toodymcdoody
toodymcdoody
Nee Nee
724 posts
21 years old… yo mama. just my thots :)
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toodymcdoody · 2 days ago
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bf ate me out so well that i spent the rest of the day thinking about it
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toodymcdoody · 3 days ago
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TIME TRAVELLER AU PART 15
Part 14 is here. Feel free to check out the rest of the TTAU masterlist here. My complete MASTERLIST is here.
His eyes open to the sound of commotion.
“It’s him. It’s him! He’s back!”
He sees the white ceiling first, and once they��ve adjusted to the light, his eyes slowly flick from one wall to the next, until finally landing on the nurses talking in hushed tones.
“He’s back… but what has he returned to? His grandmother is gone, his uncle is dead and his wife? Missing. He’s returned to an empty home.”
“You say missing, I say she ran off with someone else. She probably knew that Mr FitzGeorge would’ve caught her and thrown her in an asylum the moment he returned and caught her with all those men!”
“Beth, I think they were just her employees or friends. She couldn’t be having an affair with all of them.”
“Oh you don’t know deviant women like her; they’d stoop to any level of depravity if it got them what they wanted.” Beth huffed. “And what can you say about her character if she’s seen hanging around at the wretched club! Thank heavens it burned down before corrupting all of London!”
Silas closed his eyes before letting out a loud exhale, catching their attention as they gasp and rush to him.
“M-Mr FitzGeorge! You’re awake!” The other nurse said. “I’ll get the doctor!” She ran out of the room, leaving Beth with him, who was fretting over him, hands finding ways to be useful as they offered him water, then went to adjust his pillows, then his blanket.
Silas ignored her. Perhaps she was trying to cover up for the fact that she’d been caught badmouthing his wife.
The doctor came in with the nurse, along with two police officers. After the initial check up was done, the officers began their questioning.
“Where is your wife, Mr FitzGeorge?” Flashbacks from the night appeared before his eyes.
I was buried alive in a coffin.
You slapped him across the face, making him snap out of it. “SILAS!! This is not your fucking grave! GET THE FUCK UP!”
You pulled him out of the grave.
He felt a throbbing ache in his back.
He was struck by a metal rod, making him fall. “Silas!” You dove towards him and shoved the man away from him, his uncle William.
“No!” You shielded Silas with your arms as he struck again, hitting you. “Stop! You’ll kill him!” You jumped over Silas to shield him as his uncle began raining down strike after strike, not stopping until you screamed in pain.
You blacked out and a figure came up behind his uncle, grabbed him by the neck, choked him and then slashed his throat.
He took in a sharp inhale as he recalled the tall figure turning to him, knelt down down and picked you up.
“If you don’t sacrifice for what you want,
What you want becomes the sacrifice.”
He looked back at Silas.
“You’ll never see her again.”
“The Ripper.” Silas whispered. “The Ripper has taken her.”
The officers shared an alarmed look, whispering something to each other before turning back to him.
“Lets start from the beginning. Where were you for the past 4 months?”
Silas took a deep breath as he began.
It started the day when Y/n had sent over the divorce papers. He remembers standing by the window of his study and seeing a figure out in the snow-covered backyard, near the trees. He went to investigate, taking the papers with him but when he reached there, he found a snowman dressed in a coat and hat, clearly disguised as a man to draw him out and the next he knew was being struck on the head and blacking out.
When he woke up, he found himself in a cell, dimly lit by a torch outside the bars. The walls were made of thick concrete, and there were no windows.
For days, he didn’t have any human contact. Food would be thrown into his cell, often a stale piece of bread. The person who would do this would be wearing a robe with a hood that covered his face and Silas made no attempts to talk to him. He wasn’t about to give into their satisfaction of initiating negotiations. Aristocratic ego.
Finally, after who knows how long, a masked figure came. He was wearing a golden ring that glimmered in the dim light. The mask was black with golden patterns on it, and the man was well-dressed in a three-piece suit, paired with a top hat. It was all well-tailored enough to let Silas know that the man didn’t dress cheaply.
As the man walked into his cell, his hands folded behind his back, Silas didn’t need a introduction to know that London’s most notorious killer stood only a few feet away from him.
Keeping calm, almost to the point of looking unamused, Silas spoke first. “Is this your plan? To keep me in solitary confinement to drive me insane? To kill me? To get my money?”
Jack the Ripper tilts his head a little, and speaks for the first time.
“What is your worth?”
“Ah, right to it.” Silas chuckles, standing up, the chain around his ankle clinking. “I suppose… 50 thousand quid, would be sufficient?” When the killer didn’t say a word, Silas sighed. “A million pounds, then?” JTR still didn’t respond, and so Silas kept increasing the ransom money.
“100 million pounds!” Suddenly, before Silas could react, the Ripper pushed him against the wall, had pulled out a knife and held it against his cheek. “Do you think a 100 million pounds could stop me from killing you?” Silas narrowed his eyes. “If you want a single pound of my money, you wouldn’t dare to hurt-” He sliced his cheek slowly, drawing out blood as Silas gritted his teeth. “You’re not worth a single penny.”
Slighted, a fire burned in Silas’s eyes. “If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it long ago. So why don’t you stop playing your pathetic intimidation tactics and get to what you want.” JTR stares at him for a while before letting him go, turning around as he walked away from him.
Silas thought he was going to leave him to rot in the cell again when the Ripper turned around and pulled black leather gloves from his coat, putting them on, he made his way back to Silas and began beating him black and blue. Due to being chained, Silas couldn’t defend himself all too well, but he doubts he would’ve been able to even if they weren’t there.
Finally, the Ripper only stopped when Silas was lying on the ground about to pass out. Thats when the Ripper knelt down and spoke to him.
“I am going to take everything away from you. I will strip every delusion you have about yourself. By the time I’m finished, you will know exactly what you are worth- down to the last, excruciating detail.” He pulled off his now bloody gloves. “Whether by revelation or by ruin, you will learn. The choice I’m afraid, is no longer yours.”
For the next few months, the Ripper found different ways of torturing Silas, starting from physical methods that ranged from getting beaten up regularly, to being forced to lie on ice blocks for hours on end, and the worst was the waterboarding. He absolutely loathed that one.
But he remained resilient, he didn’t break down, simply suffering in silence. He knows very well that its highly likely he’ll be killed by the Ripper, but he wont give him the satisfaction of breaking down.
That is, until his grandmother died.
The Ripper had come to his cell and informed him of Sarah’s passing and he didn’t really believe it until he showed him the newspapers. Still, he was doubtful, as he continued to inspect the paper’s authenticity. “She was a lovely woman, did her very best raising you but you… such a disappointment.” The Ripper tutted. “I met her.” Silas stopped flipping through the papers for a moment, his eyes catching sight of the pattern on his gold ring- a snake eating its own tail.
“You’re lying.” He muttered. Yes, this is all a lie. Another tactic to get him to break.
“I visited her in Edinburgh, at the cottage she and her late husband used to meet at. We had a pleasent conversation.” Silas felt his blood run cold. That cottage, very few people knew of its existence, and he was sure that he was the only one to know of its history.
“You’re lying-” But the Ripper cut off his meek denial. “We talked about you, about Daisy and how you let your uncles send her away to the asylum, about the night your mother died. Your grandmother always blamed herself for not being able to help you heal from that night. But we both know that you only have yourself to blame.” Silas’s lips parted in shock. How did he know-?
“You thought no one knew that you were the one hiding in that closet and how you watched your mother be murdered while your coward self watched through the slit of the cupboard. Have you lied to yourself that you weren’t the very reason of her demise?”
“I- I was a child-” “You led the killer to her. Your mother had warned you many times to stay in your room at night, but you had to go to the library, didn’t you? You just had to take another book to read? And when you heard footsteps, you ran towards the nearest bedroom, hiding in the closet, not realising that you’d mistaken the killer’s footsteps for your mother’s. But your mother knew that those heavy footsteps were not yours, were not familiar and she came to get you, to protect you. But she was murdered instead. All because of you.”
All these years, all this time that Silas spent running away from the truth, trying to bury the traumatic memories from that night, had suddenly been resurfaced. They were slapped in his face, by none other than London’s ruthless killer.
Silas stood up, the paper dropping from his hands. In that moment, he realised that everything the Ripper knew about him, about the details of his family would only be possible if- if he was the one who’d killed them all.
Blinded with rage, Silas lunged at the man, barely landing a jab before he was struck down again and beaten to unconsciousness.
When he woke up, he was lying on the ground as Ripper cleaned his bloody hands.
“It was a wonderful funeral. Sarah would’ve been proud.” The Ripper stated. Silas stared at him, his chest hurting so much, he was sure he’d broken a few ribs. The killer only folded his arms across his chest. “You should be grateful. I attended it on your behalf. Your wife did an amazing job arranging everything on such a short notice.”
Wife.
Y/n.
Silas hadn’t realised it until now that he’d completely forgotten about you. You had not once crossed his mind since he his time in captivity.
“Will you finally kill me, now that you’ve taken away everyone I cared about?” Silas asked through jagged breaths. The Ripper looked over his shoulder. “Not everyone.”
Once he was left alone, Silas sat up and grabbed the paper again, going over the details.
Y/n. He supposed that he always thought you’d have left him and run off with someone, perhaps with Henry. Maybe now that the Ripper has him, you’d probably have taken his money and left London.
Not everyone. Those words echoed in the back of his mind.
The Ripper wasn’t done with him though. Far from it, really. Silas thought he’d already been through the worst of his abuse, but he was in a whole new world of pain when the psychological torture began.
It started with the classic “Betrayal Manipulation”, where Silas would be informed for hours on end, everyday, that he’s been abandoned by everyone, that no one is looking for him, no one cares about him. Silas didn’t have a hard time believing it, seeing as his grandmother was perhaps the last person who would’ve truly looked for him, his cousins probably would’ve sent a search party if they weren’t under his uncles influence, who he already knew couldn’t care less about him. He didn’t have any real friends, and perhaps Cadbury might’ve been one to alert the authorities of his absence, but then again, what chance did a butler stand against the Ripper?
Were you looking for him? He doesn’t think so. Silas doubts you even knew he went missing. You were probably out of London the day you sent the divorce papers via your friend.
Would you have looked for him, if you knew he’d gone missing? Even after that fallout with him? After he screamed all those awful things at you, would you have still put your bruised pride aside to find him?
He really doesn’t know the answer… after all, how much did he really know you? You did call it a sham marriage, but then again… you weren’t soulless like most people in his life.
