning in his mind.

He was usually a master of routine, a creature of habit who thrived on early mornings filled with journaling and quiet reflection. Each day began with his insomnia, a reminder that he needed to confront his thoughts and feelings before they overwhelmed him. Then, his alarm would uselessly ring—signalling it was time to get ready for work. But this morning had slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving him disoriented and breathless. He had woken up to find Laura sprawled across him, her small form curled up against his side, blissfully asleep. 

For a fleeting moment, he had thought it was a dream, the sunlight streaming through the window and filling the room with a golden hue. But as he shifted to sit up, he felt her weight shift, and a wave of panic washed over him when he glanced at the clock and saw that it was already past what was supposed to be his alarm. 

He cursed himself for letting time slip away, for not managing to wake up on time.

It was the first time in… he couldn’t even remember.

Now, here he was, late for dropping Laura off at school, the first hours of class already long gone. As he stepped out of the car, he took a deep breath to steady himself, but the air felt heavy, suffocating in its stillness. The laughter and shouts of children drifted from the playground, where kids were already enjoying their break.

James's heart raced as he walked Laura to the entrance, her small hand in his, each step heavy with the guilt of not having given her a proper start to her day. "Alright, kiddo," he said, kneeling down to her level. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead, his thumb lingering on her cheek for just a moment. 

“Have a great day at school. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Laura beamed up at him, her eyes sparkling with youthful energy, unbothered by his stress. “Okay! Bye, James!” she called out, her voice ringing with innocence as she dashed toward her friends. The sight of her running off filled him with a mix of pride and sadness, knowing that she was growing up too fast and he was struggling to keep pace.

As he turned to leave, still feeling the weight of guilt on his shoulders, he heard a familiar—sweet voice call out to him from behind. “James! Wait!”

You were standing by the school entrance, your expression a blend of concern and curiosity as you hurried over. The way your brow furrowed slightly over your pretty face made his heart race, a mixture of anxiety and something deeper rising in his chest. He paused, turning to face you, breathless from the rush of the morning and the unexpected tightness in his throat.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft yet probing, as if you could sense the turmoil churning beneath his surface. Your eyes searched his, and for a moment, he felt as though you could see right through him, peeling back the layers of his façade.

James hesitated, his gaze dropping to the curves of your lips then to the ground, avoiding your eyes. The weight of your question hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the tangled emotions he was struggling to untangle. He felt a flush creep up his neck as memories of the previous night rushed back. The sinful images of you lingered in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the shame that clung to him like a shadow.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though the lie felt thin and unconvincing even to him. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he recalled how he had crossed a line he never thought he would, the memory of touching himself to the thought of you still vivid in his mind. The pleasure had felt so—so good, so real, and it had terrified him. 

“Really?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow. “Because I sent you a text this morning. I thought something might be wrong, but you didn’t respond.” 

James finally glanced up at you, guilt washing over him. He opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, fumbling for the right words. “I don’t check my phone a lot,” he replied finally, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt like a lame excuse, but it was the truth. “I slept in, and rushed to get to school for Laura.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “You can talk to me, you know.” 

His heart raced, a tempest of emotions swirling inside him. He couldn’t meet your gaze; the shame was too much. The way you cared about him felt like a gift and a curse all at once. James felt a twinge of shame, but it was quickly replaced by a darker, more intense emotion. He wanted to show you the depths of his desires, to make you understand the forbidden fantasies that consumed his thoughts, maddening him. But he knew he couldn't. 

He had to play the part of the noble, kind dad, even if it meant hiding his true nature.

“It’s just… a lot on my mind,” he finally admitted, his voice heavy with unspoken burdens. “Things have been complicated lately.”

Your expression softened, and for a moment, he felt the tension ease just a fraction. “You can trust me, James. I’m here for you. But you need to let me in,” you urged gently, a plea wrapped in kindness.

But could he let you in? The thought made his stomach churn. “I appreciate that,” he said, his voice low, “but I really don’t want to drag you into my mess.” 

You crossed your arms, your gaze unwavering. “You’re not dragging me anywhere. I care about you, and I want to help. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

James felt the heat of shame rise again, and he struggled to push it back down. How could he look you in the eyes, knowing the truth about his thoughts? He wanted to be strong for you, to be the man you could, at least, trust. But all he felt was weakness, and the weight of his guilt settled on his chest like a lead blanket.

“Maybe it’s just a phase,” he murmured, finally managing to meet your eyes for a brief moment. But the intensity of your gaze made him falter, and he looked away again, unable to face the truth of what he was feeling. “I’m just… working through things.”

Your silence spoke volumes, the unyielding concern in your eyes making his heart ache. He wished he could explain everything, but how could he possibly share the darker parts of himself with someone like you? 

“Just… promise me you’ll reach out if you need anything, okay?” you finally said, breaking the tension. “I’m serious, James.”

He nodded, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. “I promise,” he replied, though a part of him knew that it was easier said than done. 

As you turned to walk away, he felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t opened up more. But the fear of crossing that invisible line held him back. James watches you walk away, the subtle sway of your hips and the gentle curve of your waist etched in his mind. He feels a surge of longing, a desperate desire to reach out and pull you back, and confess his sins. His cock twitches, already half-hard from the mere thought of you.

"Fuck—Y/n," he mutters under his breath, "Why do you have to be so damn irresistible?"

───────────────

As the clock ticked closer to the end of the workday, James sat at his desk, staring blankly at the scattered papers before him. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered slightly, casting a sterile glow over the room that felt almost suffocating. He felt like a ghost, floating through the motions of his job, answering emails and attending meetings without really being present. Today, he was just a shadow of a man—or, accurately, more so than usual.

People had noticed, of course. Colleagues shot him concerned glances, occasionally asking if he was okay or if he needed anything. Each time, he forced a smile, shaking his head and offering a noncommittal “I’m fine.” But inside, turmoil brewed, like a storm waiting to break. The night had been particularly gruelling, filled with restless dreams that dragged him back into the depths of his mind, reliving memories he wished he could forget. 

It was one of those days when the weight of his past felt heavier, the shadows of his choices creeping closer. He thought of the bottle—his old friend during those dark moments when he felt utterly helpless. The memories of late nights spent drowning his sorrows flashed before him, the blurry faces of friends and the muffled laughter that felt so far away now. Back then, the alcohol had numbed the pain, the overwhelming ache of watching Mary suffer, feeling so utterly powerless to change anything. Those memories clung to him like a shroud, and the shame of his past habits stung like an old wound.

The image of her pale face haunted him, the way she had looked in those final months—fragile and thin, her laughter replaced by the echoes of hospital machinery. He remembered how her eyes had once sparkled with life, but now they were often clouded with pain and confusion. The sight of her suffering had been a visceral blow, each moment a reminder of his helplessness. 

He could have fought against the world, against fate itself—and literally did. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered. 

It has been too late.

But the truth weighed heavily on his heart. He felt the ghost of Mary’s disappointment in every corner of his mind, a reminder that he could have been better, when she was still alive. 

James felt a familiar ache in his heart as he thought of the countless nights spent sitting by her bedside, holding her hand as she drifted in and out of sleep. Each breath she took felt like a precious gift, and yet it was always laced with the knowledge that it could be the last. The feeling of despair had washed over him like a tide, threatening to pull him under. Those moments had changed him irrevocably, carving deep lines of sorrow into his soul.

He had retreated into himself during those difficult months, drowning in his own despair. The nights had been the worst. He would pour himself a drink—a bottle even, hoping it would drown out the pain, hoping it would help him forget the image of Mary lying in that hospital bed, frail and pale.

Today, he couldn’t afford to give in. He had Laura now, and he knew that drinking would only lead him down a path he was desperate to avoid. If he allowed those demons back in, he could destroy everything he was trying to build for her. The thought sent a chill through him; he couldn’t bear the idea of failing her, of becoming the man he once was. It was a battle he had fought before, and he felt the scars of that struggle etched deep within him. 

As the final minutes of his workday ticked away, he gathered his belongings, stuffing them into his bag with a quickness that belied his earlier lethargy. The anticipation of picking her up sparked something inside him.

Walking through the office, he exchanged polite nods with coworkers who asked about his weekend plans or made small talk about the weather. He felt detached from it all, their chatter a distant hum that faded as he focused on the rhythm of his heartbeat. With each step toward the door, the heaviness in his chest lightened just a fraction. 

As he arrived at the school, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the playground where children laughed and played. He parked the car and stepped out, adjusting his khaki jack as if it was his armour.

As he walked toward the school building, he caught sight of her, laughing with a group of friends, her blonde hair catching the light as she spun around. In that moment, everything felt right. He made his way over, feeling the corners of his mouth lift in a smile that had been absent for too long. 

“Hey, kiddo!” he called out, and her head whipped around, a huge grin spreading across her face. 

“James!” she shouted, dashing toward him and throwing her arms around his waist. 

The embrace was everything. In that simple moment, the weight of his struggles fell away, replaced by the warmth of her affection. He lifted her up, spinning her around as she squealed with delight, the sound a balm for his troubled soul. “Did you have a good day?” he asked, setting her down but keeping his hands on her shoulders.

“Yeah! We did art today, and I made a drawing for you!” She beamed, her excitement infectious.

He smiled warmly, “I can’t wait to see. Do you know where Y/n is? Perhaps… Well, I could thank her for encouraging my little artist.” He says, casually trying to mask his curiosity and neediness. 

Laura’s smirk was instantaneous, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She cast him a knowing glance, as if she were privy to some secret that he was oblivious to. James felt his cheeks warm slightly, caught off guard by her expression. Did she think he was being too obvious? He quickly focused on her, hoping to deflect any teasing that might come his way. Before he could say anything else, he caught movement in his peripheral vision. 

You appeared, walking toward them, and a wave of relief washed over him. The way you carried yourself—so pretty and poised, your hair catching the light, made his heart race. As you lifted your hand in a gentle wave, he instinctively returned the gesture, his smile widening as he did.

Laura observed the exchange, her smirk growing wider as she clearly relished the moment. “Y/n!” she called out, her voice laced with playful energy. “Come over here!”

You approached, and James felt a rush of warmth at the sight of you. It was as if your presence illuminated the space around him, chasing away the shadows that had lingered throughout his day. Laura looked back and forth between the two of you, her eyes sparkling with mischief as if she knew something he didn’t.

“Looks like someone was missing you,” Laura teased, nudging him playfully.

James shot her a warning glance, but the warmth in his cheeks betrayed him. He couldn’t deny it; he had been thinking about you. As you drew closer, he felt a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling within him. The air crackled with unspoken words, and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before he could find the courage to say what was really on his mind.

“Hey James,” you said, your voice bright and inviting. “I just finished my class. What are you two up to?”

James found himself momentarily lost in your gentle gaze, his thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. He opened his mouth to respond, but Laura beat him to it, her teasing nature coming alive. “We were just talking about you! James was wondering where you were.”

He shot Laura a look of disbelief, his mind racing as he tried to recover from the unexpected confession. But your smile only widened, and he felt a thrill of warmth spread through him. Maybe this interaction wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Really?” you replied, tilting your head slightly as you met his eyes. There was a playful curiosity in your expression, and he suddenly felt vulnerable under your gaze.

“Uh, yeah…” he stammered, fumbling for the right words as he tried to shake off the flustered feeling. “I was just… curious.”

Laura was practically beaming, clearly enjoying this. “Curious, huh?”

James felt his heart race, embarrassment creeping up on him. “It’s not like that,” he protested weakly. James felt his cheeks heat again as you chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill through him. This was supposed to be a simple pickup, yet the dynamic felt charged, filled with possibilities that hung in the air between the three of you.

“Anyway, what are you two up to?” you asked again, your tone light, but he sensed the underlying curiosity as you glanced at Laura.

“It’s time to head home and James says he will cook some pizzas,” Laura replied. “You should join us! It’ll be fun!”

James’s heart raced at the thought of spending more time with you, but he hesitated, unsure of how to navigate this moment. Yet, as he looked at you, he felt an urge to say yes, to perhaps—embrace the connection that had begun to blossom between you.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he finally managed, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within him. Maybe this was a step toward something more, something he had longed for but had been too afraid to pursue. 

But then you smiled back—that damn smile he couldn’t resist.

As the conversation flowed, James felt a sense of ease he hadn’t anticipated. And just like that, he found himself sharing his address with you, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest.  “You can come over for dinner anytime you want,” he said, trying to sound casual but secretly hoping you’d take him up on the offer. 

You nodded happily, a bright smile lighting up your face, and it made something warm bloom in his chest. “I’d love that,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “See you later, then?”

With a final wave, you parted ways. As James drove home with Laura, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope—which was surprising considering the mindset he had started the day with. 

Once home, James quickly changed into more comfortable clothes, shedding his jacket and loosening his tie. He could hear Laura humming to herself in the living room as she played, her excitement palpable at the thought of having you over. It felt surreal to think of someone else in their space. 

Since they had found this home, it had always been just the two of them—James and Laura, along with the lingering shadows of his past that seemed to haunt every corner. Laura’s beaming smile was infectious as she darted around, setting up her toys in preparation for dinner. “I can’t wait to show Y/n my drawings!” she exclaimed. 

James couldn’t help but smile back, but there was a bittersweet edge to his joy. “I’m sure she’ll be pleased.”

With a resigned sigh, he set to work in the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients to make the pizzas. He rolled the dough, meticulously spreading the sauce, layering cheese, and sprinkling toppings. Each movement was methodical and precise,  and once the pizzas were in the oven, James leaned against the counter, staring into the heat.  

Just then, the doorbell rang, breaking him from his reverie.

He wiped his hands on a towel, glancing toward the living room to see Laura perk up, her excitement radiating as she bounced on her feet, leaving her dolls aside. “It’s Y/n!” she squealed, racing to the door before he could react. 

James hesitated for a brief moment, lingering behind Laura as she flung the door open with childlike excitement. His nerves tingled, tension building in his chest as he prepared for whatever was about to unfold. And then there you were, standing in the doorway, framed by the fading light of the evening, your smile so warm it seemed to chase away the gloom that clung to him.

You looked... radiant. James couldn’t help but wonder how you always managed to look so effortlessly beautiful, no matter the occasion. It wasn’t just tonight; he realised, in all the years you had been teaching Laura, not once had he thought of you as anything but pretty. Whether it was seeing you in the classroom or running into you at a school event, there was something about you that always caught his eye—your soft smile, the way you carried yourself, the kindness in your voice. It had always been there, even when he was too lost in his own grief to notice.

But now, standing in the doorway of his home, the feeling was different. The warmth of your smile didn’t just pull him in—it melted something inside him. 

"Hi," you greeted softly, that same spark of warmth in your voice, and it made something stir in his chest. He nodded, returning the greeting a little more awkwardly than he'd intended.

“Hey,” James finally managed, his voice rougher than he’d expected. Laura was already tugging you inside, eagerly talking about the pizza and her day at school, but James stayed still for a moment, just watching as you stepped into the space that had always been reserved for him and his daughter.

His mind raced, and for a fleeting second, he wondered what you saw when you looked at him. Did you see the tired, worn-down man he had become? Or did you sense the heaviness he carried? He felt a little off balance—vulnerable, in a way he hadn't expected. 