Once the Ripper was tired of telling how no one will come for him, he would have Silas be taken to a cold cellar by his minions (robed and masked), where he would be tied down to a chair with a bucket of water placed over his head. He would be blindfolded, and they’d leave him there as water dripped out of the bucket onto his scalp, one drop at a time, at a slow pace he couldn’t predict. He remembers reading about it-“Chinese Water Torture.”
You would think that this was better than waterboarding, but it wasn’t. The pattern of the drops was irregular, and the cold sensation is jarring, which caused him anxiety as he tried to anticipate the next drip. It was mentally painful, instilling fear and causing mental deterioration.
Had the pattern been regular, he could’ve used the periodicity to meditate. But the ominous dread of not being able to predict the next drip, it was going to drive him into insanity. Silas remembers actually flinching when the water drops hit his head, and even today, he could pinpoint the exact spot on his scalp where the droplets hit. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve assumed that there was depression on his scalp at that site.
But the worst was still yet to come. The Ripper could see that Silas was falling to pieces, he was near his breaking point. And thats when it was time for his final tactic- “the Silent Companion”, with the Ripper’s own sick twist. You see, in method, dummy boards, also sometimes called “silent companions", are life-size flat wooden figures that were a popular room decoration in the 17th century. Painted and cut to resemble soldiers, children, loved ones, and were put in places that they’d be usually found in. A sweet way to remember them by.
But the Ripper decided to use it a way to shatter Silas.
Silas would wake up to the sound of screams coming from a cell at the end of the hallway. It was a woman screaming, begging, pleading for mercy. It would go on for days until she was put into a burlap sack and then thrown into Silas’s cell. The woman’s screams now were muffled, clearly gagged, and she would be thrashing in her sack until the robed men began to beat her into submission or unconsciousness. Silas couldn’t help her even if he wanted to, he had chains holding him down and he was far too emotionally drained to care.
But then the Ripper would come, folding his arms over his chest. “It seems like everyone has to pay on your behalf.” Silas was confused, but he still didn’t look up from the ground. The Ripper continued, not caring about his lack of response. “Everyone who ever cared about your worthless self has had to suffer. Every woman who ever gave a crap for you had to die. Your mother, your sister, your grandmother, your…” He trailed off, and Silas’s eyes finally snapped up. Your? His wife? “Y/N! Don’t kill her!”Silas leapt forward, before being yanked back down by his chain. He was on his knees, reaching out for you. “Dont kill her! Stay away!” The Ripper pulled out a knife and as soon as he’d touched the burlap, you began thrashing again. The men grabbed the body, while the Ripper cooed only, gently petting the sack as if calming an animal before it was ready for slaughter. “She shouldn’t have announced to everyone that she was your wife. She shouldn’t have lied about how much you loved her. She shouldn’t have associated herself with you.”
Silas leapt forward again, trying to break through the chains. “Take me then. Leave her. She has no part in this. Kill me!”
The Ripper looked up at him. “Why? Its not because you love her. I know that much. Do you think that if you save her, you can be absolved from the murder of all the other women in your life?” And with that, Ripper stabbed you multiple times until you stopped thrashing, while Silas screamed.
Silas stared at the lifeless form in front of him as the Ripper stood up to leave.
“Y/n is not your salvation. She is your ruining.”
Silas doesn’t know how long he was left alone in that cell with you, gasping for breath, tears he didn’t even know had stained his cheeks, until he mustered up the courage to go near and reach for the bloody burlap sack with a trembling hand, dragging it down your face.
It wasn’t you.
It was some… woman. He didn’t know her.
“She claimed to be your wife. I think it was to get fame, or your money.” Ripper’s voice cut through the room. He was standing outside the cell. “I’ll get to your real wife too. And I’ll dispose of anyone who associates themselves with you too.”
And thats how Silas was broken. Every week, a different woman would be subjected to the same torture and he’d be lead to believe that it was you. And everytime he lifted off the sack, he always thought that his eyes saw your face for a second. He was hallucinating you now.
During one of these live killings, the Ripper even tried to get him to sign the divorce papers. The papers he thought he’d lost the day he was taken. “Sign these, Silas. Sign the divorce and free your wife, hm? Let that be the last good thing you do before you die.” But no matter how much he was beaten, broken, tortured, Silas refused to sign the papers, fearing that if he did, you wont have access to his money or influence and become an easy target for the Ripper.
After months of inhumane torture, Silas had finally broken down. The Ripper walks to the malnourished man chained to the ground, hollowness in his eyes as he didn’t even flinch anymore. Kneeling down to his level, he asks him the first question he did when he was first brought here.
“What is your worth?”
Silas remained silent. The Ripper didn’t think he would answer, perhaps he had dissociated from reality-
“Nothing.”
The Ripper’s body relaxed. He raised a hand to pet Silas’s head.
Silas doesn’t fight it when he gives a glass to drink. He hoped it was poison, but it was only to put him to sleep.
When he wakes up next time, he was lying in a coffin, his body stiff and unable to move. He saw Ripper standing over his head, as someone places the lid over his coffin. He was being buried alive.
“Goodbye, Silas.” The Ripper says, and Silas closes his eyes as a tear slips out, grateful for finally being put out of his misery. As he heard the dirt being thrown over his coffin, memories of his life flashed across his mind.

I’m sorry, mom.
I’m sorry, Daisy.
I’m sorry, grandma.
I’m sorry, Y/n.
No one will come to visit him. No one will know where he is. No one cares. No one.
He is truly worth nothing. No one will come for him. No one-
“Silas!” A distant voice calls out. Is this the afterlife calling out to him?
“SILAS!” He hears that voice again, dirt being shifted and before he knew it, it was pounding against his coffin.
“SILAS!” Next thing he knew, a fist comes through, splintering the wood and oxygen floods inside. As the wooden panels are pulled apart, his vision clears as he sees your crying face.
Y/n? You’re his afterlife?
I’m in hell?
Silas only stares at you in disbelief as you try to drag him out of the coffin.
Why are you- how? Is he really in hel-?
You slap him across the face, making him snap out of it. “SILAS!! This is not your fucking grave! GET THE FUCK UP!”
It’s really you. You didn’t give up on him. You were looking for him.You saved him from being buried alive. You broke his coffin with your bare hands. You saved him from his uncle killing him. You took the beating. And you- you were taken by the Ripper.
You were taken by the Ripper.
This is all his fault.
-
The first few weeks after waking up was spent mostly at his manor recovering while the coppers came to question him again and again. It was during this period that Cadbury, who after crying tears of joy (something which shocked Silas since he hadn’t ever seen him show much emotions), filled him in on everything, specifically you.
How you kept searching for him, how you fought against everyone, how you found out about Daisy, how you stood against his uncles and stopped the from stealing his wealth and from slandering him, how hard you fought to keep his and his family’s reputation intact and how you went to the royal family to have them help you find him, how you were threatened and ambushed many times. And when he summoned Collin, who then informed him how you started your own newspaper company to raise awareness against the Ripper under the guise of finding him, how you singlehandedly strong-armed the monarchy into actually helping by threatening to expose their dirty secrets.
And when you finally had the world aware of Silas being missing, you had to stand alone and face being labelled as the “gold-digger”, fight the accusation of being “hysterical” and he was sure if you didn’t have his money, you would’ve been thrown into an asylum by his own uncles.
You stood against them all- the royal family, his uncles, Henry Blackwood, the public, everyone. All for him.
He stood up from his desk where you had laid out all the leads you had on finding him, walking over to the same window where he stood the last time before he was taken.
Why?
Why did you do this? Were you in love? Was it simply out of duty? As a wife? Or because you didn’t want to look like a suspect?
Was it because of curiosity?
Silas’s hand crumpled into a fist.
It doesnt matter, does it? Even if you had ulterior motives, many would’ve given up long ago the moment they were threatened. And if not then, you could’ve- you should’ve ran away the moment you saw the Ripper. He wouldn’t have blamed you. He’s lost himself to the killer, he wouldn’t have blamed you for leaving at the sight of him.
But you stayed, you fought, you broke your own hands to pull him out of his coffin, shielded him from his uncle.
You. Cared.
And thats enough reason for Silas to find you. He will return the favour. He will not give up on you. You didnt, even when you didn’t know whether he’d left you or gone missing, you looked for him, even when you had every reason not to.
I’ll find you Y/n. I’ll find you and I’ll avenge you, for every attempt on your life, every threat, every accusation, every tear- I’ll make everyone pay.
I wont rest until I find you. I wont let you suffer the same fate as the other FitzGeorge women.
-
True to his word, Silas did start searching for you. He created his own search party, knowing that the detectives and police alone wouldn’t be able to find you, he hired the best private investigators and paid good money to shady men who didn’t have any qualms using unethical ways. Next, he mapped out all the potential suspects that could either be the Ripper, or at least have helped him. His enemies, and anyone who held even the slightest bit of malice towards you, everyone was a suspect. At the top of his list, was the royal family, Henry Blackwood and Lady Scarlet (both of whom had vanished at around the same time of your disappearance).
Silas decided to take down the monarchy first. Not only because of what they did to you, but also because he had been long planning to avenge what they did to him and his grandmother, for treating his family as outcasts.
He went to Westminster Palace, where the British Parliament sat. As the Duke of Westminster, a title specially created for him by the Queen when she thought he would soon be her son-in-law, his connection to it is indirect, primarily through his role as a prominent member of the aristocracy. He didn’t really own the palace.
Until this morning.
Silas sat at the back of the room, quietly watching the dominoes of his plan fall as a fight broke out. The reason?
“The royal family’s long history of mental illness and life-threatening ailments.”
Ah yes, Silas had used the information you had gathered on the royal family tree and used your paper to publish it. Now the whole world knows, and as the parliament begins arguing over the legitimacy and security of the monarchs, he silently watches.
By the time he returns to the London Post, he already knows who is waiting for him in your office.
Prince Albert.
“My king, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Silas asked monotonously, sitting in his chair a bit too casually in front of the king, who was still standing, barely contained rage in his eyes.
“What is the meaning of this, Silas?” Prince Albert grits out as he throws the paper on his desk. “Why are you slandering royalty?”
“Slandering?” Silas asked, blinking at him unamused. “It is not slander if its true.”
“Whatever issues you have with us could’ve been sorted out privately.” The king said. “This is uncalled for.”
Silas snorts and Prince Albert has never felt so insulted before. “This isn’t anything personal. Its just the truth and the public has the right to know who rules their kingdom.” Silas rests his cheek on his palm and stares up at him with an evil glint. “Besides, you’ll know when I make it personal.” At the king’s confusion, Silas pulls out a document from his drawer and pushes it towards him. “This is currently being printed and published. Half of London has already gotten their hands on it, I’m sure by tomorrow, all of Britain will know too.”