And yet, here you were, stepping into his home, into his world.

The smell of pizza filled the air, a warm and familiar scent that seemed to relax everyone as the three of you sat around the small dining table. James had set out plates while Laura eagerly chattered, her voice filling the room with energy. You had settled in effortlessly, your presence a surprising but welcome contrast to the usual quiet of their dinners.

"Pizza's looking good," you commented with a smile, watching as James carefully cut a slice. Laura nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing in her seat. 

"Yeah, James makes the best pizza!" Laura grinned, reaching for a slice as soon as James slid it onto her plate. "He used to let me put the toppings on, but I kinda put way too much cheese last time."

James chuckled softly, the sound rare but genuine. “You really buried the pizza under a mountain of it. Could barely taste anything else.”

You laughed along, glancing at him. “Sounds like Laura knows how to make pizza fun, though. Maybe next time I can help out, too.”

James paused for a second, caught off guard by the casual offer. “Yeah... maybe,” he said, the corners of his mouth pulling into a slight smile as he looked down at his plate.

Laura, ever the observer, noticed and jumped in, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “You should! We could have pizza parties!” She beamed, clearly excited at the prospect. “James, don’t you think that’d be awesome?”

James looked at her and then at you, feeling the warmth of Laura's excitement. “Yeah,” he finally said, nodding. “It could be nice.”

You smiled back, the ease of the conversation making the room feel lighter and James’ heart missing a beat. “Well, I’m always up for a pizza party. It’s kind of hard to say no to pizza.”

Laura took a big bite and looked at both of you with a mischievous grin. “See, James? I told you she’d be cool with it.”

The way Laura was looking at you two didn’t escape James, and he felt his face grow warm. The last thing he expected tonight was for you to become such a natural part of their evening, but there you were—laughing with his daughter, making things feel... normal.

As the meal continued, the conversation shifted between Laura’s day at school and little stories that you shared. At one point, Laura proudly announced that she’d scored well on a recent maths test, which made James beam with pride. “She’s doing really well in class,” you added, glancing at James. “She’s smart and determined. You’ve raised a great kid.”

James looked down at his plate, something tightening in his chest. He didn’t feel like he deserved credit for that, not after everything, but hearing it from you made him feel... lighter. “Thanks,” he said, his voice quieter. “It’s mostly her. She’s always been bright.”

Laura, oblivious to the weight of the moment, kept eating happily, but you caught the subtle shift in James’ tone. You didn’t push, though, just offered a kind smile and continued the conversation, giving him space to be in his thoughts. Eventually, Laura leaned back in her chair, full and content, her eyes flicking to the clock. 

"Can I go play for a bit before bed?" she asked, giving both you and James a hopeful look.

James nodded. "Just for a little while," he said, and she shot out of her chair, racing off to the living room. 

That left the two of you alone at the table. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something palpable about it. James glanced at you, unsure of what to say. 

“You really do make good pizza,” you said, breaking the quiet with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” James replied, feeling a bit more relaxed. “Used to make it a lot more... back then.”

You noticed the way his voice shifted but didn’t press him. “Well, I’m glad you made it tonight.”

There was a pause, and James looked at you again, something unspoken hanging between you. It was as if both of you felt the weight of the moment but weren’t quite ready to acknowledge it. 

He cleared his throat, standing up and collecting the plates. “You want any more?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“No, I’m good,” you said, your voice light but your gaze steady on him.

As James moved around the kitchen, washing the plates, he couldn’t help but glance back at you every now and then. You were sitting quietly, but the way you were here, in his home, sharing this meal—it felt strange, but in a good way.  A part of him, the part he kept buried deep down, almost didn’t want the night to end.

After another trivial discussion and the plates were washed and put away, the evening began to wind down. Laura, still buzzing with the joy of having you over, had reluctantly agreed to get ready for bed. She came out in her pyjamas, clutching a book close to her chest, her green eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Can Y/n read me my story tonight?” she asked, her voice hopeful as she looked between you and James.

James hesitated, unsure if you’d want to stick around any longer. He felt like he’d already taken up so much of your time. But before he could say anything, you smiled warmly at Laura.

“Of course, I’d love to,” you said, and James felt his heart tighten in his chest. 

You followed Laura to her room, and James trailed behind, lingering in the doorway. He watched as you sat on the edge of Laura’s bed, the book resting in your lap as Laura snuggled into her blankets, her eyes wide with anticipation.  The moment felt almost surreal—too normal, too peaceful. It was something James hadn’t experienced in what felt like a lifetime, this quiet domesticity. And it scared him. 

As you began reading, your voice gentle and soothing, James leaned against the doorframe, his eyes drifting from the book in your hands to your face. The soft glow from Laura’s bedside lamp cast a warm light over you, making you seem almost ethereal. He tried not to stare, tried not to let his mind wander, but it was impossible. There was something about the way you read, the way you interacted with Laura, that tugged at something deep within him.

You would be a good mother, he caught himself thinking, and the realisation hit him harder than he expected. 

James swallowed hard, his chest tightening as guilt crept in. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. Not about you. Not about anyone. He’d already crossed too many lines, already indulged in thoughts and feelings that he had no right to. 

He thought about Mary then. How he had never really wanted children, never really allowed himself to consider it. It had always been a silent, unspoken disagreement between them, never fully addressed but understood. They’d dodged the conversation for years—he told himself it was for the best. Mary was too sick, their lives too complicated. But deep down, he knew the truth: he had been afraid. Afraid that he wouldn’t be able to handle it, afraid that he would fail as a father the way he had felt like he was failing as a husband.

But now, looking at Laura, listening to the sound of your voice as you read to her, James couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted inside him. Laura had changed everything. He hadn’t been ready for her, hadn’t wanted her at first, but she had become his lifeline. And now, with you here, reading to her, it felt like some part of him was waking up that he had long buried.

And it scared him.

He clenched his fists, trying to ground himself, but the sound of your voice, the softness in your tone as you read, pulled him back into the moment. He wanted this. He hated how much he wanted it—wanted you, but the desire was there, clawing at him. This wasn't just about Laura. It was about you. The thought of sharing a future, of having something more than the emptiness he had known for years.

James tried to remind himself of everything that had happened. Of who he was. Of what he’d done. But the more he tried to push those thoughts away, the more he found himself indulging in the present. In the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could have something different now.

But even as he chastised himself, he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop the way his heart beat a little faster when you smiled or the way his breath caught when your eyes flicked up to meet his for the briefest of moments as you read aloud. He felt like a monster. Like he was betraying everything he’d once held dear. Yet here he was, standing in the doorway of his daughter’s room, watching you with a longing he couldn’t ignore.

The worst part was that it wasn’t just about the physical and sexual attraction anymore. It was more than that. He admired the way you cared for Laura, the way you brought light into a room without even trying. You made things feel... bearable. 

And that terrified him.

He barely noticed when the story ended until Laura’s voice broke through the fog in his mind. 

“That was great!” she said, beaming at you as she settled deeper into her blankets. “Thanks, Y/n.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, your voice soft, giving Laura a gentle smile before standing up from the bed.

James straightened up, trying to compose himself as you turned toward the door. Laura yawned, stretching out her arms before looking at both of you with sleepy eyes. 

“Goodnight, James. Goodnight, Y/n,” she murmured, her voice growing quieter as she drifted off.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” James replied, his voice hoarse. He stepped aside as you moved toward the door, giving you space.

As the two of you stepped out of Laura’s room, closing the door gently behind you, the silence between you felt heavy. James glanced at you, then quickly looked away, unsure of what to say or how to even begin to process what he was feeling.

“Thanks for reading to her,” he finally managed, his voice low.

“It was my pleasure,” you replied, smiling softly. 

James couldn’t meet your gaze for more than a second before the guilt washed over him again. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve any of it. But despite all the reasons he gave himself, despite the self-loathing that filled him, he couldn’t shake the warmth that your presence brought.

James stood at the door for a long moment, torn between the overwhelming urge to ask you to leave and the inexplicable desire to keep you close, just a little longer. It was late, far too late, and he knew that. He parted his lips, ready to say the words: It’s getting late, you should probably go. But instead, what came out surprised even him.

"Would you... like to stay for a coffee?"

The words hung in the air for a second too long, and James immediately regretted them. What was he doing? But you smiled warmly, nodding without hesitation. "Sure, I'd love that," you said, and he could only nod back in response, still a little shaken by his own decision.

"Make yourself comfortable in the living room," he muttered, gesturing toward the door. "I'll... brew some coffee."

You gave a small nod and quietly slipped past him, heading toward the living room. James watched you go for a moment, feeling a nervous tension building in his chest before he shook it off and turned toward the kitchen. As he filled the coffee pot with water and measured out the grounds, his mind raced with what-ifs and doubts.

By the time the coffee was ready, the smell of it filling the small apartment, he felt his heart thudding against his ribs. He placed the mugs on a tray, feeling the weight of the simple act—sharing a moment with someone that wasn’t stained by the past.

But when he stepped into the living room, he froze.

You were standing by the shelf, your gaze fixed on a photo. His heart sank as he followed your line of sight, his stomach churning. It was Mary's picture—the one he had placed there after everything had happened, as a permanent reminder of what he'd lost. Her face, smiling, frozen in time.

For a moment, everything else disappeared, and all James could feel was the crushing weight of guilt. 

You turned as he approached, your expression soft, understanding, as if you knew the heavy silence that had settled between you both. "She is beautiful," you said gently, offering the words like a balm to soothe the raw wound the sight of that photo had just opened. 

James swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten. He placed the tray down on the small coffee table and ran a hand through his hair, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.  "Yeah," he whispered, the single word full of years of pain, regret, and memories he could never let go. 

His hands shook slightly as he sat down, unable to look at the photo any longer.

"She was."

You turned toward him, hesitating as your gaze flickered from the framed photograph of the woman on the shelf to James. There was a question in your eyes, but you didn’t know how to ask it, so your voice came out softer than usual, tentative. “Is she...?”

The words hung in the air, unfinished but full of meaning. James knew what you were asking. It was the question everyone skirted around but eventually needed to know. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His lips parted as if he needed to find the right words, but in the end, there were only the simple, inevitable ones.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost like it scraped its way out of him. “She’s dead. That was my wife, Mary.”

It still felt strange, even after all these years, to say it out loud. To hear the finality in the word “was.” It wasn’t like the first few months, where he couldn’t even form the sentence, where denial was stronger than acceptance. No, he’d long passed that. But every time he acknowledged it, it was as if he was chiselling away at some part of himself that he couldn’t get back.

You nodded slowly, taking in the weight of his words with an understanding that made him grateful. You didn’t rush in with platitudes, didn’t try to soften the blow with awkward condolences. You just... listened. You let the moment breathe.

But something inside James stirred, like an itch that wouldn’t go away. There was more to the story, more that you didn’t know. Maybe it was because you were here, sitting in his living room, in a space that had only been his and Laura’s, a space haunted by the presence of a woman long gone. Maybe it was because he felt like if he didn’t say these things now, they would continue to fester inside him like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

“Laura,” he began, his voice wavering for a moment. He glanced at you to see if he should continue, but you were still watching him, your expression open and waiting. So, he pressed on.

“She shared a hospital room with Mary.” His eyes drifted away from you, lost in some far-off memory that repeated itself in his mind with painful clarity. “They became... friends, I guess.”

That word, “friends,” felt inadequate for what Mary and Laura had meant to each other. It felt too light, too shallow for the connection they’d shared in that sterile, cold hospital room. 

“Mary,” he continued, his voice tightening with emotion he thought he had buried, “she wanted to adopt her. Laura didn’t have anyone else. No family. Mary thought… when she got better… when she was cured... she wanted to take Laura in.” James let out a bitter laugh, though it was hollow, empty. “But she never got better.”

He finally looked back at you, wondering if you understood what it had all meant. How his entire world had fallen apart in that room, how Mary’s death had left him with not only the guilt of her loss but also the responsibility of a little girl who had no idea how broken he was.

“The least I could do,” James murmured, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to maintain control, “was to honour that part. Take care of Laura, like Mary would’ve wanted. She deserved that much.”

He let out a long breath, feeling as if he’d just opened an old wound, the pain of it sharp and raw again. His fingers twitched as he ran a hand over his face, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled over him.

“It’s been hard,” he admitted, almost as if he were confessing to himself. “But I owed it to her. To both of them.”

The room felt thick with the weight of his words, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. You didn’t push him, didn’t ask for more than what he was willing to share. And that, somehow, made him feel more vulnerable, like you were offering him a quiet kind of acceptance that he didn’t deserve.

His mind wandered back to the thought he had earlier while watching you with Laura. He’d never really thought about children before, not with Mary. They had avoided that discussion, each for their own reasons. Perhaps Mary had known something deep down—that her illness would make it impossible—or maybe James just hadn’t been ready for that kind of responsibility. He hadn’t known how to be a husband, let alone a father.

But Laura… Laura had changed that. Changed him.

He blinked, realising how long he had been quiet, and looked at you again. You hadn’t moved, still watching him, a gentle understanding in your eyes. For a moment, James considered telling you more, but the words caught in his throat. It felt like too much, too soon. 

The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything James had just revealed. He could feel his heart thudding heavily in his chest, the vulnerability of it all still raw, and part of him wished he could take it all back, bury it again beneath the layers of guilt and grief he was so used to carrying. He didn’t deserve to unburden himself, not after everything he’d done.

But then you spoke, your voice soft, cutting through the stillness like a balm.

"James," you said, and the way you said his name made him pause. There was no pity in your tone, no judgement—just understanding. "You’re such a brave man. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. But I’m glad you told me. I understand so much more now… about you, about Laura… everything." You smiled gently, and the warmth of it reached him in a way that made something inside him crack.

James stared at you, the words washing over him like a wave he didn’t know how to brace for. Brave? Him? The notion felt foreign, almost absurd. Brave was the last thing he felt. He felt like a coward, someone who had failed time and time again—failed Mary, failed himself. And yet, here you were, looking at him with such softness, such kindness, like he was worth something more than the mess of a man he’d become.

His throat tightened, the breath catching in his lungs as he struggled to keep the flood of emotions at bay. But your words had reached somewhere deep inside him, a part he’d long thought was dead, or at least too buried beneath his guilt to ever feel anything again.

He opened his mouth to say something, to brush it off, maybe make light of it somehow, but nothing came out. Instead, a tremor ran through him, his hands suddenly unsteady as he clenched them into fists by his sides.

You didn’t push him. You just watched, that same gentle understanding in your eyes, and it was your silence—the fact that you weren’t asking anything of him—that undid him completely.

Before he could stop it, the first tear slid down his cheek, hot and unbidden. James quickly raised a hand to wipe it away, trying to regain control, but the more he fought it, the harder it became to hold back. He sucked in a shaky breath, and it felt like the dam he had built over the years was finally breaking, piece by piece.

"I—" His voice cracked, and he clenched his jaw, trying again. "I’m not… I’m not brave."

The words came out thick with emotion, almost inaudible, as he struggled to keep his composure. But it was no use. The walls he had built around himself, the ones that had protected him from feeling too much, were crumbling, and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to.

His shoulders shook, and before he could stop himself, he brought a hand to his face, covering his eyes as the sobs broke free, raw and uncontrollable. He hadn’t cried like this—not in years. He didn’t even know he still could.