Prince Albert’s eyes widened in horror at the headline.
“FUTURE KING OF ENGLAND FOUND IN THE ARMS OF A CROSS-DRESSER AT DEVIANT CLUB!”
His hands crumpled the paper. “This is not true!” “Yelling will get you nowhere, your highness.” Silas cut him off, standing up as he buttoned his coat. “And we both now, you are in no position to make any threats or demands.”
Prince Alberts face turned red with rage. “What are you going to do with this? Make people lose confidence in the monarchy? No one will believe this nonsense! Not me, not the people, and not the Parliament. And don’t try denying you weren’t there today.”
“I am not denying anything.” Silas let out a bored exhale. “As Duke of Westminster, it is my right to be there.”
“Right? You do not own Westminster Palace, Silas! It still belongs to the crown!”
“I dont own the Westminster Palace, your highness.” Silas’s gaze sharpened. “But I do own more than half of the Parliament. As of today, I have the leading party in my pocket, ready to obey my orders and even tear down the monarchy a new one if I say so.”
“SILAS-!” “Keep your voice down. You don’t want to sound hysterical and confirm the rumours about mental illnesses running in the royal family, hm?” Silas didn’t even smirk as he cut the king at his knees in the most brutal manner, only telling him to see where his son, the future heir was currently at.
As the king left in a hurry, the door to the office was suddenly slammed open and Benjamin barged in with Colin trying to pull him back by his shoulder.
“YOU!” Benjamin yelled, yanking his arm out of Colin’s grip. “YOU’RE THE REASON SHE’S GONE!”
Silas kept his calm, merely lifting his chin. “I know. I’m going to find her.”
“She should’ve never gone missing. Its all because of you! You should’ve died! You and your pathetic little self should’ve died! She’s in trouble because of you!” Benjamin accused, barely resisting the urge to not beat him to a pulp. “And to have the nerve to call me here, in her office where you sit! How dare you!?”
Silas only stared at him with a neutral expression, even if his heart was heavy with guilt. He nodded at Colin to leave them alone, and he reluctantly left.
“I called you because I need your help to find Y/n. You can hate me all you want, take a swing at me if it’ll make you feel better, but we both want the same thing.” He watched Benjamin take fast breaths, trying to reel himself in. “You were the last person she was in contact with before she found me. You were fighting some assailants that were after her, and you mentioned them wearing masks?” Silas didn’t wait for him to confirm the information. He already read the police report Benjamin had filed. “More than likely, it was the Ripper’s men after her. Now, if we want to find Y/n soon, you need to tell me the truth, Benjamin.” Silas stood up, pouring two drinks, one for himself and one for Benjamin. “My sources tell me Y/n had been in an apartment that belonged to Lady Scarlet, and that you were seen leaving that place just moments earlier.” He set the crystal glass in front of the barber. “What were you doing there? And what do you know about Lady Scarlet and Henry Blackwood?”
Benjamin stared at him, and Silas could see he was trying to come up with a lie that would explain his presence.
“There’s no need to lie. I just need to find Y/n. Please.” Silas didn’t need to plead. He could easily have this information wrung out of him, but you trusted Benjamin enough to help find him, so he’ll return the courtesy of not resorting to unsavoury means. For now.
The blonde’s shoulders sagged. “I worked for Mr Blackwood. I’d only met him once, but every task he needed me to do would be given to me through Lady Scarlet. She was his right-hand man. He’d been paying me to spy on you. I did it because… because I didn’t trust you with Y/n, and when you two had that rushed wedding, I just knew something was going to go wrong. I just wanted to keep Y/n safe.”
And financial gain too. Silas kept the comment to himself. Benjamin continued. “When Y/n started to investigate the murders of his employees, Mr Blackwood didn’t like that. He told her many times to stop, told her that the Ripper was just a myth, and that its bad for business. He didn’t want her meddling. But when she didn’t stop, Mr Blackwood wanted me to do something about it. He wanted me to keep tabs of her every moment, so that he could stop thwart her plans.”
Silas’s fists clenched under his desks. “What happened at the club that night?”
“I went to the club to confront Henry and tell him I want out, and I want him to stop bothering Y/n too. I didn’t know Y/n was there too. Lady Scarlet found me before I could find him, and she pulled me into Mr Blackwood’s office, telling me to not worry because “Y/n had been dealt with.” And when the fire broke out downstairs, we left the office, but she told me that Y/n was hiding inside, so I went back in and pulled her out of there. Since that night, I haven’t seen Mr Blackwood. Rumour has it, he left town. Or perhaps the Ripper got to him.” Or maybe he is the Ripper. Silas took a sip of his drink as the man continued. “After weeks, I was finally able to track Lady Scarlet down. It was the night you were found. I wanted to know where Henry was. If there was some unfinished business left… she said everything here had been concluded. I think she was planning on leaving soon too. I haven’t heard from her since, and her place is empty too.”
Y/n is missing. Henry and Lady Scarlet left town too. The Ripper targeted Henry’s employees.
If I’m able to find Henry, I might be able to find Y/n too.
Silas grabbed his coat and left the office, making his way to police station.
He needs to have the employees murder cases re-opened. There has to be a reason why the Ripper was targeting them, and Silas has a feeling that its not because they were “prostitutes”.
-
“I’m afraid the cases cannot be re-opened, Silas.” The chief of the department, his friend, informed him as the two sat in his office.
“And why not, Tobias?” Silas took a sip of his tea. “Whats the point of having a copper friend then?”
Tobias chuckled. “I wish I could help you out, but I really cant-” Silas set the cup down and pulled out his cheque book. “How much?”
“Silas-”
“How much, Tobias?”
“Its not about money!” Tobias exclaimed, feeling insulted. Silas’s grey eyes watched him run a hand over his face exasperatedly. “I cant open the case because its already been dealt with it. The murderer has been caught and awaiting trial.”
Silas studied him. “But… but its not the man who did it, hm?” Tobias’s eyes flicked up and he felt Silas see right through him. “I cant prove it but… the man we caught… I think he’s just a fall guy.”
“Henry paid him off, didn’t he?” Tobias jaw ticked, as he gave a stiff nod.
The two men remained quiet for a few moments before Silas spoke again.
“I’d like to examine the victims bodies.” Tobias shook his head, but Silas cut him off. “This isn’t a request, Tobias. We both know I can do this without you as well, but I need to find Y/n before time runs out.”
The police chief begrudgingly gave in to his demands and took Silas along with him to the morgue . “The earlier victims had been buried in the cemetery before the trial, but we still have the last victim here, waiting for the trial to be finished. I think after a few days, he’ll be laid to rest. We’re lucky that London is freezing now, slowing the decomposition of the dead.”
Tobias went to open the storage box that contained the last victim, only to find it empty.
“Where-?” He went to open other boxes, searched the entire room to find the victim, before going to ask the mortician.
“The mortician said that somebody came in with a permit from me saying to release the body, but I didnt- I didn’t sign any such documents! Oh god- someone stole a body from the morgue- someone stole from the police department!” While Tobias spiralled about his job being in trouble, Silas’s suspicions grew. He grabbed Tobias by the shoulders, shaking him. “Where are the other victims buried?!”
Tobias took him to the cemetery where they were laid to rest. “Silas, we need a warrant from the judge-” Just then, Cadbury came running in with a few men with him. The butler handed the warrant to Tobias, while Silas nodded at the men to start digging.
Silas’s suspicions were only confirmed when all the coffins were empty. All 7 graves, all belonging to Henry’s employees, were empty.
Tobias’s shock only grew. “No… how-? Who-?” “Someone’s getting rid of the evidence. But who would-?” Silas’s eyes widened. “We need to get to the the murderer right now.” Tobias looked confused. “The scapegoat? He’s in jail- oh!” He got what Silas was alluding to and the two reached the jail in no time. The guards stood up, not expecting to the chief today. “Sir-” “Where is the man we arrested in Blackwood case?!” “He was expecting bail today but no one came-” 
“Show me the cell!” Tobias yelled.
The guards lead them to the cell, and Tobias let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the man lying under the covers. “Thompson! Wake up!” The guard banged his baton against the bar to rouse him from sleep, but when he didnt, they opened his cell and barged in to pull the covers off, freezing as they found the man with his throat slashed brutally from ear-to-ear.
Someone had killed the suspect today, right in his cell. In a jail. In front of hundreds of witnesses. Yet no one even heard even the slightest struggle. Only one person could be so skilled.
The Ripper.
-
A week later, Prince Albert had passed away. It is said that he had fallen sick, but his sources in the palace tell him that the king had left to see his son in Cambridge, and when he found him in a club with people engaging in all sorts of depravity, well, frankly the scandal was too much for the father to bare. They fought, Albert tried to convince his son to come home and that they’d find a nice girl for him to marry and all of this nonsense will be forgotten, evil be nipped in the bud.
Of course, Prince Edward could care less. As pompous idiots do, when it comes to being told what not to do, they do exactly that. When the king returned to the palace, he’d fallen sick with typhoid and days later, passed away surrounded by his loved ones.
The Queen was particularly affected by his death, so much so that she mourned him by wearing only black for the rest of her life. Deep in depression, she blamed Edward for his death because of the fallout the father-son had, and so the rest of the country mourned with her. Life slowed down, businesses were affected and this distracted everyone from Jack the Ripper, who apparently had also went on a break from his killing spree.
Silas saw the rest of his family, his cousins and his uncle Adolphus at the Prince Albert’s funeral. He’d avoided seeing them since his return, fearing that he just might lose control and kill his uncle for how they treated Daisy and Y/n. He had no doubts in his mind that Adolphus and William planned on killing him for a long while. He’ll deal with them, just not right now.
Silas could only hope so during such trying times as the local authorities failed to do their jobs.
But just because the police and the general public were not working actively on this, doesnt mean he didn’t hire outside help, which in his opinion, were more competent.
“Silas.” His cousins were first to approach him, and he could see how cautious they were being around him, as if he’d explode on them.
He wouldnt. It wasn’t their fault. They’re not smart enough to ever try anything against him.
His uncles, on the other hand, who did pass down the dense genes, were greedy enough to go cross him.
Silas made small talk before Adolphus ushered his sons to leave. “How are you, Silas? I’ve been meaning to talk to you ever since-” “I was almost killed by your brother? Or when you took the first chance you could to steal from me?”
Adolphus’s mouth pulled into a thin line. “Now listen, I didn’t have anything to do with what William-” Silas cut him off with a scoff. “Insulting your own dead brother by lying? Cant say he doesnt deserve it.”