James broke down, standing there in front of you, all the grief, the guilt, the shame he’d held onto for so long spilling out of him in waves. He cried for Mary, for the life they never got to have, for Laura, for you, for himself—for everything. Through the blur of his tears, he felt a presence beside him, and then your hand touched his face, gentle and reassuring. He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. Your touch felt like the only thing anchoring him in that moment, the only thing keeping him from drowning completely.

"You are brave, James," you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "You’ve been through so much, and you’re still here. You’re doing your best, and that’s more than enough."

He shook his head—leaning into your touch, not trusting himself to speak, but your words resonated inside him, even as he fought them. You didn’t know everything, didn’t know what he had done. But there was something in the way you looked at him, like you believed in him—like he wasn’t beyond saving.

And for the first time in a long time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were right.

You stayed there beside him as he cried, not saying anything more, just offering your quiet presence, and it was enough. More than enough. Because in that moment, James didn’t feel alone. Not anymore.

Your hand, gentle and steady, reached up to James’ face, your fingertips brushing against his rough, unshaven cheek. The touch was soft, almost hesitant at first, but then you let your thumb sweep over his skin, chasing away the tears that had fallen. His breath hitched at the contact, and he closed his eyes as if it took everything in him just to accept the comfort you were offering.

He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to being cared for like this. For a moment, he closed his eyes, just trying to breathe, trying to let himself accept it. He let you guide him to the couch, moving almost mechanically, like he didn’t trust his own body to follow through on its own. His legs felt heavy, his heart even heavier, as he sank down beside you. He should have pulled away, should have put some distance between you, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. It was like he was tethered to you, and that scared him. The kindness in your touch, in your voice—it was too much. 

But at the same time, it was exactly what he craved, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

The room felt too quiet, too intimate, with the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The kind of quiet that made it hard to escape his own thoughts. He tried to look anywhere but at you, but it was impossible. His gaze kept drifting back, kept landing on the softness in your expression, the concern etched in your eyes. 

His heart pounded harder in his chest when your hand moved from his cheek down to his chest, resting over his heart. The warmth of your palm was grounding, pulling him out of the haze of guilt and self-loathing for just a second. He could feel his pulse thudding beneath your touch, unsteady and anxious, as if his body didn’t know how to handle this closeness. He wasn’t sure how to handle it either.

He swallowed hard, trying to speak, to say something, anything, that would make sense of this. "You don’t have to…" he started, his voice hoarse and unsteady, but you just shook your head gently, stopping him before he could finish.

"I want to," you whispered, and your thumb brushed over his cheek one last time.

James clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping to your hand on his chest.. He shouldn’t be here with you like this. He shouldn’t let himself feel anything for you. But he did. He had for a long time, longer than he wanted to admit. And now, with you so close, it felt like those feelings were crashing down on him all at once.

And then, his heart races as you suddenly—yet, gently straddle him, the warmth of your body pressing against his. He can feel the heat radiating from your core, your thighs clenching around his hips. It takes all his self-control not to buck up into your touch, desperate for more.

His trembling hands rest on your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He hadn’t done that for so long, he doesn’t even remember how and where to place his hands. James wanted to explore your body, to map out every curve and crevice, but he’s frozen in place, unable to do anything but stare into your eyes. You lean in closer, your breath ghosting over his lips. He can smell the faint scent of your lipstick, a sweet and intoxicating aroma that makes his head spin. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place as if you might disappear if he lets go.

"What do you want from me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes dart down to your lips, watching as you wet them with the tip of your tongue. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

You press your forehead against his, your noses brushing, and he can feel the heat of your breath mingling with his own. "I want you," you murmur, and he feels the words reverberate straight through him, igniting a fire in his veins.

His hands slide up your sides, skimming over the thin fabric of your shirt. He can feel the heat of your skin through the material, and it makes him ache to touch you, to feel you naked and bare beneath him. He starts to pull your shirt up, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach, and you shiver in his arms. Your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you arch into his touch.

He pauses, his fingers just beneath the swell of your breasts. He wants to go further, to explore the treasures hidden beneath your clothes, but he's suddenly uncertain. What if this is a mistake? What if he's just taking advantage of you? He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But all he sees is desire, raw and unchecked. It’s a heady feeling, knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you.

Emboldened by your gaze, he continues to lift your shirt, revealing inch by tantalising inch of smooth, pale skin. He can't help but run his hands over your body, tracing the lines of your ribs, the soft swell of your breasts. You moan softly, pressing yourself into his touch, and he feels a surge of power and desire.

He wants to worship your body, to show you the depths of his desire. He wants to make you feel as crazy and desperate as he feels right now. But he's also terrified of ruining this moment, of pushing too far and losing you forever. "Tell me what you want," he whispers, his voice husky with need. "I'll give you anything."

You smile, a sultry, seductive look that sends a jolt of excitement straight to his core. "I want you," you repeat, your voice barely above a purr. "All of you."

He could feel the warmth of your core through the thin fabric of his jeans, and it sent a shiver down his spine. His hands instinctively gripped at your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh, anchoring you there as he tried to make sense of the sensations coursing through him.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice low and strained. "So fucking perfect."

He couldn't help but grind up against you, seeking more of that delicious friction. His cock was hardening rapidly, straining against the confines of his pants, aching to bury itself deep inside you. James knew this was wrong, that he should push you away and set things right. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when you were offering him such a tempting escape from his own demons.

Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of muscle and sinew, before slipping under the hem of his shirt. The touch of your fingers on his bare skin ignited a fire within him, and he groaned at the sensation. James bucked his hips up against you, desperate for more contact. He needed you, needed this, needed to feel something other than the emptiness that had consumed him for so long. 

He starts to grind against you, his hips moving in small, circular motions. The sensation of your clothed bodies rubbing together is exquisite, and he groans low in his throat as the friction builds. He can feel your heat through the thin fabric of his jeans and your skirt, and it's driving him wild.

Your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you arch into his touch. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, and he can feel the heat of your breath on his face as you press your forehead against his. Your noses brush, but you never quite close the distance, never quite allow your lips to meet. It's maddening, this near-contact, and it makes him want you even more.

He continues to grind against you, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. The ache in his groin is becoming unbearable, but he pushes on, determined to make you feel good, to show you just how much he wants you. He can feel his erection straining against his jeans, and he knows it's only a matter of time before he can't hold back any longer. You moan softly, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the sensations. James takes advantage of the moment, leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses along your neck. He nips and sucks at your skin, leaving a trail of marks that he knows will be visible in the morning. A thrill runs through him at the thought of you wearing his touch, of you bearing the evidence of his desire for everyone to see.

He feels your hands moving down his back, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. You explore the planes of his broad back, your touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He arches into your touch, a low growl escaping from his throat as your fingertips skim over the sensitive skin of his lower back.

James's heart pounds wildly in his chest as he feels your body pressing against his, your thighs straddling his hips. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he begins to grind against you. The sensation of your clothed bodies rubbing together is exquisite, and he can't help but let out a low, desperate moan.

You lean in closer, your breath ghosting over his lips as your forehead pressed against his. Your noses brush, but you never quite close the distance, never allowing your lips to meet. The forbidden nature of this near-contact only serves to heighten James's desire, making him ache for more.

"Please," he whispers, his voice cracking with need. "I can't... I need you."

You smile, a sultry, seductive look that sends a jolt of electricity straight through him. "Shh," you murmur, running your fingers through his hair. "I've got you. Just let go, and let me take care of you."

James nods, his face flushed with desire as he continues to grind against you. The friction is maddening, and he can feel his control slipping away with each passing second. He's desperate to feel your heat, your wetness, but he knows better than to push too far.

Your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you arch into his touch. The pain is exquisite, and he moans louder, his hips moving faster, more urgently, and he knows it's only a matter of time before he can't hold back any longer. You whisper words of reassurance in his ear, your voice low and husky. "That's it, James. Give in to it. Let me feel how much you want me."

James's moans become whimpers as he loses himself in the sensations. He's never felt so desperate, so needy, so utterly consumed by desire. He wants you more than he's ever wanted anything. He leans in, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he breathes greedily in your scent. It's intoxicating, and he can feel his body responding to it, his arousal growing with each passing second. He continues to grind against you, his movements becoming more erratic, more uncontrolled. "I need you so bad," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't... I can't take it anymore. Please, let me feel you."

You respond by pressing even closer, your body flush against his as you continue to whisper words of encouragement. "You're doing so well. Just a little longer, and then I'll give you everything you want."

James nods, his face contorted with pleasure and pain as he continues to grind against you. He's never felt so alive, so connected, and he knows that this moment will stay with him forever. No matter what happens, no matter where life takes him, he'll always remember the feel of your body against his, the sound of your whispering voice, and the overwhelming desire that consumes him in this moment.

James's body trembles with desire as he continues to grind against you, his movements becoming more and more erratic. The friction between your clothed bodies is unbearable, and he can feel the pressure building inside him, threatening to burst at any moment. Your reassuring whispers in his ear and the way your body responds to his touch only fuel the fire burning within him. 

He's lost in the heat of the moment, consumed by the desire to claim you, to make you his.

With a final thrust of his hips, James reaches his climax, his body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over him. He cries out your name, his voice raw with emotion, as he spills his seed, soaking the front of his jeans. The sensation of his release triggers something within you, and you follow suit, your body convulsing with your own orgasm. You press your forehead against his, your noses still brushing, but never quite touching, as you ride out the waves of pleasure together.

James collapsed back onto the couch, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. For a brief, stolen moment, everything felt right. He could feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, the lingering softness of your touch. But the quiet after was suffocating, and the reality of what he had done began to sink in like poison.

His mind started to race. What the hell have I done? The thought tore through him, a sickening knot forming in his stomach. The guilt hit him hard and fast, twisting deep inside. He’d crossed a line—no, obliterated it. This wasn’t what he was supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to take, to use someone like this, least of all you. He was a broken man, ruined, and he didn’t deserve you, not your kindness, not your warmth. Nothing.

Without warning, he sat up, his body tense as if ready to flee, and he pushed you off his lap with a roughness that startled both of you. The suddenness of it left you blinking in confusion, your eyes wide with hurt. You stood slowly, stepping back, unsure, your gaze searching his face for some explanation.

“You should go home,” James muttered, his voice cold, hollow. The words barely escaped his mouth, strangled by the knot in his throat. He couldn’t meet your eyes. “This was a mistake. I don’t want to see you again.”

The air between you became icy, your confusion shifting to hurt, and then something else—pain. He could feel it, could sense the betrayal rolling off you in waves, but he couldn’t bring himself to look, couldn’t bear the sight of what he had caused. “James…” Your voice was soft, pleading, as if you were trying to understand, to reach him through the walls he was so frantically putting up.

“No,” he snapped, the crack in his voice betraying him. His hands trembled, his whole body rigid with the effort to keep himself from breaking down entirely. “Please.” His voice wavered, the raw emotion in it spilling out despite himself. “Just go. Leave me alone.”

Silence filled the room like a weight. You stared at him for a moment, your chest tight, the sting of tears building in your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you didn’t understand, but the pain radiating from him, the sheer self-hatred in his voice, made it clear—he didn’t want you to stay. He was pushing you away, not because he didn’t care, but because he thought he didn’t deserve to.

With a slow, heavy sigh, you gathered your things, your movements deliberate, as if giving him one last chance to change his mind. You paused at the door, casting one final glance over your shoulder, hoping for something—an apology, a word, a look. But all you saw was his back, his broad shoulders hunched as if weighed down by the world. He didn’t turn around.

You bit your lip, fighting the tears as you stepped out, closing the door softly behind you. The echo of your footsteps down the hallway was the only sound that broke the stillness in the room. James remained where he was, standing frozen in place, his body shaking, not from desire but from the overwhelming torrent of emotions he could no longer suppress.

The moment the door clicked shut, James’s knees buckled, and he collapsed back onto the couch, his face buried in his hands. The tears came then, harsh and relentless, tearing through him like a storm he couldn’t escape. He hated himself—hated that he had let this happen, hated that he had hurt you. But most of all, he hated that he wanted you to stay. That he needed you to.

You’re doing the right thing, he told himself, even as his heart twisted painfully in his chest. You don’t deserve her. You don’t deserve anyone. But even as he tried to convince himself of that, the emptiness swallowed him whole. He had pushed you away, and now he was left alone, drowning in the guilt and regret that would never let him go.

James sank deeper into the couch, his fingers digging into the soft materials as if trying to hold onto something—anything—that would ground him. But there was nothing. No Mary. No you. Nothing but the silence and the ghosts of his past. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he had saved you by pushing you away—or if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

[hummingbird-games]

2024 in Review (Indie Games)

2023 | 2022 | 2021

Helloooo gamer friends!!!

I'm so tired.

Lol.

Anyhoo, y'all don't care about that!!! Y'all are here to see what games I played and what the heck I have to say about them! Reminders: I don't bash games I didn't like, and I try to post more in-depth thoughts and reviews and general yapping to Gem's Game Gems.

DEMOS

When Stars Collide - I am by no means a sci-fi girlie. I need a HEAPING dose of fantasy or fantasy elements to help me out. That said, y'all might remember how I went feral for Gilded Shadows, so I am locked in for this journey with WSC. It's just as mysterious and lore intense as GS, but also just as intriguing and engaging!

Love Me, Love Me Not - I looooove when a game charms me to pieces??? Our MC Addie, the introduced LIs, the story, the art??? Where do I begin?? Anyway, please check this one out y'all! I'm impatient for the full game (shocker, I know).

Threads of You: Beyond the Bay - So my thoughts and reactions for this one are on the side blog, but I really enjoyed the demo and I have eyes for Chris, Vince, and Alex hehehe.

Lost in Limbo - While I'd been keeping tabs on this game for what seems forever because of the character art that originally caught my attention, I almost didn't finish the demo because it was lowkey disturbing (I'm a wimp and not all horror is made equal). But!!! BUT!!!! I push through to the end, had a good time, noted that I need to play the full game in the daylight with the music turned down low. And I absolutely adore Ara and Xal so, so much.

A Simple Twist of Fae - Absolutely no one cares, but I read a lot of manga this year. Like, a lot-a lot. Like, ~180 books and 1/3 of that was manga. Anyhoo, When JMB announced she was cooking up this game, I was impatient to get my grubby hands on it. AND THEN I PLAYED IT AND IT WAS THE SHOJO INSPIRED GAME OF MY DREAMS?!?! Like.....I wish I could both have it on my computer and also on my bookshelf. Final build dropping when??? (Also the UI design is utterly delightful, I cry.)

The Summit Library (FULL DEMO) - The last time I reviewed this game, we got chapter 1 as a taste, and I was. Locked! In!! The full demo gives us the first 2 chapters as well as the previews for all the romance routes and while giving everyone a whirl I'm *still* undecided on who to go for in the future, I must mention this: TSL is so aspec friendly???? I do love a game with smut, don't get me wrong looks at College Craze but sometimes I have my moments of being overwhelmed/sliiiiiiightly repulsed and the variety of options you have to choose how you react and interact with the various LIs in this game is amazing. (I have more thoughts on this, so I'll try to remember to post to the sideblog, but please understand that this game is totally worth your attention and time imo!!!)