“Silas, I just wanted to come here and tell you that I’m using my contacts for whatever information we could get to find Y/n.” Adolphus tried again, but Silas beat him to it again. “And I’m using my contacts to build a case against you and your dim-witted sons for your hand in my kidnapping and the death of my sister.”
His uncle’s mouth fell agape. “Silas, I didn’t do anything to you or Daisy-” “Dont you dare say her name, or I swear to God, I’ll have you and your offspring disappear from the face of the Earth before the sunset and I can promise you, you’ll be begging me for death by the time I’m done with you.” Silas walked away from him. The Ripper was right about many things, he’s come to realise that. He was right about the events of the night his mother was murdered, he was right about how he and Daisy were manipulated by the very people who were supposed to care for them, and he was right about every woman he loved about suffering because of him, and now Y/n-
He stopped. Loved? I love Y/n?
Silas stood in front of the casket to pay his respect. I love Y/n? No. I… I couldnt. I care about her, yes. But- no, no its no love.
It cant be.
Right?
The young aristocrat walked away from the casket, his feelings about you were the only on his mind.
Love Y/n? Certainly not. And I wouldn’t come to that realisation here, at the state funeral for the prince.
No.
-
It’s been over 6 months and Silas hasn’t been able to find you. He has turned London upside down, and he even expanded his search area beyond borders, from street corners to continents, a suspicion that the Ripper may have moved his operations to elsewhere. But he knew that it was unlikely, then again, the Ripper is not a predictable force.
He didn’t have much luck with finding either Henry or Lady Scarlet. As if they’d dropped from the face of the Earth. So, Silas focused his attention to your notes, when you were trying to find him. He has a feeling that the Ripper was in contact with you, he was baiting you.
But why?
If the Ripper wanted to hurt Silas, he could’ve just killed you. But he didn’t, or at least he hopes, he hasn’t. Why drive him to the point of insanity, then let him go and take you?
I admitted defeat. Silas recalled the night when he was in the coffin. I was ready to die. He could’ve killed us both. What sick game is he playing?
Silas traced all your steps over and over again, everywhere you went, he went. His first stop was the one place that he hadn’t visited in years.
Aveline’s asylum.
The staff rambled on to him for all the donations he gave, leading him towards the room his sister was lived in.
His hand didn’t tremble as it reached for the doorknob, but there was an ominous dread in his gut.
As the door swung open, the state of the room was just as he’d seen it the last time he was here. When Daisy had died, he was asked to collect her belongings, but he couldn’t bring himself to return to this place, so he’d paid the hospital to keep her room locked and unused.
Silas wasn’t allowed to visit Daisy very often, but he remembers Adolphus bringing him here when his grandmother had yelled at his uncle to take him there. Sarah knew how much he missed Daisy, even though Silas hadn’t said it aloud.
She always looked weaker than last time when he visited her. But despite how frail she’d turned, how pale her skin became, Daisy always welcomed him with a warm smile and a gentle hug.
Silas sat down on her bed, mind flashing back to the last time he saw her.
“Silas! You’re a sight for sore eyes!” She giggled, wrapping her thin arms around him. “How are you- oh, what did you bring for me?” Silas handed her the books she’d requested after she complained about being bored.
She pulled him and sat him down on her bed, before reaching under her pillow to pull out a handful of candies. As she extended her hand to him, he noticed the bruise on her wrist.
Silas’s eyes flicked to her face, then to her wrist again. But he didn’t say anything.
He never did. Not even when he saw her clothes looking too big on her, different coloured marks on her limbs, the bags under her eyes getting deeper, her hair looking greasier.
He never said anything. After all, why would he embarrass her? “She’s sick in the head.” His uncle had told him, when he asked about her concerning state.
She’s sick in the head. But she was the same as she’d always been.
Silas only took one candy. “You have the rest.” He’d urge her, worried she was skipping meals. Daisy shook her head, handing him a few more before popping one in her mouth. “I had to bribe the doctor for this!” She stood up and walked over to her closet to put away the books he’d brought. As she opened the closet, he saw a red book. “I thought they didn’t have any books for you to read.” Silas nodded towards the red book. She smiled. “I dont. This is my diary.”
Silas’s eyes snapped towards the dusty closet.
Diary.
The day you left his house, the day he lost his temper on you, you had come to his study with that diary. You’d dropped it on the floor before leaving and Silas had put it away in his desk.
But how did you find it? Silas never took anything from the asylum, unless-
Unless you came and took it.
-
Silas had rushed home and opened the red journal as soon as he found it. And his heart only sank further the more he read.
“I dont know why uncles have sent me to this awful? I do not believe I am sick, or if I am, I do not see any hope of ever getting better here. Only worse.”
“What good can ever come out of starving patients? Then again, I think the stale food they give us is only making me more ill.”
“Silas finally came to visit me! Oh, how I missed him. He’s grown up so handsomely. I am sure he will get me out of here one day.”
“The new doctor is the only one who is nice to me. The nurses talk very badly to me, and their hands hold me down so harshly. But the new doctor tended to my injuries with utmost care.”
“The new doctor listens to me when I talk. He smiles sometimes, and chuckles at my jokes too. He doesnt scold me or has me tied down when I tell him I’m not sick.”
“I bribed him with poems. He gave me the candies I’d asked for. I don’t like to be empty-handed when Silas visits me. I can see the concern in his eyes when he looks at me, but he never says anything for my sake. I wonder what I can get him for his birthday. Perhaps the gold ring the doctor wears. It has a snake eating its own tail. Very unique. Silas would like it.”
Silas’s blood ran cold. Golden ring. Snake eating its own tail. It couldn’t be him-
“The doctor hasn’t come to see me in a while. Perhaps he’s busy. I would’ve liked to say goodbye. Uncle Williams came today. He wanted me to sign some documents. But he wouldn’t let me read it so I didn’t. He was furious with me.”
“The nurses have been very unkind to me. They have taken away my meals because “bad girls don’t get fed.” I don’t understand what I’ve done.”
“Anytime I try to ask what I have done to warrant this treatment, they beat me. I demanded to see my family, to see Silas, to see my uncles, but they only locked me in the dark room, bound to my bed.”
“After many weeks, uncle Williams finally returned. I didn’t think I’d see him again after our last falling out. But he returned and apologised for his behaviour. He even brought sweets for me as peace offering. I am having them right now with my tea, they are a little too sweet for my taste. I am getting sleepy though, surprisingly earlier than my bedtime. I suppose the sweets have filled my belly and made me tired.”
That was the last entry in her diary.
Silas’s hands trembled. If only- if only he’d read this earlier. The ring. The Ripper being her doctor. Williams feeding her sweets- he killed Daisy. He killed her.
A shaky breath left him. Silas wished the Earth would split open and drag him, just so he didn’t have to face the harsh truth.
Daisy met the Ripper.
Daisy was murdered.
Daisy was never sick. His uncles put her there. Because?
He suspected why, but he still wants to hear it.
-
Adolphus woke up to a slap to the face. He let out a strangled noise, and he felt the rope on his arms and legs that tied to him to the chair.
“Awake?” A figure appeared from the shadows.
“S-silas? What is the meaning of this?! Untie me this instant!” He struggled against the ropes only to be punched, this time the other cheek.
“Behave, uncle. Tonight, you will die. How painful it will be, that will be decided by you.”
“Silas-!” Another punch, and thats when he heard the sound of a trolley creaking in. Cadbury wheeled the trolley in and Adolphus’s eyes went saucer wide at the contents laying on it. A variety of knives, a saw, a plier, and other tools he couldn’t name but they looked of the medical sort.
“Didnt you tell me that you served as a medic during the war, Cadbury?” The butler smiled, though it didn’t match the sinister glint in his eyes.
“Yes, sir. Army Medical Corps.” Cadbury picked up a scalpel, loading a sharp blade onto it. “I had to amputate many brave men, and I had to do it quickly to save them.” Cadbury then looked at Adolphus and shrugged. “I was pretty skilled back then but its been a few years, I might be a little out of practise.”
Adolphus was drenched in sweat, practically shaking in his chair. “Silas- Silas, listen to me- I didn’t do anything! It was all Williams! It was all him! I didnt- I tried to stop him! I did! I swear on my sons lives!”
“Sons? You’re going to damn your own sons by lying?” Silas sighed. “Oh well, I suppose they were already damned the moment I sent them to the asylum.”
“W-what?” Adolphus throat dried up.
Silas hummed. “Oh, I just sent your boys and Williams’s to the looney bin to rot. Just like you sent Daisy.” He walked up to his uncle and grabbed him by the neck, yanking him forward. “And when they lose their damn mind, when they cant remember their name, when their reduced to a vegetable, I’ll kill them. Just like you killed my sister. And I’ll make sure no one remembers you.”
“S-Silas! I- I didn’t kill Daisy! I- Yes- We- we did sent her to the asylum! Yes- but we didn’t kill her! We only wanted her to sign and give us the fortune your parents had left for you two! We never killed her! It wasn’t us- It was the other man! It has to be!”
“What other man?” The Ripper?
Adolphus hesitated for a second, but the moment Cadbury picked up the saw, he spilled.
“We- we were trying to join a society. Your- William and I, we- we needed to get in this secret society. It was run by a man unknown, but- but the society in essence- it was the inner circle. The most elite. The people who had the first hand at everything. If we got into the society, we’d be invincible. But- but to get in that society we needed a huge buy-in. We didn’t have the money- so- so we tried to get your and Daisy’s inheritance- we- I was going to pay you back! Always, you’re my nephew, Silas!” Silas only shook him harshly again.
“What do you mean by the other man who killed Daisy?”
“I- I dont know- I’ve never seen his face- he’d always wear a mask, or a hood! All I remember is that he’d wear a gold ring, with a snake on it! Only members of the secret society have it. But- but he- I’d seen him one time leaving Daisy’s room at the asylum! He- he must’ve killed her!”
“What was he doing in Daisy’s room?”
“I- I dont know, I never asked.” Of course, you didn’t you spineless cretin. “Thats all I know, SIlas. I swear I didn’t kill her!”
Silas shoved him away and turned around, giving only a nod to Cadbury. Make him talk.
Cadbury gleamed as he picked up an odd shaped instrument. “Back in the war days, I had to peel off a lot of dead skin and replace it with skin grafts, Mr Adolphus. Now, I know I said earlier that I’m out of practise, but I’ve peeled a lot of potatoes! I have a feeling, this wouldn’t be much different!”
Silas left the room as he heard his uncles screams echo. For now, he needs to find the secret society.
-
You wake up with a jolt, gasping for air as you tried to come out of the effects of the dream. As your eyes adjusted to your unfamiliar surroundings, flashbacks from last night came to your mind.
Silas!
I pulled him out of the coffin- he was buried alive! But I pulled him out- he was alive. He was alive! All this time!
As you realised the ache in your back, you remembered his crazy, money-hungry, fat uncle was beating you two with a metal rod! He kept striking again and again until someone pulled him off-
You gasped.
The Ripper!
The Ripper!
Your eyes frantically scanned the room, as if dreading to find him standing in the corner. But the dark Victorian interior showed nothing except for luxury. Dark brown, almost black wood was used around the room and the ceiling was high, with no windows in the room, the entire room was lit with candles and lanterns. You were lying on a canopy bed, with maroon velvet curtains tied to the posts. The walls had a few paintings, some antiques around the room but other than that, you were alone.
And you were brought here by the Ripper.
Right?
It has to be him. Who else? He was the one who hinted where he’d buried Silas- He buried Silas! Oh my god, am I going to be also buried alive? No, then I’d have woken up in the coffin. No, no. He brought me here to kill me like the rest of his victims. Brutally.
You threw the silk covers off you, ignoring the bandages covering your hands and leapt out of bed, stumbling a bit as the pain in your back made you curl up, before you gathered yourself and with a shaky breath, began making your way towards the door. Which wasn’t locked, as you turned the knob.
You peeked a look and when saw no one, you craned your neck out and saw a long corridor on either side, lined with stone blocks from floor to ceiling, a medieval contrast to the gothic room you were creeping out of now.
Using the light from the sconces on the wall, you decided to take the right and walk down the hall. You kept walking, taking one turn after the other with no logic and only hope to not get lost, or worse, be lead straight to the killer.
Your heart thundered against your ribs. Oh God, what if he finds me? What if he tortures me before he kills me-
No. You stopped walking, and rubbed a hand over your chest, pressing in deeply to calm the panic attack that was sure to come if you let your mind go on. No, think positively. He cant- he wont find me. I’ll find my way out of here and I’ll use my time machine and get home-
My Time Machine!
You frantically searched your clothes, panic setting in again.
Where is it- where the fuck is it?!
You recalled having taken it from Lady Scarlet, you had it on you when you were running from those masked men and when you crashed into Benny. You went into the cemetery to find a spot to use it and you were going to when-
Your heart dropped.
The Ripper. He has it. The machine dropped from your hands when you ran to dig Silas out of his grave.
The Ripper has my time machine.
You muffled the whimper that threatened to leave with your hand.
What have I done?
The machine- the time machine is- is in the hands of the notorious psychopath!
Maybe thats why no one has ever been able to catch him. Because my dumbass was the one who dropped the most powerful device on Earth in his lap! Fuckin-
You slapped your cheek.
No. No. No! Now is not the time to spiral. Now is not the time to lose my marbles!
You take a deep breath and clear your mind.
Whats the new plan?
Plan A: get out of here, save your life and build a new time machine and hope for the best that the Ripper has a weak immune system and dies of cholera or smallpox.
Plan B: stay in this psychopath’s lair, find the time machine, save the world from catastrophic changes in history and time, and get home!
If you were a hero with good morals, sure- Plan B. But you could really not be bothered to be the saviour if you’re dead at the hands of maniac!
You start walking down the hall again, spotting a set of stairs trailing down.
How about this- it’s plan B until I’m in danger, then we jump back to plan A? Yes.
As you descended the stone stairs, the interior finally changed to Victorian again, only more gothic.
The ceilings were high, with intricate gothic arches clawing at walls, illuminated faintly by the moonlight shining through the glass windows, though the fog outside was too thick to clue you in as to where you are. More lanterns guided you down the hall, your footsteps creaking against the wooden floor. You slowed your pace, not wanting to be spotted by anyone.
As you turned another corner, you immediately scurried back as you heard someone walking down the other end of the hallway.
You peeked, and only saw a figured robe walking down the hallway- the same hallway where you were hiding just at the other corner of it.
Fortunately, the figured robe turned to his right and opened a wooden door and entered the room, the door shutting behind him with a loud thud.
That must be the Ripper, so- you quietly crept down the hallway, your heart practically lurching out of your mouth as you made your way past the room the man had went in, praying to God he doesnt come out.
Finally, reaching the end of the hallway, you took another turn and faintly heard the sound of-
Piano? No, something more deep- was that pipe organ?
Great. This place keeps giving vampire castle, rather than a murderers lair.
Some hymn, perhaps dark church, was being played.
Wait- was the Ripper playing the organ? Huh. He could’ve made a good living out of this.
Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell him about switching careers. You rolled your eyes.
You walked down another corridor and this one had more rooms on either side of it. Granted most of them were closed.
Does he keep his victims here? Oh yeah, Y/n, the Ripper is hosting them all like this is hotel Transylvania. Get a grip.
He probably found this abandoned castle, and made his home here. Perfect place to kill and hide.
You heard footsteps again and you shuffled to hide again, but the hall was too long and you’d be spotted before you reached the end of it, so you took a risk and opened the double door, sneaking inside when you spotted no one inside and closing the door as quietly as you could, putting your ear against the door to listen to the footsteps walking away.
You stayed put before slowly backing away from the door, just in case the Ripper decided he wanted to come in here, whatever this room was.
Turning on your heel, you looked around the well lit room, with an altar made of white marble at the center and behind it, large maroon velvet curtains hung on the wall, with a pattern embroidered on it with golden thread. A snake eating its own tail, forming a perfect circle.
“What the hell…?” You whispered as you walked towards the altar.
Is this where he kills his victims? You looked around the marble, it was spotless. Not a drop of blood. Is he a clean freak? OCD perhaps-
Stop psychoanalysing the killer. You’re not an expert, Y/n.
You heard someone talking outside the door and dashed towards the corner to hide behind a pillar in the shadows.
The door opened and in walked- one, two- 6 robed figures wearing silver masks and hoods over their heads entered. They all began cleaning the room, one was replacing the melted candles with fresh ones, one was dusting the antiques lying in the other corner and another was using a broom to clean, two of them were cleaning the altar with what you assume was their version of Holy Water, or maybe it was just that. And the last one- he made his way towards the curtains, before pulling on its golden cord to draw the curtains apart.
Your eyes widened at the sight behind it.
There it was. There it fucking was.
The painting. Your painting. The one Baldwin commissioned of you. The one that followed you through all timelines. The one you had burned with your own hands.
And there it hung, unscathed, mocking you.
How-? How is this possible? I destroyed it- I burnt it to ashes! I did-
As soon as the robed figures left, you sauntered towards the painting, your hands trembling.
Am I hallucinating- no- there’s no way- I’m hallucinating.
You touched the painting. It was real. This is real.
How? How did it-?
You jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat.
It was another robed figure, this time with a white mask and pearly-white patterns on it, lips painted baby blue. The femininity of her mask and stature gave away that she was a girl.
“Lady Y/n.” She addressed you so politely. “He’s waiting for you.”
You didn’t have to guess who “He” was.
Spotting the robed figures from earlier behind her, you knew you were outnumbered, so with a shaky nod, you followed her, taking one last look at the damn painting before you left.
On the way, you saw many other robed figures, all wearing masks, you deduced different colours meant different ranks. Your gaze went back to girl in white who was leading you to your doom, fixating on the pearly patterns on her mask.
If you weren’t so shocked by the painting, you would’ve asked or rather, begged her not to take you to “him”. But your entire energy was now being focused on not crumbling down to your knees and crying yourself to into a catatonic state.
Eventually, a large door came into view and when the girl opened it, she lead you inside to a dining hall. A large table sat in the center with more than 20 or so seats. However, she didn’t make you sit there, instead she continued to walk and lead you to another door in the corner, and it revealed to be a smaller, more private dining area, with only a small rectangular table and two plush seats. On the right, there was a big window with stained glass, and on the left, the beige wall had two sconces along with different sized candles illuminating the room.
And at the other end of the table, just under the shadows, “he” stood.
As the girl left you two alone, your heart dropped when he stepped out of the shadows. Wearing a black mask with golden tendrils forming an intricate pattern, a black top hat and a stylish long coat over his suit that would make anyone tremble at the realisation of who it was.
“Lady Y/n.” You recognised the smooth voice. “I hope you slept well. How are your injuries?”
The Ripper was standing in front of you, barely 6 feet away.
You gulped the lump in your throat. “What do you want from me?” You croaked out, not realising your mouth had went dry.
He took a slow, cautious step in your direction as if approaching a prey he did not wish to scare.
“I will answer all your questions, but first, supper.” He motioned you to take a seat.
“I’m not hungry.” He stared at you and you felt the walls caving in when he walked up to you, until you could see into his eyes.
“I am hungry, and I do not enjoy eating alone.” He stated in a tone that didn’t leave room to argue. Stepping back, he pulled out a chair for you. “Please.” It wasnt a request.
You sat down, the hair on your arms rising as he pushed your seat in.
With a snap of his fingers, two robed figures came in with food. They set the plates in front of you and him, lifted the cloches to reveal a soup dish. They left you two alone and the Ripper began eating, while you contemplated if this was poisoned or not.
On one hand, if he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done so earlier, right?
On the other hand, this just might be one of the least painful ways to die from, perhaps?
With that, you began eating soup, eyes trailing to the man in front of you.
After entree and dessert were served, the dinner ended and you two sat from across each other in silence.
Is this what dinner with Hannibal Lecter feels like?
“What would you like to ask?” The Ripper finally broke the silence.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to see the truth.”
“And what is that?” He stood up and for a second you thought he got annoyed and was going to kill you.
“I suppose it would be better to show you.” You hesitated for a moment before standing. He walked out of the dining hall, you walked a step behind him (if only to have the upper hand if you need to attack him, or more realistically, run away.) but he slowed his pace to match yours.
He was reasonably taller than you, so it’d be understandable if he walked faster.
“Feel free to ask me more questions while we walk.” He offered.
Alright. “Are you going to kill me?” Your steps faltered, preparing yourself to bolt.
The seconds he took to answer felt like hours. “No. Next question.”
You followed him again. At the sight of more robed figures passing by, you asked him about this place.
“Where are we? What is this place?”
“We’re a secret society.” He turned his head to look at you. “You think of the Ripper as a single entity, but as you can see, we have many members.”
“Secret society? Do you mean cult?” You seem to have become a little more confident now that he’d stated he wasnt going to kill you. You forget “torture” is still on the table.
Yeah, he didn’t exactly “kill” Silas either.
He chuckled. “For some people, sure.”