Fully Released & Played (at least 1 playthrough)

Rabbit Trail - This. Game. Is. SO. Cute. *punches the air* 😭🥹(Copy + paste of my review on the itch.io page -> This was so charming, so fluffy, so cozy, just delightful all around??? I've only reached one ending so far, but René is just the cutest protag to play as, and his interactions as he delivers his mail made me cheese so dang hard! (Also, I wanted to fight his parents for not properly appreciating their kid LOL))

Stuck by Design - I checked this game out because I was looking into games that fellow programmers had worked on, and this cozy game stumbled onto my lap. The music was perfect, the UI is beautiful and clean, and I thoroughly enjoyed the performance of the VA for the LI, Yuki.

Wake Me Up If You Need Me - I called this game older!HSDJY MC x Ryan coded and I'm still right. The voice actor MAKES this game, and the interactions the player has with Reed is so flippin' delightful?? All my love and adoration to the game developer. May they make more beautiful games.

CTRL FREAK - The developer team brought us The Faithfulness of the Universe which is a banger in its own right, and CTRL FREAK is the team's commercial, finished project that I also found delightful. The soundtrack and the animations are chef's kiss 💛

Breathless Winds - Ooo, baby, ooo. So. If there is only one game you play from this list and you have some spare cash to spend (at the time of writing, the game is on sale!!!) please, please, check this one out. It left me absolutely spellbound, both the orginal demo, and then the full game. While I didn't get to blog fully about this one, and I only tackled 2 of the 4 routes, this game is absolutely everything. This is my indie game of the year. Poppy and her journey resonated with me, and between the music and the art, everything just came together so perfectly.

Wake Up Magical Girl - Listen TF up, if miseri creates it, I'm gonna play it, idc, idc. That being said...this game had a kick to it that when I finished my first playthrough, I had to stare off into space and gather myself. It takes the concept of magical girls and heroism and gave me a teeny tiny existential crisis, but other than that, I'm fine, it's fine, play this game, thank you.

Sleeping Under Spells - God, I love me a game where I get to argue with a LI. I love it. Bonus points if it's lowkey stupid stuff we're bickering over LOL!!

Our Wonderland - Yeah, uh huh, you thought you'd escape me talking about this game this year, didn't yah???? Too bad. The fifth and final arc dropped this year and I played it and I cried and felt for the briefest moments that life was okay. To say something different than my review of last year, I love that this seems to be the game that helps fellow ace devs find and flock to each other, I'm not kidding 🤣 so thank you Carrot for helping us fellow aspec peeps feel seen and validated and understood!

I Watched a Full Game Playthrough and Highly Recommend

Replay Boys - Okay so technically at the time of posting, there's still one more video I'm waiting to watch (Naja of BlerdyOtome uploaded her stream to YouTube) but my Godddddd. I've had my eye on this game for FOREVER but I was lowkey waiting for it to move to itch.io (I'm still a lowkey Steam hater 🥹) anyhoo, watching this absolutely wild game made me go ahead and buy a copy for myself to replay at a later time, but it's just great. The summary only scratches this surface of what the game entails 🤣

Gemi’s Gushies

(a list within a list of games that have devs trucking along in the background and I want to spotlight for y’all)

Save the Villainess - Life got away with me and unfortunately I never finished my play of the demo BUT what I have played was fun and I hope to return to this in the new year!

Woman of Xal 2 - Plot Twist Studios is on that Sequel Train with the next installment of WoX!!! Which I'm VERY excited for!!! I've unfortunately only completed one playthrough of this game, but the first game is definitely a masterclass in replayability, and I hope next year I'll be able to do a second playthough as I wait for game 2's Kickstarter!

...

And that's 2024! Any shared favorites?

- Gemini 🫶🏾

[genericpuff]

rereading the og LO pisses me off bc why did Hestia take Kore’s coat??!! The Minthe plant situation, but as a side note Eros + Psyche was such a beautiful story in the beginning. Also do you plan on giving Hermes a partner?

OH so that's actually sorta explained in the physical books, there's a bonus chapter in Volume 2 that tries to make sense of it.

Frankly, like most of the bonus episodes, it doesn't really do a good job of filling in plotholes or logical inconsistencies, for a few reasons:

1.) I think it's wild that this episode was supposed to explain Hestia's cruelty in taking the coat (Rachel even addresses this in the author's note leading into the episode) but then Hestia is still kind of an irresponsible asshole when she just IMMEDIATELY starts infodumping to Apollo, completely unprompted, about how Persephone is the newest initiate in her virgin club. Like it's just bad writing for starters because it's clear Rachel's just trying to get the 'plot' of the episode rolling, but it's also like... wasn't this group supposed to be about protecting women from men? Why is she volunteering that information so enthusiastically? 💀 I get it's kind of a nitpick but it still kind of made me go "huh???" because it's frankly just none of Apollo's business as both a man and a non-member and there's just zero reason why Hestia should be releasing that kind of information publicly, especially when it's regarding such a sensitive and personal topic like virginity. Like was there seriously NO BETTER WAY for someone as "conniving" as Apollo to find out this info?? He didn't even intimidate or weasel the info out of her, she just started fucking spilling on her own 😭😆

2.) I don't know why Hestia just immediately took Apollo's word on what he "saw" and opted to go along with his idea to "punish her" which somehow led to the decision to take the coat. He doesn't specifically say to do that, sure, but it's clear she's taking his word over Persephone's literally IMMEDIATELY when she even says aloud that it's out of character for Persephone, and even after getting Persephone's side of the story in that episode where she confronts her, she still takes the coat ???

This is another one of those "where is the feminism???" issues because even with the bonus episode included all we get is "men are evil and awful!" despite the fact that Hestia is a grown ass woman who should be capable of making her own sound judgments. Like where was Hestia's OWN AGENCY that she could have used to decide Persephone was telling the truth about what really happened ??? It's obviously just another opportunity to villainize Apollo which, sure, okay, he's been established as a scumbag rapist at this point so he's undeniably a villain, but... why is Hestia not listening to Persephone at all? And then if that was supposed to be the point, why wasn't that actually addressed in the comic which was still ongoing at the time? Hestia didn't even have the nerve to bring the coat back to Persephone herself, it was Artemis who returned it to her in the end. So we never even get a proper resolution to Hestia's actions, she never apologizes to Persephone, she never takes accountability for her own mistakes in trusting Persephone's rapist over her (which is unfortunately something that happens a lot in these kinds of situations and would have been great to address in a story that's actually trying to be "feminist") and ultimately she just never grows as a character despite having such a direct impact on the main cast.

3.) What was the point of this bonus chapter, exactly? Like I guess we sorta know why Hestia took the coat now (if we don't take ANY of what I addressed above into account) but it doesn't explain at all why that was the decision, nor does it end up affecting the overall plot because Persephone still winds up working in the Underworld, she still spends a shitload of time with Hades, and Hestia is nowhere to be seen, despite the fact that she knows at this point through Apollo that Persephone has interacted with him. How does smugly taking the coat from a 19 year old girl who was recently force fed alcohol to the point of blacking out and then dumped in Hades' car address the original problem that was brought to her attention via Apollo? Despite the bonus episodes being used as a way to "patch up" holes in the narrative, it still doesn't really explain anything, it kinda just raises more questions than it answers.

(*I'll even add real quick that Rachel's apparent reasoning in her author's notes for these bonus chapters not being included in the comic is often so silly because the comic itself is full of so much pointless filler and nonsense that goes nowhere, while the actual important explanations get shoved into the back end of the physical books. It's incredibly backwards and tells me less that these were "deleted scenes" and more that they were attempts to backtrack on Rachel's own poor writing, with the added benefit of making money off it to boot due to these otherwise essential scenes and bits of information being exclusive to the physical books. Many "bonus episodes" feel more like they should have been in the comic and so many canon episodes that got published feel like they could have been bonus episodes. Again, at best, it's bad writing and bad editing, so much so that apparently even Rachel can't fully stand by her decisions because she can't "decide" if these bonus episodes are canon or not.)

4.) Yet another case of "the worst guy ever just made a good point" because even though Apollo's doing it for nefarious, self-centered reasons, he's not wrong that it was extremely concerning for Persephone to spend the night at Hades' place, and that's made worse by the fact that we know Persephone wound up telling her side of the story just for Hestia to punish her anyways. Unfortunately because Apollo has to be Bryce from 13 Reasons Why, the only angle he's coming at it from is "YEAH YOU BETTER GET REVENGE ON PERSEPHONE FOR DOING THAT!!! SHE'S SUCH A SLUT!!!", but there's a whole other separate angle here that his villainy is distracting us from, an angle that actually WOULD have accomplished the subjects of feminism that LO claimed to be tackling and failed at - why was Persephone put into that situation in the first place?

There's never any real consequence to Eros for intentionally getting Persephone blackout drunk and dumping her in Hades' car. There aren't any real consequences to Aphrodite for targeting a girl who did nothing but exist. There aren't any real consequences to Hades for offending Aphrodite within earshot by comparing her to a 19 year old girl who he just spent several minutes oggling through a window. The only one who's actually allowed to suffer consequences is the easily identifiable rapist character, because anyone who knows what sex is knows that Rape is Bad, but no one actually wants to identify and discuss all the other terrible actions and characters within this story - including the leading man who's supposed to be "perfect" for Persephone - because those actions are a lot more subtle and normalized and aren't capable of being consumed easily within a single tweet.

It's a no-brainer to understand "rape is bad"; it takes a lot more self-reflection and honesty with yourself - especially if you're part of LO's core demographic of both young teenage girls and middle aged women - to recognize that Hades and Persephone's relationship is predatory right from the start, and that being a feminist doesn't mean exclusively caring about 'good' women and punishing the 'bad' ones.

[fleckficgirl]

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 13

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: sex, age gap, language, violence, mental illness, assault

Word Count: 2651

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Arthur called immediately after you hung up the phone with Tina and Chantelle and asked you to meet him at City Central Station at noon.

“I have to go out to Long Island,” he said, a heavy undercurrent of apology in his voice. “And I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to come with me.” 

“Sounds perfect,” you’d replied instantly.

Arthur laughed, surprised. “I, uh…well, I know it’s not very romantic. But it’s kind of an emergency and-”

“I’m there,” you said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Arthur said. He sounded tense, flustered. You wished you were in the same room with him so you could put his arms around him and calm him down. Comfort him with your body. Among other things. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Arthur assured you. “I’m not hurt or anything. I can explain everything to you on the train. I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be sorry, Arthur,” you stopped him. “I’m happy just to spend time with you. No matter what we’re doing.”

You heard Arthur pause, releasing a relieved-sounding sigh on the other end, his tone softening. “I…I couldn't stop thinking about you last night,” he confessed. “I think I even dreamed about you.”

“Really?” you felt an uncontrollable smile spread across your face. Only Arthur Fleck could make you smile like a complete loon. 

“Sorry. Is that weird for me to tell you that?”

“No!” you blurted. “In fact, I dreamed about you!” 

Arthur laughed. “You did? Last night?”

“Uh…not last night, exactly.” You felt your cheeks heating up and felt glad Arthur couldn't see you blush. “Earlier. Like…maybe after the first time I saw you?”

“That’s sweet, Y/N. Was it a nice dream?”

“It was…very nice.” 

If only Arthur knew the true carnal nature of that first dream. You’d get around to telling him someday…hopefully sooner rather than later. 

And now, one hour later, here you were: one hour standing on the train platform waiting for him. 

You glanced around Gotham City Central Station at all the bustling people - still rushing, still hustling, still rat-racing on a Saturday morning. They were like hamsters on one big gigantic wheel in a cage called Gotham, and although you knew you were one of them, having a day off gave you a refreshed perspective: Exactly who was winning this race? Why did normal people have to work themselves into the ground just to scrape by? 

It seemed the winners of this race had already been called a long time ago. 

Among the noise, traffic and images vying for your attention all at the same time, you locked eyes with a poster of Thomas Wayne. You shook your head. He was on television all the time these days. People seemed to think Wayne could “fix” Gotham and wanted him to run for mayor. 

To put it bluntly: you thought those people were delusional. 

There was no denying Gotham was a broken place. But was the wealthy mogul Thomas Wayne really the one to fix it? How could he know what the people of this God-forsaken city needed to get back on their feet? How could someone born and raised with an endless supply of silver spoons in his mouth possibly relate to living on the fringes of society?

The crowd parted and Arthur appeared, holding a newspaper under his arm. He spotted you and smiled. You ran up to him and leapt into his arms. Arthur caught you, spun you, then dipped you over and kissed you. The two of you were living in your own musical fantasy in the middle of a dirty, overcrowded train station.

“I’m so sorry that this is our second date,”Arthur said as he lowered you to the ground. “I wanted to plan something more romantic…a walk in the park, or maybe a trip to the-”

“Arthur,” you stopped him. “Anytime we’re together is romantic. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now but here.” 

He smiled shyly and gave you a tender kiss on the cheek.

The graze of his lips against you triggered a slew of wants. You wanted to kiss him again. Properly. In fact, you wanted to do a lot of things to him. The memory of the soft pull of Arthur’s lips against yours the night before had stirred within you like a fever since then - but you were worried that if you started, you wouldn't be able to stop. And there were too many people around. You’d have to behave yourself. At least for the time being. 

“So where exactly on Long Island are we headed?” you asked. “And what’s this mystery mission you couldn’t tell me about on the phone?”

Arthur drew in a heavy breath. “It’s…look, I don’t want to sound crazy. I’m not sure if I believe it myself, but last night…”

He was interrupted by your train pulling loudly into the station. 

“That’s the one we want,” he jerked his head towards it.

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed. “I just remembered, I didn’t buy a ticket!”

“Don’t worry,” Arthur fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out two small pieces of paper. “I got yours.” 

After finding two empty seats together, you placed your hand on Arthur’s and listened. Listened as he told you everything: How his mother had been writing letters to Thomas Wayne (funny how you’d just been thinking about him…though to be fair, his smug face was plastered all over the city). How he hadn’t paid his mother’s compulsive letter-writing much mind. She was set in her ways and tended to overfocus on things that were of little to no consequence. And finally: how last night after coming home from your date, an unexpected burst of curiosity had cajoled him into reading one of her letters…

…in which his mother had disclosed something totally unexpected. Something shocking.

“Thomas Wayne?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows. 

Arthur nodded.

“Your…father?”

You blinked. This was so out of left field, it had gone past left field and back to right again. You struggled to pick a reaction; there were so many coursing through your mind and heart. You could only imagine how Arthur was feeling. 

“How did your mother even know him?” you asked, agog.

“She used to work for the Waynes. As their housekeeper. Just before I was born.”

You shook your head in stunned disbelief. “I have to say, I don’t know what to think. Do you believe her, Arthur?” 

Arthur was silent for a moment, and you gave him space to find the words.

“At first I didn't, really. She hasn’t always been…the best at telling the truth. She thinks things are real that aren’t. I wonder sometimes if I get that from her.” 

He unfolded the newspaper on his lap and began leafing through the pages.

“But now, when I look at pictures of him - and his pictures are everywhere - I can’t help but see a resemblance. Maybe it’s all in my head, I don’t know.” 