“And what exactly is the society’s purpose?”
“We maintain balance. Stop threats. Keep the routine going.” Threats? Does he mean people he think corrupt society’s morals? Is that why he targeted the prostitutes and the club?
As you were both walking, he pointed towards the fireplace, specifically over the mantel where the same snake pattern was carved into the wood.
“That is the symbol of our society. Do you know what it means?” He allowed you to go and take a closer look.
You traced the wooden symbol with your fingers. A serpent eating its own tail. In a perfect circle. A loop.
“An eternal cycle.” You remembered seeing it while you were studying Egyptian mythology in college. “Renewal of life, death… rebirth?” You looked back at him, and he nodded for you to continue. “In some depictions, the snake would be looped into a horizontal figure-of-eight. Or sign of infinity. The symbol is seen in different theologies and religions, but is generally called as “Ouroboros”. In the Greek version, it means unity in duality—the merging of opposites such as life and death, heaven and earth, and the conscious and unconscious mind. In alchemy, the Ouroboros represents the process of transformation, the idea that destruction leads to creation. In Christian mysticism, the Ouroboros was sometimes used to symbolise eternity and the idea of God as the Alpha and Omega—the beginning and the end. The serpent devouring its own tail was interpreted as a symbol of God's infinite nature and the eternal life promised in Christian theology.
In essence, it is a balance between life and death, chaos and calm.”
“Smart girl.” You could sense he was smiling under the mask. You shrugged. “So what does it mean? You “cleanse” the society of impurities? Of what doesnt fit in your moral code? Just so that life… can continue on? Some order is maintained?”
“You say it like its a bad thing- to rid the society of impurity.” He turned on his heel and began walking, and you followed behind him. You resisted the urge to scoff. “Some would say murder is pretty immoral.” It was a risky thing to say, but the man chuckled. “It is, isn’t it?”
“Did you start this society?” You asked, passing another figured robe who was wearing a sharp three-piece suite, a short top-hat, and a golden mask. He looked at you and only then did you realise that none of the other figures looked in your way. It was only for a brief moment before he looked away and passed you two.
“Yes and no.” You looked at him. He was relaxed, as if in complete control of the situation. As if he cold anticipate any move, any ambush you throw his way. Like he could predict the unpredictable. “Do you know about the Knights Templar?” You nodded. Of course. The Knights Templar were a Catholic military order founded in the 12th century to protect Christians and the Holy Land during the crusades. They were a powerful organisation with significant wealth and influece, with the crown’s backing and funding. However, by the 14th century they were suppressed and disbanded.
He began explaining. “As history records- the Templars were disbanded centuries ago. But despite how brutally they were persecuted, the Templars still managed to survive all this time and went underground to operate from the shadows.”
“So, you’re the Templars?”
He shook his head. “We are a branch of the Templars. Our mission is the same- to protect the public from evil organisations and keep the balance of good and evil.” He directed you towards a door and opened it to reveal a huge room with many robed figures working quietly. There were different chalk-boards. There was a black board on which different names and math equations were written, then another on which different years were written with an event pinned to it. But you were only able to recognise a handful of the historical events, the rest were of them were just- you didn’t even know what they were. The events lined to the years were sentences like-
“She jumps into the water.” “He was lost in the carnival.” “The boy slept in.”
They didn’t make any sense.
The Ripper didn’t stop you from reading the boards. Instead, he continued to explain. “I started this society only after I had lost someone dear to me. To find them, I… I began searching for ways to connect to them. In afterlife.” He hummed. “Its ironic. I never believed in life after death, I’m still not particularly religious, you see. But I was desperate. I abandoned science and logic, and went after mediums who promised me that they will connect me to my loved ones. As you would know, that was a complete waste of time. But it did help me connect with some powerful people, who then tried to invoke my sense of Christianity. In reality, they just needed my money to fund their programs. One of which was the Templars.” You listened to him, while watching the robed figures work silently as they wrote on the chalk board, drawing lines, connecting dots. “They didn’t particularly need me to become a Templar, rather they needed my money and in return, they’d support any agenda I’d have. I, of course, demanded that- my wife may be brought back to me.” It was the first time he addressed who he’d been talking about. 
He continued on. “They obviously cant raise the dead. And they were fed up with me, so when I threatened to pull back my support, they told me to pray to God. Pray that He may be so gracious and merciful to send her back. That God is kind to His most devout servants. So, I changed. I really did become the perfect Christian. I abstained from all kinds of evils, I followed the light. I studied the Bible, all versions of it, and when that wasnt enough, I studied the history. And thats when I stumbled upon a story. About a king and his lover who went missing.” Your heart began to sink.
He began walking again, leading you out of the room and down another hallway. “You wouldn’t find this story that easily, you see, it was buried so deep into the books, only one manuscript was found and kept save by the Templars. And it was in Arabic.” As he turned, you saw a familiar corridor, and before you knew it, you were back in the room with the painting. “It almost sounded like a bedtime story. A sick king who was bound to die, is saved by a slave girl who seemed to appear out of no where. She saves him with a kiss, because apparently God had given her some divine powers. The king believed so, that she was angel gifted to him by God. And who is he to deny a divine gift?” Your eyes are focused on the painting, refusing to look at him. He doesnt- he cant know.
“Then as all great love stories end, she didn’t want to marry him, ran away from the altar and jumped into the sea, disappearing forever.” The Ripper’s steps echoed as he walked ahead of you, standing directly under the painting. “It is said that the the king was so devastated, he didn’t believe she was actually dead. They never found her body, or any remnant of her. He searched everywhere for her, he left his kingdom and travelled half the world for her. Apparently, he had become so depressed, that he would talk to the painting- this painting, he had commissioned of her, so much so, that his tears had smudged her beautiful face, the lower half of it. I imagined he kissed her right… there.” He pointed at lower half of the face on the painting that was smudged. “The king eventually died with a smile that now he’d finally be able to meet you again. The Templars, embarrassed by their king’s mental state, erased all traces of the girl and any story linked to her was destroyed, in order to maintain the nobility of a true Christian. The painting, however, wasnt found in the king’s castle. No, it was found centuries later with the Ottomans, and I think it was either stolen from the king or the king himself gave it away to be kept safe, perhaps to a dear friend.” He turned to face you, stalking towards you as you felt the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. “Do you know who wrote that manuscript?”
He said it was in Arabic. Salauddin?
“A mathematician called Abbas. The love story didn’t really interest me, nor did it feel true. It wasnt… even that good. But one thing that did intrigue was the device that this girl- slave girl was paying Abbas to make it. He wasnt able to recreate it again, nor did he ever understand what was its function. He did suspect that it may be the reason you were running, or were able to escape. After all, I researched quite a bit and while many parts of his story were true, I was never able to find the family of the girl who she claimed to be trying to find. So, perhaps… the device did indeed have something to do with her disappearance?”
He knows.
He fucking knows.
“Great story. What am I to do with it?” You managed to keep your poker face. He tilted his head at you, not in confusion, more in a “are you really keeping that act up?” manner. You tried to divert the focus from you. “It was just a story, like you said. Besides, you could have all the resources in the world and still not be able to find someone. The world is a big place, and there are more humans than you could ever count.”
“And yet I found you.” He said curtly, cutting off any attempts of diversion. “I found you, Y/n. You were the girl, and yes, I verified it. Directly from the man himself. King Baldwin IV.” Your eyes widened.
“I dont know what you’re talking about. And the king is dead-” He pulled something out of his pocket and you felt fear take over you.
The time machine.
“I- where- thats-” How- how does he know? How the fuck does he know?
“The time-travelling device? Yes, yes it is.” He fiddled with it. “Are you still going to deny everything?”
You took a step back, forcing the lump in your throat down. “Who- who are you?”
He sighed, stepping back a bit. “I suppose it would be better to show you.” And with that he removed his mask.
The room was illuminated well enough by the candles and sconce, yet it still took you a few seconds to recognise the man in front of you.
No. Fucking. Way.
-
“That girl was just someone pretending to be her.” Cadbury informed Silas. He’d just returned from yet another day of following up on leads claiming that they saw Y/n, or were Y/n. Its been three years since you’d been kidnapped by the Ripper. Three years since he’d been searching high and low for you. Silas had done everything he was supposed to do- influenced the police to keep your case open, bribed anyone and everyone for any leads, hired bounty hunters, used all his contacts and more on any news on you.
Cadbury sighed. “Another person impersonating Mrs FitzGeorge for money.” Mrs FitzGeorge. Only Cadbury addressed you like that now. Everyone else assumed you were dead. Most have already forgotten about you.
Silas downed the rest of his scotch before standing up. “I’ll be back late. Follow up on the other leads.” Cadbury didn’t have to ask where he was going. He knew.
Silas was going to a party. A private one. The kind where only the most exclusive members of high society meet to engage in any kind of activity. Nothing is off the table.
He’d figured that perhaps he’d be able to find someone there who could give him any clues on your whereabouts. Or the Rippers.
Upon reaching the mansion, he gave the secret code and was allowed entry. He recognised many of the guests there, William Gladstone, Thomas Hardy, Edison, Arthur Conan Doyle, etc.
Avoiding them expertly, he went upstairs to the room where a special event was happening.
“Mr FitzGeorge, glad you finally joined us.” A guest shook his hand, while he gave a nod of acknowledgement, eyes fixed on the stage ahead.
“Ladies and gentleman, we have a very special guest this evening, all the way from America! Please welcome- Harry Houdini!” The crowd erupted in applause. Harry Houdini was an up and coming magician whose fame had grown fast enough to be recognised globally.
But Silas didn’t exactly come for a magic show. No, he came to know if he can figure out a trick.
After the show was over, Silas came up to him, handing him a glass of champagne. “That was quite a show, Mr Houdini.” The magician’s face lit up in recognition, clinking his glass with Silas’s. “Mr FitzGeorge! I was expecting you!” “You were?” Harry nodded, pulling the man aside and leading him backstage. “Of course! I wanted to ask- was it true that you were buried alive?! How did you manage to keep your calm without running out of breath? How did you get yourself out of the coffin?” Silas’s grip tightened on his glass.
“My wife saved me.” He took a deep breath, setting his glass aside. “Thats what I came here for today. I need your help, Mr Houdini-” “Please. Call me Harry. I insist.” “-Harry. I’m trying to find her. She was taken by the Ripper. And while investigating, he managed to kill a potential lead while he was in the cell, without breaking in or being noticed.” Silas explained the case about the scapegoat who was killed in a cell, surrounded by inmates and coppers, without anyone seeing or hearing anything. He came to Houdini because he was an escape artist, an illusionist. If anyone had a chance of figuring this case, it would be him.