Arthur landed on a picture of Wayne and his wife, gazing admiringly up at him as he waved to a crowd. He tore out the photo and creased back the edges so you both could see it more clearly. 

“Do you think I look like him, Y/N?” Arthur asked. 

“I don’t know…” You scoured the famous man’s face. The curve of his cheekbones, the arch of his eyebrows. 

Like a bolt of lightning, it struck you.  

“Shit, Arthur. I don’t know if I’m going crazy, but…now I do kind of see a resemblance!” 

“I know,” Arthur said. “Now that I see it, I can’t stop seeing it.”

You peered in closer. 

“But why wouldn’t she say anything until now?” you leaned back in your seat. “Why wait all these years?” 

“She said she signed some papers promising she would keep it a secret. It was to protect me as their child, some big scandal coming out. But she said they loved each other. They just couldn’t be together.” 

“Jesus,” you sat back in your seat. Through the window, the entire world seemed to blur as the train lurched away from the city. “What a fucking rollercoaster.” 

“I have to go see him,” Arthur’s voice broke into your racing thoughts. “Talk to him face to face.”

“Of course,” you agreed. “Go to his house and confront him. It’s the only way to get to the bottom of this. ” 

You’d been to Wayne Manor only once before: a field trip in the second grade at Burnley Elementary School. Over a decade later, all you recalled about the visit were the Waynes’ dobermans that barked at you and your classmates the entire time. Like you were intruders even though the Manor was a historical landmark with paid tours.

The Waynes were a piece of work. 

“Come on,” you took Arthur’s hand as you exited the train station. There were no cabs around like in the Gotham, and the walk from the train station to Wayne Manor would take at least half an hour on foot. 

Long Island was worlds apart from the city. Away from the endless, screeching roar of Gotham, you could actually hear yourself think. 

You and Arthur made your way down the tree-lined roads. It was autumn and the leaves were beginning to turn gold and fall to the ground. You liked how Arthur made a point to always walk on the outside of the sidewalk, creating a buffer between yourself and the street. Maybe his mother was crazy, but there was no denying she had raised a gentleman. 

Arthur seemed to relish holding your hand, the sound of dry leaves crunching beneath your feet. 

“So what was that dream you had about me?” you asked playfully, giving his hand a light squeeze. You looked over to see his cheeks flush. His shy smile swept you off your feet.  

“Oh,” Arthur gave a small laugh. “I dreamed you were onstage with me.” 

“Doing your comedy act?” you giggled. “Like a singing, dancing comedic duo?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “I mean yes. Kind of. We were singing and dancing together. I was in my red suit and you were…”

He paused. You shot him a quizzical look.

“I was what?” you prodded. 

“It’s embarrassing.”

“What was I, naked or something?” 

“No,” he shook his head. His face was even cuter (if such a thing was possible) when it was all embarrassed and flushed.

“You were wearing your Snow White costume.”

Not the answer you’d expected. You let out a laugh. 

“I guess that makes sense,” you conceded. “Given you’ve seen me in it at the children’s hospital.”

“It’s not just that,” Arthur confessed as you walked along. “It’s because…well, I didn’t tell you this at the time because I thought it would be weird. But Snow White was the first movie I ever saw in the movie theater.” 

“That’s not so strange,” you replied. “It’s a classic, after all.”

“Well…she was also my first love. Snow White, I mean. I saw her up there on the screen and I fell in love with her.”

Now you were blushing. And as stupid as it was, you also felt a pang of jealousy course through you. Yes, you were jealous of a cartoon princess Arthur’d been infatuated with as a child. It was beyond ridiculous, but the truth was: hearing Arthur loved anyone besides you made your heart pound with envy. You just hoped he still didn’t have a thing for her. 

“You know…” Arthur’s voice broke into your racing thoughts. “I hope this isn't weird of me to say, but…I'm honestly surprised you would ever be interested in someone like me.” 

You stopped in your tracks. Was he trying to give you the brush off? Tell you he was still in love with a childhood celluloid dream? Your heart was jumping up and down, side to side. You couldn’t imagine going on without him in your life. 

“What makes you say that?” you asked, measured tone and breath, trying specifically not to sound as psycho as you really felt.

Arthur shrugged. “I’m…older than you, I live with my mother. I have no money. And you…”

You wanted to protest everything he was saying, but reminded yourself to wait patiently for him to complete the thought. 

“...you’re a college student.”

“I was a college student,” you corrected him.

“You deserve to live in a beautiful place like this,” Arthur said, gesturing at the verdant surroundings. “Someone who can give you that.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” you blurted. You could feel another episode coming on and as much as you trusted Arthur, you really didn’t want to lose it in front of him again. You especially didn’t want to lose it because he was dumping you. And on Long Island, no less. Crazy behavior was normal in Gotham, but here they’d have you arrested for so much as a shriek here.

“No!” he shook his head immediately. “Not at all. I just…don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping you from a better life. You know I have all these problems…”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wasn’t breaking up with you. He was just concerned, thoughtful, putting your needs ahead of his. 

It only made your feelings deepen for him even more. 

“Does it bother you?” Arthur asked. “That I’m older than you?”

“No,” you replied. “Does it bother you? Have you ever been with someone younger?” 

Arthur pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and shook one loose, bringing it to his mouth as he fished around his other pocket for a lighter. 

“I haven’t really dated at all,” he said with an embarrassed wince. “I’m not someone most people would…ever be interested in.” 

“That’s not true,” you said, still reeling from the shock that this beautiful, sweet, tender man had never dated. Though to be fair, knowing he’d loved anyone else would have triggered more jealousy. At the same time, you couldn’t wrap your head around how no one could see how amazing he was. 

“I’ve never dated, either, Arthur,” you pointed out. 

“But that makes sense. You're a lot younger than I am.”

You grinned slightly. “Have you been doing the math? How much?”

Arthur inhaled the first drag of his cigarette, and it billowed out into the clean Long Island air. 

“You told me what year you graduated last night. If I’d stayed in school, I would have graduated in 1964. Which means I'm fifteen years older than you. It took me a second to do the math. That was never my strong subject. None of them were.” 

You shook your head, then suddenly found yourself laughing. “Actually…”

Arthur looked up at you with big, worried eyes. “Yes?”

“I like that you’re older than me,” you confessed.   

“You do?”

“Is that weird?” Now you felt a little embarrassed. You didn’t want Arthur to think you were a freak, but you were just being honest. “I don't like guys my age.”

“You didn't meet anyone you liked at school? I'd think lots of guys would be interested in you.”  

“‘Interested’ is a relative term,” you scoffed bitterly. “The guys at Gotham U are…let's just say a lot of them are book smart. And come from rich families. But they act like fucking animals.”

Arthur frowned. “Animals? How do you mean?”

You shook your head. “I'll tell you about it some other time.”

Arthur nodded respectfully.

“The truth is, Arthur,” you continued. “I never liked anybody that way…until I met you.”

Arthur smiled at the ground as you plodded along in sync, then silently took your hand.

“I feel the same way about you,” he said. “When we’re together, it just…feels right.” 

“I know,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. “So many things in my life haven’t felt right…haven't been right. But this does. And if it feels right, nothing else matters.” 

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if my heart was a house (chapter 4) - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember now Written for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The text tone startles you awake a good fifteen minutes before your alarm is supposed to go off, just like it’s been doing for the last week. You only have text tones set for two people, and one of them is fast asleep in her bedroom right now. You open Tomura’s text, your hands shaking and read two words: good morning

Tomura never used to text good morning. Tomura was pretty inconsistent at texting in general. But Midoriya got him a phone, just like he promised you, and ever since, Tomura’s texted you good morning every day. You haven’t gotten used to it. Your heart skips a beat every time you wake up and find a message from him waiting for you.

good morning, you text back. did they wake you up for rounds?

He’s still in the hospital. They keep saying he’ll get released soon, but every time they do, something else crops up that they have to fix before he can come home. Your phone pings in your hands as Tomura responds. every damn day. better than getting a flashlight in my face to make sure I didn’t die overnight.

Your heart clenches tight and twists in a way that’s not good for you this early in the morning. Another text from Tomura pings to life on your screen. did I wake you up

my alarm was about to go off anyway. You hesitate for a moment before sending the next message. not to be weird but I’d rather wake up early than miss out on talking to you.

Your phone starts ringing. You silence it in a hurry, then lift it to your ear. “Hello?”

“It’s not weird.” Tomura’s voice is raspy and exhausted. “If you think I don’t want to talk to you all the time, you’re out of your mind.”

You find yourself curling in, pressing your phone hard against your ear so you don’t miss even the sound of his breathing. “I missed you.”

“Missed you more.” There’s a slight catch in Tomura’s voice. “When can I see you? Why haven’t you come to see me yet?”

They’re fair questions. Questions you don’t blame Tomura for asking. Questions he probably wouldn’t need to ask if he knew about Chihiro – who you can’t tell him about unless you’re face to face. “I was going to wait until you were out of the hospital. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Fuck that. I need to see you.” There’s a sharp edge in Tomura’s voice at first, but it dulls almost instantly. “Do you even want to?”

“Of course I do.” The need to see him is overpowering. You remind yourself that you can’t just drop everything and drive to Tokyo out of nowhere at least a few times a day. “I really want to, Tomura. I just have to get stuff settled a bit. And it’s a long trip. I don’t want to have to leave again as soon as I get to you.”

That’s not the only reason. You wish it was, but it isn’t. You’ve been holding off on visiting him because you don’t know how to tell him about Chihiro. And because Chihiro can’t decide if she wants to come, too.

You don’t think it’s a good idea. You don’t thinking breaking the news that Tomura’s got a daughter while his daughter is in the room is a winning strategy, especially since you and Tomura never talked about having kids. Seeing his initial reaction could be bad for Chihiro. Bad for Tomura, too. And part of it is selfish, plain and simple. It’s been so long. You want to see him alone. You want one moment where it’s just the two of you, like it was before, before you tell him something that will change everything for good.

“I want you to stay,” Tomura says. “You might not want to. Once you see what I look like now.”

Spinner’s seen him. You asked Spinner for details over FaceTime a few nights ago, and you saw the stricken look that flashed across his face. He’s been through hell and he looks it. It’s still him, but it’s – bad. “I mean, you’ve always been too pretty to handle.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Tomura used to blush when you said that to him. You wonder if he’s blushing now. “Just come see me. Soon.”

“I will.” Your alarm goes off in your ear and scares the hell out of you, at the same moment as Chihiro knocks on your bedroom door. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I’ll text – and maybe we can talk later if you’re up for it –”

“I’ll be up for it.” Tomura’s voice softens in a way that makes your eyes sting. “I love you.”

He only says it over the phone, never by text. You’re tired of angsting over whether to say it back. “I love you, too,” you say. You hang up the phone, hit snooze on your alarm, and sit up in bed. “Chihiro, are you still there?”

“Yeah.” Chihiro pushes open the door, crosses the room in quick steps, and sprawls out on your bed. “Was that him?”

You nod. “They wake him up early for rounds. Usually we just text.”

“Is he getting better?”

“I think so,” you say. “He keeps asking when I’ll visit.”

Chihiro nods. She turns her head and buries her face in the pillows, speaking facedown just like Tomura used to. “I think you should go see him first. Alone.”

“Really?” You try and fail to hide your shock. “I thought – you didn’t want me to hide stuff anymore –”

“I think you should see him first,” Chihiro says again. Her voice wavers slightly. “I don’t want to be there when you tell him about me. In case –”

She takes a deep breath, lets it go. “In case he doesn’t want me.”

“If he doesn’t want you, he doesn’t want us,” you say. She turns to look at you, her red eyes bright with tears. “I’m serious. You’re the most important person in the world to me, since the day I found out about you. We’re a package deal.”

“But you love him,” Chihiro says. “I heard you say it. I don’t want you to lose him because of me.”

“That’s not what it would be,” you say. You reach out for her, praying she won’t shrug you off, and when she doesn’t, you pull her close. “It’s my decision. My choice to put you first. Chihiro, I – I lived without him for nineteen years. I can do it again.”             “I don’t want you to,” Chihiro says. She blinks, and tears flow down her face. “I want everything to be okay. And if it isn’t – because of me – I don’t want to be there to see it.”

“Okay,” you say. You’ve been walking around with a lump in your throat since you got the first phone call from Tomura. Now it’s a little bigger. “I’ll find a time to go see him.”

“This weekend. Satomi’s family is going skiing, and they said me and Kaori could come too.” Chihiro pulls down the sleeve of her pajama shirt and roughly wipes her eyes. “I won’t be home alone and you won’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll be worried that you’ll break your leg skiing.”

Chihiro snorts. “Maybe I should. Me and him can meet when we share a hospital room.”

“That’s one way to get to know each other,” you say, and she laughs. Her laughter and Tomura’s are your favorite sounds in the world. “You can change your mind any time this week. I won’t let him know I’m coming until the day of.”

“I’m not gonna change my mind.” Chihiro huddles a little closer to you, and you hold her tight. “I just want to know what happens next.”

“Yeah,” you agree. You kiss her forehead. “Me too.”

“Do you have everything?”

“All my stuff,” Chihiro says. She’s death-gripping the strap of her backpack, and her knuckles are white on the handle of her suitcase. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to go?”

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to go?” you counter. “It’s okay to change your mind.”

“I’m not changing my mind,” Chihiro says. “You need to go see him.”

“I know.” There’s been an anxious knot in the pit of your stomach since your alarm went off this morning, since you responded to Tomura’s good morning text with a heart and nothing else. “I’m going to. I just have to pack.”

“You’re bringing him his games,” Chihiro says, “and the quilt you made. And his clothes?”

“I’m holding off on those. Spinner said he lost a lot of weight.” Your chest tightens at the thought of seeing him again, seeing him soon, seeing him to day. Seeing what nineteen years on death row really did to him. “Thanks for helping me finish the quilt. Now it’s from both of us.”

She doesn’t help you with quilting a lot. This time she offered, and the two of you spent an afternoon together pinning the quilt top to the backing and batting so you could finish it off on your machine. It was nice to spend time together. To talk about Tomura and not talk about him, without the tension that’s been heavy in the air since she found out he was still alive. Chihiro checks her phone. “Satomi is on her way. Kaori had better get here soon. Unless her mom freaked out and said she couldn’t go.”

“I think that’s them.” You can see puffs of snow coming up along the road. Kaori’s mom is kind of a crazy driver. “Okay. I’m guessing you probably don’t want to hug and kiss goodbye in front of everyone – or at all –”

“I want to say goodbye,” Chihiro says. She hugs you tight, like always, and your eyes burn. “Mom, I just – it’s going to be okay, right?”

“No matter what,” you promise. At least for her.

Kaori’s mom skids into the parking lot, spraying you and Chihiro with snow as she careens past to a parking space. You kiss Chihiro’s forehead, then draw back as Kaori and her mom join the two of you. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Kaori says. She glances back at her mom. “I’m not going away forever. Stop crying.”

“I’m not crying,” Rika insists. “The wind is in my eyes!”

“It’s not even that windy!” Kaori rolls her eyes. “Come on, Chihiro. Let’s wait over there. If we pretend we’re leaving now, she can’t embarrass me anymore.”

Chihiro lets Kaori pull her away, glancing once over her shoulder at you. “Go have fun,” you say. “I love you.”

It doesn’t matter if she says it back. The important thing is that she knows. But you’re not going to pretend it isn’t an enormous relief to hear her say she loves you, too.

Satomi’s parents pull up in a ridiculously fancy car, and they aren’t driving themselves. Their driver is the one who hops out to help Kaori and Chihiro load their bags, and Satomi’s mom rolls down the back window to talk to you and Rika specifically. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of them! And take lots of pictures to send!”

“Thank you,” you say. Rika is choking up again. She just nods. “Have a really good trip.”

The Noda family’s driver is a much better driver than you or Rika. Their luxury car doesn’t kick up even a hint of snow or ice as they pull out onto the road. You watch them go, your throat tightening the way it does any time you say goodbye to Chihiro for longer than a school day. You know she’s coming back. You know your house is still her home, and probably will be for a while. And at the same time, you know there will come a day when she leaves and doesn’t come back. A day when home is somewhere else, and you’ll have to find a way to be at home with yourself again, alone. Maybe.

Rika is thinking along the same lines, but she’s a lot less calm about it. “They’re leaving us,” she almost wails. “They’re never going to come back. We’re going to be old and alone forever.”

“No we aren’t,” you say firmly. “They’re going on a weekend trip and they’ll be back soon. Don’t you have a whole wild weekend planned?”

“I’m going to be worried the whole time,” Rika says. She glances sideways at you, then gives you a suspicious look. “Why are you so calm about this?”

“I’m crying on the inside.”

“No you aren’t,” she says. “Why?”

You and Rika have gotten coffee once before, because Chihiro made you. You’re not close enough friends for you to even start to explain this. “I don’t want her to worry about leaving me at home,” you say. “I need her to know that I’ll be fine. And I’ve got some stuff to do this weekend.”

“Staying busy. I like that.” Rika sighs. “I was going to invite you out for girls’ night.”

“That’s really nice of you,” you say, “but I can’t. I’m driving down to Tokyo.”

“Driving?” The look Rika’s giving you makes sense. It’s a thirteen-hour trip by car. “Why?”

You turn up the collar of your coat against the wind, squaring your shoulders as you turn back to your car. “I’m meeting an old friend.”

Once you’re home, there’s not much left to do. You already have Tomura’s things packed. You pack an overnight bag for yourself, along with a change of clothes, then hit the road, your nerves humming worse with every kilometer that passes.

You remember the last time you made this drive. You were four months pregnant with Chihiro, barely able to see the road through your tears, everything you owned jammed into the back of this same car. It felt like the only thing you could do, and it still feels like the worst thing you’ve ever done. Running from your friends, from your past, from your memories. This is when you decided, right? That you would never tell your baby – your son or your daughter, because you didn’t know yet – what happened to their father. It was impossible for you to live with. You weren’t going to put that on your child.

Now you’re going the opposite way, and everything is different. You haven’t gotten used to it, and now you’re out of time, even though the drive is a long one, even though you left bright and early and don’t get there until night is already falling. You park in the hospital parking lot and rest your head against the steering wheel, struggling to breathe. Your phone buzzes. Chihiro, asking if you’re there yet. You tell her yes, tell her you love her. She asked you to come here and tell Tomura the truth, and you promised you would, which means you need to get your shit together. You force yourself to suck down a few breaths, mimicking the pattern your midwife taught you while you were in labor, then get out of the car.

Tomura started out in the hospital nearest to the prison, but then they transferred him to the University of Tokyo Hospital for better care. The receptionist makes you confirm your ID before she’ll give you Tomura’s room number, and once she’s given it to you, she asks if she should call up and let him know you’re coming. You shake your head. This needs to be on your terms.

It feels like the longest walk of your life – first to the elevator, then along the Internal Medicine ward, looking for Room 517. For some reason, you thought it would be quiet, but instead it’s loud, the air full of the sound of machines, announcements, nurses talking, patients’ families chattering in their rooms. Most of the doors are open. Room 517 is closed. You touch the door, wondering if you should knock, and it swings open at the slightest pressure of your fingers.

The first thing you register is how bright Tomura’s room is – not just the light, but the decorations, too. You can tell who’s been here by what they brought. A stack of books, some of which are clearly from Twice; Twice is the only one who’d think to bring comic books. There’s a Switch balanced on Tomura’s nightstand, and games, probably from Spinner. There’s his phone, charging on a fancy charging pad, courtesy of Midoriya. Toga brought Tomura flowers. It takes you a second to find Dabi’s gift, but once you do, you find yourself struggling not to laugh. It’s a voodoo doll, in the shape of Tomura’s adoptive dad, and it looks like it’s been attacked by a porcupine.

The room looks lived-in. Tomura’s been here for a while. But he’s not in the bed like you thought he’d be. Instead he’s sitting on the edge of it, bare feet flat on the floor, his head in his hands.

His hair is so long, but even with it shrouding his shoulders and back, you can tell how thin he is. You’ve never seen him sit that way, his shoulders hunched in a way that looks agonizing, and even in the courtroom when the verdict was handed down, he never looked this defeated. Before you can think better of it, you’re in motion towards him.

Tomura looks up. His face is hollow, his red eyes enormous and shadowed. They widen when he sees you, and he rockets to his feet, stumbling towards you. Everything you’re carrying falls from your hands, your fingers going nerveless and shaky – and that turns out to be a good thing, because Tomura loses his balance two steps away from you. Or maybe he’s falling into your arms. It doesn’t matter what it is, or why. He’s here. He’s alive. He’s free.

Tomura slumps against you, holding on painfully tight. You’d hug him back the same way, but he’s so thin, almost brittle. It’s an effort to keep your grip loose as your hands roam across his shoulders, his back, finding their way to the places you always used to hold. It’s muscle memory to cover the back of his neck, to splay your fingers at the small of his back. This is how it was before. Everything is different, but holding him still feels the same.

Tomura’s face is buried in the side of your neck, his breath huffing out unsteadily against your skin. “You still smell like you.”

“You smell like the hospital,” you say without thinking, and Tomura scoffs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you get up –”

“I’ve been waiting. I don’t want to wait anymore. Tomura claws at your back with shaking hands, keeping you close even though you’ve got no intention of pulling away. “You didn’t say you were coming today.”

A stab of guilt drives through you. “It was a really busy morning. And a long drive. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. You’re here.” Tomura’s response is fast and sure. “Fuck, I missed you so much –”

“I missed you too.” Four words doesn’t feel like enough to describe how it’s felt since they dragged him away from you in the courtroom. You don’t think there are enough words anywhere in the world for that, and your eyes are starting to burn. If you start crying, you won’t be able to hide it holding Tomura like this. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“You’re coming too. And don’t say it’s too small. We used to sleep in a twin.”

“And then we got a bigger bed.”

“I liked the small one better.” Tomura sags against you. “Come on. Please.”

You help Tomura back to the bed, then go to pick up everything you dropped on the floor. Once you’ve set it down next to his bed, you’re back in range, and he pulls you awkwardly onto the bed with him. It’s a tight fit, a lot tighter than the bed in your old apartment, but the way Tomura maneuvers you to get you into the perfect position for him to sleep on is exactly the same. You remember how surprised you were the first time he climbed all over you. How quickly it became your favorite part of falling asleep at night.

“Spinner said you were in Hokkaido,” Tomura says, once he’s gotten mostly settled. “Why’d you go that far?”

“It was quiet,” you say. “Things were hard here, afterward. I thought it would be easier there.”

“Toga thought you’d died or something. Tomura’s grip on you tightens. “You stopped talking to everybody. Nobody heard from you again until the verdict. Why?”

“It’s –” You wonder if Spinner or Midoriya put him onto this, set him up to ask the questions that would lead to this answer. “I needed space. For a lot of reasons. A lot of things changed.”

“Spinner said you weren’t married,” Tomura says, and you nod. “He said you aren’t seeing anyone.”

“You and me never broke up,” you say, and Tomura scoffs again. You can feel tension building in his shoulders. “I was never seeing anybody. I never wanted to.”

Tomura takes a deep breath that rattles and rasps. “Then why weren’t you here already?”

Maybe it’s better this way. You can rip the band-aid off, see how he reacts, figure it out from there. And if it’s a disaster, if everything goes wrong, you still had these few minutes. A little piece of time where you and Tomura belonged to each other again. You’ve lived on less for nineteen years. Maybe it’ll be enough.

There’s no good way to say it. “I found out I was pregnant two weeks after your sentencing.”

Tomura freezes in your arms, but only for a second. Then his grip tightens almost convulsively, tight enough to make your ribcage creak. “You kept it.”

“Yes.”

“What – is it?” Tomura stumbles on the phrasing, his voice shaky in a way that makes you sick to your stomach. “What kind?”

“A girl,” you say. “Her name is Chihiro. She’s eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” Tomura repeats. He’s not pulling away from you, but that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s steeling himself to draw back and tell you to get lost. “Why isn’t she here?”

You’ve spent the last month spinning off in a hundred different directions, catching on a thousand different responses Tomura could have to the news that he has a daughter. All of them were terrible, and none of them were what he just said. “What?”

“Why isn’t she here?” Tomura repeats, and while you’re struggling to find your footing, he’s gotten way ahead of you. “You didn’t come down here right away because you couldn’t leave her. Does anybody else know? Midoriya – Spinner – how fucking many –”

He breaks off, incoherent with some emotion you don’t recognize. ��How many people knew about my kid before me?”

“Just Midoriya and Spinner,” you say. “I was on a conference call with them the night your verdict came back, and they heard her call me Mom in the background. And then –”

There’s nothing funny about this situation, but you’re still struck by a miserable urge to laugh. “Spinner accused me of marrying somebody else and forgetting about you, so Chihiro took my phone and switched it to a video call. He was so shocked he dropped his phone.”

“Why?” Tomura’s voice is hoarse. “Tell me.”

“She, um – she looks like you. A lot like you.” You remember looking down into her face after the doctors handed her to you, seeing those red eyes blink open for the first time. “Anyone who knows you and sees her –”

“Do you have a picture?”

“Yeah.” You swallow hard as you fumble your phone out of your pocket. “Here.”

It’s a good picture of her, one of thousands you’ve got saved on your phone. In your opinion, she’s never taken a bad photo in her life, and this one is from her birthday last year, as she smiles over a messily frosted cake studded with eighteen candles. Her smile is lopsided, like Tomura’s is. Her red eyes are crinkled at the corners, and you remember how your heart twisted as you snapped the picture, how you wished Tomura could see her, too. That he could meet her. That all three of you could celebrate together, like a family’s supposed to. Chihiro takes after Tomura, but you see your own shadow in her features. If someone saw the three of you, they’d know you belong together.

Tomura’s breathing hitches as he studies the photo. He reaches out left-handed to zoom in and it’s your turn to stop breathing for a second – the index and middle fingers on his hand are gone. “Tomura –”

“She looks happy,” Tomura says quietly. “Why isn’t she here?”

You don’t know what to say, and half your mind is still stuck on what happened to Tomura’s hand – and just like before, he gets ahead of you. “She doesn’t want to meet me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I get it. Why would she? I’m a convicted murderer –”

“You aren’t a murderer! You were never a murderer.” You can feel your temper starting to rise, even though you aren’t angry at Tomura – just this situation, everything that happened to put you both here. You didn’t realize just how angry you were until now. “She wants to meet you, Tomura. She wanted me to tell you first, because she’s worried you don’t want to meet her.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to meet her?” Tomura asks. “She’s my kid.”

You were prepared for your heart to break today. You weren’t expecting it to break like this. “You and me never talked about kids. We barely even talked about getting married. She asked if she was planned and I didn’t want to lie –”

“So what if we didn’t plan her? That doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have – you told her I didn’t want her? What is wrong with you?”

“That’s not what I said!” Tears spring to your eyes, and your voice shakes with them, even though you’re the person in this situation with the least to cry about. “I said I didn’t know. I tried to tell you. I wrote you so many letters, and you never wrote back – what was I supposed to think? I didn’t want to get her hopes up if it turned out you didn’t –”

Your voice breaks. Tears slip down your cheeks, and when an impulse you’ve been following for two decades wells up within you, you give in and look away, trying to hide before Tomura realizes that you’re crying. It’s not about you. It’s never been about you since you had Chihiro, so why is this so hard for you to learn? But Tomura won’t let you look away. His hand comes up to the side of your face and turns you back towards him. You can see tear tracks on his face. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Tomura, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” He’s braver than you are. He’s not trying to look away, and in spite of the tear tracks, his eyes are clear. “I love you. Do you love me?”

“I always have,” you say. “Tomura, if you aren’t okay with –”

“Then it’s fine,” Tomura interrupts. “I was in prison for nineteen years. Nothing makes sense anymore except my friends and you. I love you. And I want to meet our kid.”

“She wants to meet you, too,” you say. Tomura manages half a smile. “Can I tell her?”

Tomura nods. You dig up your phone from wherever you dropped it on the bed and open up Chihiro’s contact. Tomura curls himself around you, chin notched over your shoulder even though you should be the one holding him. “Do you have more pictures of her?” he asks. “Are there any of both of you?”

“I can send some to you. Or you can look through my photos and pick.” In the meantime, you’re hesitating over what to say to Chihiro, just like you would have hesitated over what to say to Tomura if he hadn’t cornered you. Finally you just tell the truth. I told your dad. He wants to meet you.

Tomura nods. “Where is she? Did you leave her alone?”

“No, she’s with her friend’s family. They invited her to go skiing. I think she wanted to have something to distract herself with.”

“She shouldn’t distract herself too much. Not if she took after me.” It feels like Tomura’s trying to crawl into your skin, with how hard he’s got his face pressed into your neck. “I’m clumsy as shit.”

“Only when you’re tired. Nobody’s all that dexterous on four hours of sleep.” You find one of Tomura’s hands and lift it to your mouth, loving the way his fingers curl and flex as your lips brush his skin. His fingers. “Tomura, what happened to your hand?”

“It’s fine.”

“The other one,” you say. “Tell me –”

“Tomura?” The voice is unfamiliar, and it’s coming from the door, which you didn’t quite close when you came in. You try to sit up, but Tomura won’t let go of you, and while he doesn’t let you go far, you’re still able to get a look at the newcomer. He’s really tall, with lavender hair trending silver, and he’s covered in dark purple tattoos – on his arms, his neck, on his face around his eyes. “Who’s this?”

“My girlfriend,” Tomura says. “I told you about her.”

The tattooed man’s eyes widen. “I thought you hadn’t heard from her. You asked me to come back again today because she wasn’t answering your texts.”

“I surprised him,” you say. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. You’re here.” Tomura lets you sit up, but as soon as you do, he’s all over you again. “That’s Kurogiri. He was in the cell next to mine.”

Kurogiri. You look at him, puzzled, and he explains. “My proper name is Shirakumo Oboro. The people I knew while I was in prison call me whichever name they feel comfortable with.”

He rests one hand against the doorframe, tapping his first knuckle against it in a way that strikes you as too precise to be a nervous gesture. He’s giving Tomura a meaningful look as he does it, and Tomura dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “It’s good you’re here. Now you can meet each other.”

Shirakumo keeps tapping away at the doorframe, and suddenly it occurs to you. “Is that Morse code?”