Harry tapped his chin in contemplation. “You’ll need to give me some time to crack this one.”
Silas nodded, pulling out his chequebook. “For which, I’m willing to compensate you.”
“Can I ask you something?” Silas gave a nod. “Have you considered that your wife may be dead?”
I have. “Yes.” The answer was curt. The “And?” Was silent.
Harry tried his best to be cautious in his wording. “And… you still want to find her?”
Why wouldn’t I? Silas has thought about the possibility of you not being alive anymore. Hell, part of him wishes that if you’ve not escaped the Ripper’s clutches, then at the very least, you’re dead. He doesnt want you to suffer the way he or Daisy did. His biggest fear was finding you in one of the asylums, bound and tortured to the point of becoming a vegetable. Every time he went into an asylum, everytime he opened a door, everytime he turned around poor girl, his blood would run cold. Is this it? Is this the time he’d find you? In this horrid place? In this miserable condition? In a state worse than death? Is this the outcome of all the women in his life? Was the Ripper right? Did they all suffer because of him?
“Yes.” Silas answered. Houdini studied him for a bit, before smiling. “Very well. I will keep you updated.” Silas left the party quickly after that. He’d done what he’d came for here, there’s no room for any entertainment in his life. Not until he finds you.
A few weeks later marked the fourth anniversary of your kidnapping. Silas sat on a bench by the river, across from Westminster palace. Every year since you were taken, he’d have the palace be lit up by lanterns. He’d do this on your birthday if he knew it. What kind of husband doesnt know his wife’s birthday? He could also have the palace lit up on his wedding anniversary. But then again, he doesnt think you’d celebrate this union if you were still here.
No. The palace would be lit up on the day of your disappearance. Not to mark it as a day of sorrow. No. It was a request. A beg. A prayer, that if you were able to see this, you’d return. That if you were not able to come out of hiding because of the Ripper, then find comfort in the thought that Silas has not forgotten about you. He never will. The world may have moved on, may have started addressing you in past tense, but he won’t. You’re still alive. You’re still out there. And he wont give up until he finds you. You didn’t give up on him.
Its not about returning the favour. No, Silas has realised that he’ll never be able to compete with you, he’ll always be in your debt. Because you found him when you didn’t have anything, when the whole world was against you, you still saved him. And now that he had everything, all the contacts, all the money, all hurdles removed, he still wasn’t able to find you.
Where are you, Y/n?
Silas won’t say he’s in love with you. He doesnt think he has the right to. Love? Isn’t that reserved for people who don’t hurt their beloved? Isn’t that reserved for people who aren’t cursed like him? If his love was true, if it was pure, wouldn’t he have been able to find you? What has he not done to still not be able to find a trace of you? Where has he lacked?
He’d expanded his search from all over the world. Silas even went to Muslim countries, perhaps you’d gone into hiding there? He even went to Saudi Arabia, performed pilgrimage in Mecca, just for the sight of you. On paper, he was still a muslim. He never changed it since the day of the Nikkah. He won’t lie and call himself a believer, no. But he did pray in front of the Kabbah, a silent prayer as it rained.
What have you reduced me to, Y/n? He mocked himself. You made me fall to my knees, made me beg to a deity I don’t believe in, call out to the higher power, not for forgiveness, not for killing my uncle and cousins, not to ask for peace for my family’s souls, but for you. Asked God, Allah- that He may reunite us?
Who are you? You’re only human, nothing in comparison to others, yet I, Silas Edmund FitzGeorge, begged on my knees, pressed my forehead to the ground, called upon God and believed, if only for a fleeting moment, that He returns you to me. That if He gave you back, I’ll be the best man to you, I’ll take care of you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that you never cry again.
Silas used to think it was the Ripper who made him realise his worth.
He was wrong.
You’re the one who has made him realise his value.
Absolutely nothing without you.
-
Silas sat in his office at the London Post when Benjamin barged in. He was the only one allowed to still act this way because - well, he was your friend. He cared for you when Silas didnt. Plus, he was still helping him in finding you.
“Benjamin. Any progress?” Silas closed the file on his desk and gave the blonde his full attention.
Benjamin’s eyes were sharp. He’d grown aggressive since your kidnapping, becoming more brash by the year. Silas had heard he was often seen passed out in bars and even high on snow these days. If this continued, Silas wont have any use for him. He’s no good to him indisposed.
“No. There’s no news on Henry Blackwood or Lady Scarlet. I’m guessing Lady Scarlet ran off and is hiding with Blackwood. Probably started another club someplace.” He moved to sit from across Silas , putting his feet up on his desk. Trying to spite him.
Silas ignored his antics. “What about his businesses? Any of them still running?”
“Nope. They all closed off one by one, all his partners pulled out when they heard about the Ripper targeting his employees.” He raised his brows. “Guess you’re the richest man in Britain now, eh? Feel big enough yet?”
Another attempt at slighting. Silas ignored it. “If thats all, you can go now.” He opened his file again, not looking up as he heard the blonde scoff and leave his office, slamming the door on his way out. Moments later, Colin entered, as he would whenever Benjamin left.
Silas pulled out a cheque and gave it to him. “He’s quit working at the barber shop, hasn’t he?” Colin nodded. “He’s committed himself to finding Y/n. Though as time passes, his grief deepens. He’s been drinking a lot now.”
Silas kept his eyes down. You would know about the drinking, wouldn’t you Colin? He never brought up that he knew how often Colin drank during office hours.
“Take care of him, Colin. If you need more money, let me know.” Silas dismissed him. He’d always give the cheque to Colin, knowing Benjamin would never accept any money from him.
When he was done with work and returned home, he wasn’t expecting Harry Houdini to be waiting for him there.
“After a whole month? I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.” Silas lead him to the parlour, offering him a drink.
Harry Houdini sat on the edge of his seat, gathering himself. “I must admit, I haven’t been able to crack the case you’d given me. I haven’t found any possible way for that man to have been murdered so brutally without anyone noticing.” He admitted defeat and pulled out the cheque Silas had given him.
He sighed. “Keep it. For your trouble.” Harry sensed the tone of finality. Silas wasn’t going to take back his cheque. Like he knew that Harry wasn’t going to be able to help him.
“You seem like a good man, Silas.” Harry stood up, downing his drink. “Perhaps, if you allow, we could try an unconventional way?”
I’m all ears. Silas gave a nod for him to continue.
“Do you believe in spirits-?” “No.” Silas finished his drink and poured himself another. “But go on.”
Harry smirked. He was desperate. “You see, I’m an escape artist. I do- magic. Illusions. But even I believe that sometimes, there is just another realm out there, invisible to us, doing things that cannot be explained by the human mind.” He paused, letting his words sink in. Silas’s face remained void of emotions. “I believe that the dead can talk. Or perhaps otherworldly beings. Call them spirits, ghost, supernatural beings, whatever. I believe they have answers to questions man cannot answer.”
“So?”
“So, if you’d like, you can join me for a private meeting tonight. Who knows, maybe the spirits can help us find where your wife is. Or if we’re unlucky, maybe she might be the one who talks to you directly. At least, you’ll have closure.”
What a load of bullshit.
“What do you say? Can I count you in?” Harry wiggled his brows. Pathetic.
“Sure.”
Desperate times calls for desperate measures.
Later that evening, Silas was sitting in the basement of an abandoned church. He wasn’t the only one there. Harry, along with 8 other people, all seemingly belonging from high society were also present.
It was a seance, or rather a ploy to scam grieving people of their money. They were divided into two groups. Silas watched the first group sit down on the table, a woman wearing garb, pretending to be a wise gypsy or perhaps a witch, rubbed her hands over a crystal ball.
Theatrics. He watched the woman hold hands with the others and mumble gibberish. This went on for 10 minutes until the candles suddenly flickered and they all gasped, one of them even started crying for their loved one.
Eventually, it was his turn. He sat down with the rest of his group, letting the others go first. Finally, it was his turn. The woman pulled out a lettered board, or as she called it “Ouija board, with the spirits using the planchette to spell out what they want to say.
“It helps the spirits talk to us.” Why? Cant you hear them?
“Who would you like to speak to?” The woman asked him.
“Y/n.” He didnt want to think about you being dead. He was just curious as to what answer the woman could come up.
She closed her eyes, muttered gibberish- it wasn’t Latin. He knew Latin.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “She isn’t available.”
“What does that mean? Is she dead? Does she just not want to talk to me?”
She looked him dead in the eye. “She isn’t available. Would you like to talk to someone else?”
Alright. “Um… Sarah FitzGeorge.” He didnt want to say Daisy’s name to these delusional people. She’s suffered enough.
The woman closed her eyes, did her routine, then exhaled. “Sarah is here with us. Everyone, please put your hands on the planchette and lets say “Hello, Sarah.” Silas placed his hands on the planchette with everyone.
“Hello, Sarah.” Everyone repeated.
“Sarah, Silas would like to talk to you. Would you like to talk to him?” The planchette moved to “YES”.
“Silas, you may ask what you want.” The woman gave him the reigns.
“Um… are you well?” The planchette moved.
“D” “E” “A” “D”
“Right. Sorry. Um, do you know where Y/n is?”
The planchette moved. “YES”.
Silas looked at the rest of them. He was skeptical. Who was moving the planchette?
“Is she in trouble?” The planchette moved.
“NO.” That was comforting. Even if this lady is moving the board to make him spend more money.
“Is she hiding?”
“YES.” Good. She must’ve escaped him.
“Does she hate me?”
“NO.”
“Is she-” the planchette moved before he could finish his question.
“M” “A” “D”
“Mad? Is she in an asylum?” His fear returned.
“NO.”
“Then? Has she gone mad?”
“NO.”
“Mad. Mad- is she mad at me?”
“YES.” Oh.
“Why?” The planchette doesnt move.
“Why is she mad at me?” When he got no answer, he changed his question. “Where is she? I need to apologise.” The moving planchette gave him hope.
“D” “E” “A” “D”
What?
“She’s dead?” He didnt register the hopelessness in his own voice.
“YES.”
No.
“Take your hands off the planchette. All of you.” He growled at the rest of them, and they immediately retreated. It was only Silas who was holding the planchette. The lady tried to intervene. “This isn’t how it works-”
“Is she dead? Is Y/n dead?” Silas repeated.
The planchette moved. “YES.”
He doesnt remember the rest of the events. The lady took charge over the board again and bid Sarah goodbye when Silas remained silent. He was in shock. It didnt feel real. You’re dead?
“I hope you got the closure you needed.” Harry patted him on the back as the two exited the church. “How did she move the planchette?”