“It’s how we talked in there.” Tomura’s arm wraps tightly around your waist, which is probably a good thing – he’s all over you to the point that you’re in danger of falling off the bed. “Safer than talking out loud.”

“Tomura, we’ve discussed being honest about your experiences,” Shirakumo says. “The people who – love you – should know what really happened.”

Tomura makes a dissatisfied sound. “Fine. We weren’t allowed to talk to each other out loud. We could only talk to the guards if they talked to us first. We had to talk in Morse code so we wouldn’t get punished.”

Your stomach lurches. “You got punished for talking?”

“Not if we were talking in Morse code.” Tomura shrugs. “I practically broke my knuckles telling the guy in the cell next to me to shut up.”

You don’t know what to say. Shirakumo can tell. “Tomura, how much have you told her?”

“There’s more important stuff to talk about,” Tomura says. “I have a kid.”

Shirakumo coughs. “What?” he says blankly, and starts tapping the arm of his chair, only for Tomura to double-tap the bedrail, cutting him off. “Let me finish. I’m not saying –”

“She’s mine,” Tomura snaps. “I’ll show you.”

He grabs for your phone, but it slips through his fingers, and you barely catch it in time. Tomura unlocks it – how does he still know your passcode after all this time? – and pulls up the photo you showed him. “Here. Look.”

Shirakumo reacts the same way to Chihiro’s picture as Spinner did to seeing her on the video call. “I’m sorry,” he says at once. He’s talking to you. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. It’s just – usually if somebody gets out of prison and finds out their partner had kids, those kids aren’t, uh –”

“Theirs,” you say. Shirakumo nods, vaguely embarrassed. “She’s Tomura’s. I haven’t had sex in nineteen years.”

Shirakumo chokes on thin air, but you weren’t saying it for him. Tomura is grinning into your shoulder. “Nice. Me neither.”

“To be fair, nobody was getting laid in there.” Shirakumo’s voice feels almost artificially bright. “I’m glad I’m here, Tomura. Like we talked about before – it might be easier to explain about what happened with some backup.”

“No.” Tomura’s voice goes flat, and you can imagine his expression closing off. “We don’t need to right now.”

“We’ve talked about this, Tomura. The people who love you want to help you, but they can’t help you if you lie to them.”

“I’m not lying. I’m just not talking.” Tomura sends himself the photo of Chihiro, then picks up his own phone, absorbing himself in it. “You can tell her, if it’s so fucking important.”

“Tomura –”

“You should know,” Tomura says. He glances up at you, and you can see that his red eyes have gone tight with pain at the corners. “He can tell you. His memory’s better than mine.”

Shirakumo’s shoulders are tense, too. “It’s your experience, Tomura. I shouldn’t be the one who tells her.”

“She should know. And I can’t.” Tomura fumbles for the call button and presses it, and a few moments later, a nurse comes in. “I want to sleep now.”

The nurse takes a glance at you and Shirakumo – mainly you, since you’re still sort of on Tomura’s bed. “They can stay,” Tomura says. “They need to talk.”

The nurse shoos you off the bed to get Tomura settled, and as you watch, she sets up an IV drip. It doesn’t go into Tomura’s arm, though – it goes into a tube taped to his chest, one that vanishes beneath his hospital clothes. Your stomach lurches. “Is that a central line?”

Tomura shrugs, his eyelids already fluttering. The nurse tugs down the neckline of his shirt to inspect the site. “I told you not to be so rough on this,” she scolds Tomura gently. “The doctors will take it out soon.”

Tomura mumbles agreement, and the nurse leaves. Once she’s gone, Tomura grabs your hand and yanks you closer. “Stay,” he says. “So I know it wasn’t a dream.”

“It’s not a dream.” You raise his hand to your mouth and kiss his fingers, not pulling away until he’s relaxed into sleep.

You lower his hand to the bed, keeping your fingers laced with his, and turn to look at Shirakumo. Shirakumo still looks a little guilty. “Sorry,” he says again. “I’ve come to care a lot for Shigaraki Tomura. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“Why does everyone think I want to hurt him?” You feel your temper yanking on you, and worse, your eyes are starting to burn. “I didn’t leave town to hurt him. I tried to tell him about Chihiro. He’s the one who didn’t read my letters. He didn’t even bother to write back and tell me to leave him alone.”

“He couldn’t,” Shirakumo says. “Once someone is sentenced to death, all contact with the outside world is cut off. I don’t doubt that you wrote him letters, or that you tried to call or visit. The prison wouldn’t allow it. They don’t allow it for anybody on death row.”

He couldn’t write back. Not only could he not write back, he probably didn’t even know you were trying to reach him. You spent so much time hurt, so much time angry, so much time cursing him for leaving things the way he did in the courtroom, for refusing to let you see him or even let you hear his voice. You would have settled for any acknowledgment that he remembered you. All the things you thought to yourself when you didn’t want to live, when Chihiro was the only thing keeping you alive – “Did he know?”

“Not at first.” Shirakumo drags one tattooed hand down his face. “That wasn’t a good day. There were a lot of not-good days.”

Some part of you wants to cover your ears. Some part of you wants to refuse to ask, to demand that Tomura tell you himself. But then you look at him, fast asleep, an IV line attached to a port in his chest. His face is too thin. So is the rest of him. His lips are cracked and his eyes are sunken and two of his fingers are gone, and even if there wasn’t physical evidence of what’s happened to him, you know there’s even more damage you can’t see. You won’t make him relive it just to tell you. But you need to know.

You raise his hand to kiss it again, reminding yourself that he’s here. Alive. Safe. Free. Then you look back to Shirakumo, steeling yourself. “Okay,” you say. “Tell me everything.”

<- Chapter 3

taglist: @lvrrinx @aryuunachigiri @shigarakislaughter @lvtuss @deadhands69 @xeveryxstarfallx @stardustdreamersisi @handumb @warxhammer @atspiss @shikiblessed @baking-ghoul @boogiemansbitch @agente707 @cheeseonatower @koohiii @minniessskii @f3r4lfr0gg3r @dance-with-me-in-hell @evilcookie5 @issaortiz @lacrimae-lotos

[aothotties]

Mommy Chaser pt. 3

Previous Chapters: (1)(2)

Warnings: swearing, masturbation, protected sex, riding, cunnilingus (m & f receiving), biting, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, lots of kissing!

Word count: 3.9K

Note: I am SO sorry it took me this fucking long to post this but I hope you all enjoy it!! :)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Mika, I don’t want to jinx anything with Eren but he’s damn near perfect.” You gush to your best friend while you pace back and forth. 

“Y/N! You must like him if you’re talking like this, are you sure you two haven’t slept together yet?” She asks somewhat playfully, Jean is sitting right next to her waiting for you to answer. 

“Ha ha, you know I haven’t slept with him. I can’t lie to you and say I’m not curious though.” You lay on the bed and bite your lip at the memory of your last encounter. 

The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils when he wrapped his arms around you for a hug. Or the comforting feeling of his muscular abdomen against your fingertips. 

“Are you still there?” You’re drawn out of your daydream by Mikasa and feel heat rush to your cheeks. 

“She’s probably thinking about getting dicked down right now.” Jean mumbles and your jaw quickly drops at such a wild, but somewhat true, accusation. 

You hear a smack and a yelp from Jean before Mikasa apologizes for his vulgar statement. 

“Please ignore him, we’re playing drunk board games and somebody’s having fun.” 

You can feel the poor woman’s embarrassment through the phone and let out a giggle to reassure her. 

“That sounds like fun, and even though your husband is an idiot…he’s not completely wrong.” You can’t help but admit defeat as more reminders from the other night flood your mind. 

“Oh my he’s really on your mind, isn’t he? I say go for it; I’ve known him for a long time and he’s a good guy. You deserve to move on and be happy.” You feel your worries die down the more she speaks, it’s almost like she’s giving you her blessing. 

“He’s corny as hell and eats enough for three people!” Jean adds and receives another light smack, this time he pulls Mikasa on top of him. 

You laugh and roll your eyes at his drunken words. You stare at the phone in confusion when there’s a lingering silence, soon followed by whispers and giggling. 

“Y’all, I’m still here. I’ll call you guys tomorrow night. Love you!”

“We love you more! Let us know how everything goes, Jean!” You hear your friend let out a fit of giggles before the line disconnects. 

You swipe over to your messaging app and sigh nervously. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard for a few minutes, you chew on your bottom lip and let out a sigh. 

You’re not even sure why you’re so anxious about all of this. Your baby girl is with her grandmother for the weekend, you don’t have to stress about working at all. It’s quite literally the perfect weekend for him to come over. 

“It’s now or never.” You mumble to yourself and start typing on the screen below. 

You smile at the last message before double-tapping it and leaving a heart. The feeling of the soft mattress and warm blanket have you drifting off. 

On the other side of

town Eren is acting like a teenage boy. If he could bounce off the walls in excitement he absolutely would, he’s only slightly ashamed of the bulge in his pants forming. It’s not his fault you’re the most divine woman in his eyes, you’re just so perfect. 

The thought of knowing that he’s going to finally get to see all of you, he’ll finally get to touch and squeeze your perfect breasts. All the nights of imagining what you look, feel and taste like have him leaking precum. 

He pulls off the suffocating boxers and lets out a hum of relief when the cool air makes contact with his hot tip. A thick hand wraps around the base and drags up, massaging the pink tip each time. 

“Y/N” He whines as he rapidly fuck his fist, his free hand grabs the sheets below as he gets close to his release. 

His tipping point is the thought of what your tight pussy is going to feel like wrapped around him. The hand grabbing the sheets slaps over his mouth as he moans loudly into his palm. 

He falls back onto his pillows and lets out a sigh of relief as he catches his breath. He looks down at the mess on his hand and huffs sleepily. 

“Just one more day.” He mumbles to himself while wiping the sticky fluid off himself. 

The next day finally rolls around and you’ve never felt more nervous for anything in your life. 

“Pull yourself together girl, you’ve had lots of sex before.” You say to yourself in the mirror while gently patting your cheeks. 

Your pep talk comes to an end when you hear the doorbell ring, you look over yourself once again in the mirror before shutting the light off. 

“Who is it?” You ask as you walk up to the door, a smile forms when you look through the peephole and see Eren on the other side. 

“It’s your future husband, open the door, sweetheart.” He responds playfully and you shake your head to refrain from laughing. 

You quickly unlock the door and move to the side so he can walk in. He drops his bag on the floor and removes his shoes before pulling you into a hug. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you in closer. You take a deep breath and get a whiff of his cologne. 

“You smell nice.” You mumble against his chest, he rests his chin on top of your head and hums contently. 

“Thank you, I was thinking of you when I bought it. Are you hungry? I brought snacks for us to have.” He sets you back on the ground and you shake your head in response.

“I had lunch not too long ago, I can make you something if you’re hungry.” You politely offer and he’s the one to shake his head.

“I ate beforehand too, and when it’s time to eat dinner will be on me. I’m gonna be treating you today. Now show me one of those movies you were talking about.” He turns you towards the living room and you both sit on the couch.

“It’s called Bridgerton Eren.” You correct him, he playfully rolls his eyes and turns on an episode he’s never seen.

You get comfortable on the couch and cuddle up to Eren. You focus closely on the screen and give your full attention to the show.

In the few months of you two meeting one another, Eren has never understood why you love this show so much. 

Maybe it’s the attractive cast members, or maybe it is the plot, he’ll just have to watch and see for himself. That only lasts for a few seconds before his eyes land on your focused state. 

He grins at how entranced you are before the sound of moaning catches his attention. His eyes lock onto the TV and he raises an eyebrow. 

“So this is what you watch when I’m not here?” He smirks at you and you shake your head. 

“Not all the time! Sometimes I watch Modern Family or Brooklyn 99.” You say matter in rebuttal. 

He nods his head and hums in response before giving his attention back to the screen. He watches closely as the actors kiss and caress each other so tenderly. 

He shifts around on the couch to relieve some of the pressure in his underwear and glances to make sure you don’t notice anything. Thoughts of his hands groping your body and his lips kissing down your neck flood his mind as the scene goes on. 

You’re no better, there’s wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of him ravishing your body. Oh, how you long to be able to feel his mouth on yours, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you come from another orgasm. 

You look over at Eren and are surprised to see how intensely he’s staring at the television. His Adam’s Apple moves up and down as he Mswallows nervously and keeps his eyes on the screen. 

You sit up and hold back a laugh at the blush that forms on his cheeks. 

“No I’m good, why are you alright?” He rubs the palms of his hands and his jeans and you nod in response to his question. 

“I’m doing great, if you want we can watch something else.” You reach for the remote, he gently grabs your hand and shakes his head. 

“You don’t have to do that, it’s fine. I’m fine.” He reassures you with a smile and a pat on the leg. 

“You know what's nice about being a mom?” You tilt your head and run your fingers through his hair. 

He inhales deeply and hums in relaxation at the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp. He looks over at you and gives you a tired smile, he can’t help but crumble under each stroke of your fingers. 

“You can almost always tell when someone’s lying.” You whisper in his ear and watch as he has a full-body shiver. 

You place a finger on his lips to silence him. He swallows nervously but refuses to take his eyes off yours. 

You find yourself climbing into his lap as if it’s your throne. The finger that was covering his lips traces the outline of his mouth. 

He wraps an arm around your waist to pull you in closer, you close the space between you two and press your lips together.

You release his hair from its ponytail and tug gently at his roots, a groan falls from his lips at the sensation and his hands steadily move down your back, they hover above your ass and you pull away from his lips.

“You can touch me Eren, I want you to touch me.” You stroke his cheek with your thumb and he nods his head, he pulls you down by the back of your neck and slides his tongue in your mouth.

This time you’re the one that’s making sounds, you whimper into the kiss when his large hands rub the fat of your ass. His hips buck abruptly and your whimpers turn into moans, you can feel his hard cock against the fabric of your shorts.

Your hands grab at his shirt, urging him to take it off quickly. He gets the hint and pulls away from your lips to remove it. You bite your lip at the sight of his body from under you, you can’t help but trail a finger down his abdomen.

“Don’t be shy baby.” He teases and takes your hand trailing it down his body at a teasingly slow pace. 

He smirks at how shy you’ve suddenly become, only watching his body and no longer making eye contact. He takes your hand and stops the movements at the waistband of his pants, you gulp and feel heat rush to your cheeks.

“Do I make you nervous, pretty girl?” He chuckles and tilts your chin upwards so that you’re both face to face.

You shake your head and take the opportunity to massage the outline of his dick through his sweatpants. 

He hisses in pleasure and throws his head back against the couch, you experiment by replacing your hand with a roll of your hips.

“Fuck baby, do that again.” His hands help your hips grind back and forth, you fall forward and smash your lips on his. 

He smirks against your lips as your moans get louder with each buck of your hips. He pulls back from your lips and raises your tank top, he leans forward and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. 

“Eren!” You gasp in pleasure and dig your nails into his shoulder. He groans at the sting and gently bites down on the bud.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you fear that you might come in your pants if he doesn’t let up, not like he would mind that anyway.

He pulls away and places a gentle kiss on your breast before taking the other bud into his mouth to give it equal attention. Your back arches and you feel more of your arousal soak into your panties, you know for a fact that there’s a wet spot on Eren’s pants.

Eren feels like he’s in heaven with the feeling of your hands in his hair and your clothed cunt grinding against him. He pulls off of your nipple with a pop and falls back onto the couch, he takes a moment to catch his breath.

“I’m not too much for you, am I?” He asks in all seriousness, you give him a genuine smile and shake your head in return.

“No Ren, not at all. If I’m uncomfortable then I’ll let you know.” You reassure him and press your forehead against his, craving the feeling of being as close to him as possible.

“I’m gonna touch you now if that’s okay?” He plays with the waistband on your shorts as he waits for an answer. 

You permit him by moving next to him so you can slide your shorts and panties down simultaneously. 

You move to sit back in his lap and he quickly stops you. He lays you back against the pillows on the couch and looks over your body.

“I want to get a good look at you first.” He praises, his eyes take their time as he scans every inch of your body. His dick hardens in his pants at the sight of your wet cunt right in front of him.

“Just a quick taste, yeah?” He asks more himself than you, he spreads your legs and makes eye contact with your heat.

His pink tongue licks a gentle stripe up your clit and you shudder at the feeling. After the positive reaction, he dives deeper into your cunt, and your hands immediately grab the couch. 

His large hands securely grip your thighs and his tongue darts in and out of your dripping hole.

Your back arches off of the couch in response to the immense pleasure between your legs. He moans into your cunt as your juices flow down his throat, he rubs your clit with the pad of his thumb and watches you squirm around.

“E-Eren!” You gasp as you feel your orgasm creep up on you. Eren replaces his tongue with his fingers and licks your sweetness off his lips.

“You gonna come on my fingers, baby? Go ahead, princess.” His long fingers curve upward and you grab his wrist with a sense of urgency.

“I'm gonna cum Ren, f-fuck I wanna cum on you!” He pouts when you stutter and nips at your exposed neck, he places kisses up your neck and stops at your ear.

“You will baby, I want you to cum on my fingers too. I want you nice and wet for me.” He pulls you closer with his free hand and pumps his fingers at a quicker pace.

You pull him into a kiss and moan against his lips as you release on his hand, you bite his lip as you pull away and he removes his fingers from your cunt. 

He slides a finger into his mouth and closes his eyes as he saviors your sweet nectar. You copy his actions and suck on his middle finger, making sure to maintain eye contact with him.

“You’re trying to kill me.” He says jokingly, his dick on the other hand jumps when you pull off of his finger.

“Not quite yet, I still have to return the favor.”

You press against his chest and undo the tie on his pants, your fingers drag along his thighs as you pull his pants and boxers off. 

You watch in awe as his dick springs free and rests on his stomach. You wrap a hand around the base of his cock and massage the base, he sighs in pleasure at the feeling of your soft hand against his warm skin. 

His eyes widen when your thick lips wrap around his sensitive tip, he looks down to see your brown eyes staring into his green ones.

You mentally pat yourself on the back at the look of deep pleasure displayed on his face. You take more of him into your mouth and relax your throat with each inch you

Eren gathers some of your hair and holds it up 

into a makeshift bun, he hisses and watches you in admiration. 

His eyes close tightly and he finds himself gripping the cushions on the couch. The feeling of your wet tongue massaging the veins on his dick has him seeing stars. 

His grip on your hair tightens after you fully take him down your throat. Your moans send vibrations to his dick that spreads pleasure throughout his entire system. 

“Fuck baby girl, you take me so well.” His grip loosens on your hair and he guides your lips up and down his shaft. 

You moan at the salty taste of his precum coating your tongue, you take a look at the man above and squeeze your thighs at the imagery. 

His head is thrown against the back of the couch, his chest heaving up and down as little pants leave his pink lips. His abs flex with each suction of your lips, and his pretty brown hair falls in his face when his eyes meet yours. 

You give him a slight smile and he flashes you a weak one in return, he gently pulls you off his cock and back into his lap. He closes the gap between you both with his lips and sighs into your mouth. He pulls your shirt off and throws it somewhere in the living room. 

You moan passionately as his soft hands roam your body so freely and delicately. He pulls away to catch his breath and gives you a small laugh. 

“Not to ruin the moment, but there’s condoms in my bag.” He rubs your thigh with his thumb and you nod in remembrance. 

“Oh shit, yeah you’re so right. Duh!” You ruffle through his book bag until you find the small aluminum package. 

Tearing it open with your teeth, you raise your hips so you can properly slide it on him. He bites his lip and more precum can be seen dripping from his tip as the condom goes on. 

You throw a leg over his waist and hold onto the back of the couch to maintain balance. He rests his hands on your hips and massages the skin to ease any nerves. 

You lower yourself slowly and gasp at the feeling of his tip nudging its way through your entrance. Eren helps guide you down his shaft at a slow pace, his fingers grip your hips tighter and you moan at the stretch. 

“T-take your time pretty girl. We’ve got all day.” He rubs your cheek with his thumb as your thighs tremble with each inch your pussy swallows. 

You nod your head and focus on getting as much of his thick cock inside of you as you can. Erens mouth falls open at the way your tight heat sucks him in with each movement. You finally bottom out after a few more seconds of pacing yourself, he tangles his fingers with your manicured ones and kisses your hands. 

“You okay?” He wraps a finger around one of your coils and you nod your head in return, he leaves small pecks on your cheeks to ease your mind. 

“You’re a lot um, t-thicker than I imagined.” You sheepishly confess this brings a smirk and chuckle from the man below you. 

“Is that so baby? You’re telling me my confidence didn’t give it away.” He teases, you hit his chest and he thrust upward in retaliation. 

The sensation of his thick tip hitting your sweet spot draws a sultry moan from you. 

“How do we get that sound to happen again?” He experimentally bucks his hips again from under you, you dig your nails into the couch at the stretch from his cock and the pleasure it’s bringing to your body. 

“ ‘Ren! F-feels so good.” You throw your head back as you bounce up and down in his lap. 

The green-eyed man below you watches in content as you set the pace and fuck yourself silly on his hardened cock.  Jolts of pleasure course through his veins, and his heart rate speeds up with each movement of your hips. 

“ c’mere beautiful.” He pulls you into another kiss and pistons his hips upward to fuck against your g-spot. 

He holds you in by the back of your neck when you squirm in pleasure, your whines are swallowed by his groans which only egg him on further. 

On your end, you feel another orgasm building up in your lower stomach. The feeling of satisfaction is drawn out of you each time his thick cock head taps your cervix. Your gummy walls draw him in more each time he fucks into you. 

“I-I’m gonna come Eren! Please don’t s-stop.” You cry out as your second release quickly hits you, you fall limp against his lap and his thrust keeps you moving. 

“Am I too much baby? You’re such a pretty girl.” He compliments you and watches as you try to weakly bounce atop him. 

You shake your head and whimper as you climax against him yet again. 

“I didn’t even do anything that time, I didn’t realize my sweet girl was so sensitive.” He playfully pouts and kisses your cheek delicately. 

“ m-my legs are tired Ren.” You huff and he nods while giving you a sympathetic nod in return. 

“ ‘s okay mama, let your man take care of you, just a little bit longer like this. You feel so good.” He praises through gritted teeth. 

He has you wrap your arms around his shoulders while he holds the sides of your hips. He massages your smooth skin with his palms before controlling the speed of your hips, a low growl leaves his lips as your cunt drips down his eager cock. 

“Oh my god, yes yes fuck!” You cry out as your climax rushes upon you again. 

Any moans that Eren was holding fall out of his mouth as you clench and cream all over his thick shaft. He pumps his cock into you a few more times to ride out your orgasm before pulling out abruptly. 

“Can you handle a little more baby?”

That was the last thing you remember before you awake from a deep slumber. The room around you is dimly lit by your bedroom lamp, which you didn’t even realize you made it to…

Your thoughts are interrupted by Eren peeking his head in the door with a bright smile. You return the gesture and signal for him to join you on the bed. 

“Did you get enough rest? You were out for like 2.5-3 hours.” He holds back a laugh as you look away in embarrassment. 

“Yeah, I think I’m well rested.” You let out a yawn and groan loudly as you stretch, your head turns to look at the time and your eyes widen. 

“8:30?!? Eren you came over at like 1:45! Oh my god, are you hungry?” You rush out of bed and head to your kitchen, only to be surprised by takeout on the table. 

“I told you, dinner and everything else today was on me.” You hear from behind you, you turn around and cross your arms. 

“Well, don’t you just have the answers to everything?” You walk up to him and smile. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

Ari

[seirindono]

TMS - Author's note (Arc 1)

Today I'm stepping up to talk about TMS for a while. It's going to be a lot of blah blah, no TLDR, so hang in there or save it for later if you're brave enough, haha (¯▿¯)

So, another chapter of TMS draws to a close, with the difference that this time it's a whole saga that's coming to an end! That's a big relief for me, given that we recently celebrated the comic's 4th anniversary! That's almost the entire duration of my college life, and that's both an impressive and terrifying achievement lol.

The comic is divided into 3 arcs, each separated by an interlude. The first runs from part 1 to 8, with 201 pages total (wow!). In it, you are introduced to Mel, a young skeleton with a rather unclear past, who accidentally arrives in a a foreign timeline, along with other well known skeletons. Nowadays it's just an isekai haha. Throughout the arc, she proves to be a cautious Monster, quiet and somewhat withdrawn compared to the other skeletons we come across, notably Rus, Blue and Axe, who each got their own sequences.

Still, Mel in the last few scenes is starting to show more initiative, and the interlude will make this even more obvious, but we can expect her to open up a lot more during the next Arc, about her past, motives, goals and thoughts.

I could go on at length about what's in store for us in the interlude, but given that it's due for release sometime in 2024, I'm going to talk about the general story line instead. Although we follow Mel who is foreign to what's going on in this universe prior to her arrival, the other characters and events suggest that strange phenomena are taking place in Ebott, leading many people to become embroiled in a highly unusual affair. Crossing timelines, earthquakes, mysterious apparitions in the forest, something is afoot and the situation seems to be at a turning point when Mellow gets here.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with the situation and what to do next. Some are serious and pragmatic, like Black, others optimistic, like Blue, and others, like Papyrus, find themselves completely backed into a corner, forced to do their best to fix whatever needs to be.

A special case, however, is Axe, whom Mel meets in the forest as she investigates Mt. Ebott. The two have diametrically opposed views of their current condition. One wants to return to her world by any means necessary, regardless of the advantages of a peaceful world. The other, not so much. Both refuse to talk about their past and ignore the other's circumstances, but a sense of familiarity drives them to try to convince the other to stay or go. These are two stark positions to reconcile, and while we can expect Blue and the other skeletons to have their own views on the subject too, Mel and Axe are strangely "committed" in this interraction and resort to violence, spurred on by a unknown substance that causes Axe to momentarily lose control.

Mel is wounded, Axe unconscious, and the status quo disrupted. Other consequences follow this confrontation, and several questions are raised: Can Blue really help Mel when Axe accuses him of having already given up on going home himself? What is this mysterious entity Axe came across a few days earlier? The vibrations? What was that substance that made him go berserk? And what made him stop? Can we trust Mel and what she tells us? And many others.

Because as I'm sure many of you have come to realize, Mel has proven to be a rather unreliable narrator (or at least character since you don't follow her actual POV). Blatantly lying or omitting facts to others and readers alike, it's hard to know her next move and whether she's genuinely forgotten important infos (for it's well established at this stage that she has hazy memories and that they continue to deteriorate. The same applies to her health).

In the same way, each part of TMS so far has raised more questions than it has answered, but I can confidently say that the road is paved for Arc 2 to answer and put in perspective most of them, ahah.

Ah, this is also the moment when I can announce that ALL skeletons will be featured in the Interlude. Should be. Hopefully.

I'd also like to point out a few narrative changes for Act 2! The central characters, in particular. Original cast characters such as Undyne, Metatton and a veiled character will be more formally introduced, but we'll also meet up with characters we've already bumped into, but in a much more concrete way, such as Frisk and Alphys. I can't wait for you to get to know them! You can also expect more pov changes, more elipses and so on. Things are moving fast.

But that begs the question. When is it due? As said before, the first Arc lasted 4 years and I'm entering my last (and most crucial) year of college. I still don't know if I'll have time to get much of it done in 2025, but on the other hand, I'd like to strike while the iron's hot lest TMS be discontinued after a 1-year hiatus and my entry into the working world. Student loan, life and all. There are still plenty of things I'd like to bring to this project, and I now have the skills to actually carry them out, but on the other hand, the time involved has also increased exponentially.

Tbh with you, as an animation student, it's been one of my dreams since 2020 to do one of TMS's sequences in animatic or full anim, or even a trailer for the comic! But as a solo team, it's just unreasonable and I know it. But the parasite ----. Don't get me wrong, I could, but it would take me months and it's just not realistic when 80% of my time has to go into professionnal work that goes into my portefolio or adult stuff. I can't affort to invest time in solo-ing it or to recruit and lead a team over one side project of mine ( ´ ▿ ` ) So we'll most likely stick to classic pages.

But the same goes for collabs, community events, side stories, asks, edits, dubs, testing other platforms, regular animatics. Love all of that. Really. But I never have the time to because, man, I'd love to actually finish TMS someday ahah. It all comes back to the age-old problem of “lots of ideas, little time”, and it's so frustrating but, it's a choice I have to stick to, so bear with me as I vent my frustration. Just for tonight (´ ∀ `, *)

So, yes. Act 2. Next year? Probably? It's a long interlude, so you'll get smth in the meantime, but it's likely to decide the future of TMS and whether Act 2 sees the light of day as I imagine it or if...well, something else replaces it.

bringing back this doodle cuz it seems fiting lol

Anyway, I also wanted to thank you for your engagement with Part 8!

I don't know how other comic artists experience it, but for me it's a very isolated work, and as much as I love working alone, I enjoy the interaction with readers most of all.

Seeing people losing their mind over a serious scene, or chuckling at a dumb gag, or just simping over the characters and art. It's just great, and very rewarding. Likewise, I have a blast answering questions about the TMS universe, reading tags and receiving memes, witnessing people go increasingly mad with messages full of indecipherable screams and hearts. Makes me giggle and kick my feet everytime and I can't wait to drop the next lore bomb or funny scene bwahahah

And while we're on the subject, I'd like to say a special word of thanks to the legions of rebloggers who make it their business to spread the word about TMS. You sweet, lovely, candy scented folks. And to my dear mutuals - with whom I interact objectively so little - who have no idea how a single message or note from them drives me bonkers. Thanks for dropping by. And of course to my super Patreons who support me despite the sparse updates, but to whom I'm more than grateful. Love you all.

Sounds like a farewell message. It's not lol. Just making sure they get the love they deserve.

The post is getting long and I'm kind of done pretending I know how to write organized notes so to wrap things up, here's an exhaustive list of what I'd like to get done this year and/or discuss in more detail another day. •Make a new masterpost (for Act 2) •Analyze/Comment certain sequences from Act 1 to clarify or give context •Redraw and rewrite part 1 and 2 •Make more bonus content again *ahahahahahaha*

•Re open or close the Discord (partially abandoned and it's all on me, but I'm still mulling it over).

•Finish the Interlude and enjoy and nice hiatus

And that's about it? Congratulation for reading this and making it this far! You were there!

Be well, and see you next time.

Seirin-

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