“What?” Harry was confused.
“What trick did she use? I was the one holding the planchette. How did she move it?” Silas glared at him.
“Silas, this wasn’t a trick. It was the spirit of Sarah FitzGeorge.”
“Stop.” Harry did. Silas dragged a hand over his face. “This is sick. You shouldnt- she shouldn’t exploit people like that.” Before Harry could say another word, he left.
Silas returned a week later. He was going to figure out her trick. Lucky for him, the lady would hold as many seances as he’d like to pay for. So, now it would just be him, the lady and… sometimes Houdini.
What used to be monthly visits, turned to weekly, until they turned to daily seances, all held at his home now. He used the Ouija board to talk to Sarah, only her. He couldn’t face the rest of his family, and… you never wanted to talk to him.
Another two years passed.
You were still “mad” at him. He’d tried tracking down the Ripper, he’d gotten rid of anyone who hurt Sarah, but she still wasn’t able to help him find the killer. How could she, when she didnt even know who he was.
Even after five years, he still wasn’t able to find you. If he had to guess, the Ripper got rid of your body, just like the rest of his victims. He didnt have the courage to ask Sarah how you had died.
“How do I make her forgive me?” He asked Harry. Silas had developed a sort of friendship with him. He wasn’t close, except he was in ways Silas never has had any of his friends before. Then again, Silas didnt even want to share something like “spiritual communication” with someone at all. He’d be laughed at.
Harry sipped his drink and shrugged. “I don’t know… buy her flowers?” Silas gaze sharpened. Harry raised his hands in defence. “Sorry. Um, well- I mean, perhaps finding her would be a starting point?”
“How? How do I find her if she’s already dead?”
“Um, its a totally different dimension she exists in now.”
“Dimension?” “Yeah. Realm. After-life, you know? We’ll all get there one day, when our time’s up, so… hang in there, man.” Harry finished his drink.
His words echoed in Silas’s mind.
And so, two weeks later, Silas stood in front of her.
“Hello. Its been a while.” He greeted the tombstone- his grandmother. “Or, maybe not. I mean, you have been “talking” to me.” He shook his head. “I know. Its ridiculous for me to think that “spirits talk”, I know. I am quite self aware that I may have been fooling myself into thinking that I was communicating with the dead, but could you blame me? I was lonely, I had a lot of money, and I was nowhere near finding Y/n.” He looked at the flowers you’d planted besides her grave.
“You were right about her, you know? About her being perfect for me.” A small smile graced his lips. “I used to think she was bad for me. And there was a time when I thought she was good for me.” He took a deep breath. “I do not think of her as good or bad for me anymore. I just think of her as mine.” He shook his head. You’d pull my cheeks and coo if you were here, wouldn’t you?
“Goodbye, grandma.”
When he returned home, Cadbury stood nervously. “Have you done what I’d asked for, Cadbury?”
“Yes- yes. Um, I went to the London Post and gave Colin the papers. He’s officially been promoted to the owner of the company. He didnt believe me and he kept slapping himself to “wake him out of this dream.” He’s gone mad.” Silas laughed. “I’m sure he’ll recover soon.”
Silas removed his coat as he went into his study, Cadbury following behind. “And- and I sold most of your properties and gave the proceedings to charity- “The Daisy FitzGeorge Foundation”.
“Good.” Silas sighed, before pulling out a file from his desk. “You’re fired, Cadbury.” He handed him the file.
“I- what?” Silas began walking out of the study.
“You’re fired. Effective immediately.”
“What? Why?!” The butler was appalled. “I’ve been loyal to you all these years, your only friend too- dare I say, family?!”
“Cadbury, dont be ridiculous. You don’t work for me anymore.” Silas put on his coat.
“This- this is just-” he opened the file, his eyes widening. “What is this?”
“I’ve fired you, Cadbury. I cant just leave you empty headed. This is the rest of your paycheque.”
“Sir-” Cadbury couldn’t take his eyes off the file. “You cant- you can’t just give me the house! This is your estate!”
“You deserve it, Cadbury.” Silas smiled. “Like you said, you’re family.” He turned to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m moving.”
“Where?”
“I dont know.”
“Sir.” The urgency in his voice made Silas turn back to him. “Are you alright?”
Silas nodded. “I’ve never been better. Goodbye, Cadbury.” He held out his hand for Cadbury to shake. The butler looked down at it before pulling him into a hug.
“Dont be emotional, Cadbury. Someone will see your tears.” Silas patted his back, chuckling as the butler held on tighter.
By midnight, Silas reached his destination. The abandoned church.
He walked inside, and tonight the events were going to be held on the ground floor. Not the basement. The place was prepared well tonight, cleaned up and candles illuminated the place. It was packed in here tonight. He wasn’t expecting this many attendees, all of whom were wearing red robes, all staring at him with blank eyes.
He strolled in and was quickly greeted by Harry, who lead him up to the altar. The cross was removed, he’d noticed, replaced by a symbol he couldn’t bother to recognise.
What would it matter? It wont change what he came here for.
Upon reaching the altar, Harry began speaking, “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we’ll be witnessing and helping our dear friend to travel dimensions. Tonight, we will-” Silas didnt bother to hear the rest of it. His mind was telling him that this is just a cult gone crazy. That he’s being sacrificed for nothing. He doesnt believe anything these people believe in.
“Tonight, we will help Silas meet his wife! He’ll join her, in eternal life, where they wont be despaired. Where no sadness exist. He’ll be rewarded for his struggles, for all his pain, and he’ll be reunited with his true love.” What if you don’t want to meet him? What if you’re still mad at him?
Harry handed Silas a chalice. “This chalice belonged to our great saint-” How does he talk so much? Does he not hear himself and want to rip out his vocal cords? “It contains the ambrosia of eternal life, only given to the brave ones who are ready to take their final journey. And so the-” Ambrosia of eternal life? You mean, poison?
“Lets all pray for our friend’s safe journey to the other realm. Silas, you may drink.” With that, Harry and the rest of the attendees began chanting some gibberish, further cementing his belief that he’s being set up by a crazy cult. At least, they wont be able to get his money. He had Cadbury take care of all his assets, concluded all his businesses, tied all the lose ends. He’s solid.
So if he doesnt believe in anything the cult does, and he knows he’s just being killed for money, why does he continue to drink?
I don’t care anymore. He began drinking. It was sweet. Too sweet, probably to mask whatever they added in. I’m not even sure about the afterlife, if there’s one. And I’m not sure if I’ll meet you there. He’s sure you’re dead. Thats what his logic says. After 6 years, the probability of you still being alive is unlikely.
So, whats the point of it all if you’re not here anymore?
As he finishes the drink, he begins to feel dizzy. He’s laid down on the floor and he finally admits it to himself.
Silas FitzGeorge loves Y/n.
Memories of you begin to flash across his mind.
Silas FitzGeorge loves Y/n.
Your smile, your laughter- how did he ever forget that beautiful sound? The crinkle of your eyes, the mischievous glint in them, even the way your nostrils flared when you were angry.
Silas FitzGeorge loves Y/n.
You were the best thing that ever happened to him. You were his wife, his beautiful, precious wife.
Silas FitzGeorge loves Y/n.
You cried for him, you fought for him, you defeated Death for him, you sacrificed yourself for him.
Silas FitzGeroge loves Y/n.
He could hear you screaming his name faintly. You would be mad at him for going out this way, but you’d understand, right? Right?
Life began to drain out of him, his breathing shallowed.
Silas FitzGeorge loved Y/n.
Harry knelt down to check his breathing, then his pulse.
“He’s dead. Lets go.”
He left with the rest of the attendees. They all stood outside as one of them poured kerosene all over the church and then lit it up. They all watched it for hours until nothing but ash was left. Harry turned to them all, taking a quick bow. “You’ve all been very helpful. We will not forget Silas’s sacrifice. He has opened the door to the other world now. Your loved ones will now be absolved of their sins and be at peace!” The crowd erupted in cheers.
Harry returned to his house, where someone was waiting for him. “Its done. He’s dead.” He watched the man appear from the shadows. “You checked?” “Yes. Then burned down the place. Got rid of the body too.” Harry poured himself a drink and raised his glass.
“Welcome back, Mr Blackwood.”
Henry smirked. “Thank you. Your payment has already been sent to your account.”
“And the other favour?”
“Ah, yes. I’ve managed to arrange a meeting with the queen for you.” “Really?” Harry was surprised. “The mourning queen would see me?”
Henry nodded. “I sang praises of your talent. Who knows, she might be interested in the seances you set up.”
Harry chuckled. “So, how does it feel to be the most powerful man in Britain, now that your sole competitor is gone?”
“Its always good to be home.” Henry then left Harry’s place, all his dominoes were finally falling into place. With Silas gone, not only will he take the reigns over all his businesses, but also influence politics.
As he got into his carriage, he nodded at his two men, who quickly went upstairs to take care of Harry.
Like he would have introduced that idiot to the queen. What a tool.
His carriage began to move and he closed his eyes.
Once his business is concluded here, he’ll be back home to you.
-
You don’t know how much time has passed. You’re still trying to wrap your head around everything, about the Ripper’s identity. You’d never imagined it to be him.
How could it have been? You’ve been trying to match his story with everything, trying to see if you were truly so blind to have missed all the signs?
I didnt.
This- this isn’t possible. It shouldn’t be possible-
“Woah. Your brain’s going to fry if you keep thinking so hard.” You snapped at the sound of his voice. The robed figure with the black mask and top hat, wearing his three-piece suit sat down beside. He was the Ripper’s second-in-command. His right hand.
The first time he had removed his mask, you were shocked. How could- how could he be working with the Ripper?!
He took off his mask and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it before giving you a lazy smile. “What?” He asked when you stared at him.
“I just cant believe its you, Benny.” You tilted your head, devastated at the fact that he was the killer’s accomplice. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.” Benny could see you trying to link some traumatic backstory to who he is now. “I chose this. You don’t understand it now, but we’re the good guys. Even if our methods are unconventional.” He patted your head, letting his hand play with your hair. Like old times.
He wasn’t the Benny you thought you knew though.
“How can you just… trust him?” He smiled at your question. He truly felt like explaining something to a child. “I just do. He’s made me see the reality of everything, given me a true purpose. I know its hard to see the bigger picture, but you’ll trust him soon too. In fact, I think a part of you already has begun to. Isnt that why you’ve been going along with him everywhere?” He raised his brows at you, his eyes still so gentle.
Is this the face of a killer?
You looked away from him, the wheels in your head turning again.
Adorable. Benny thought, still playing with the ends of your hair. “May I braid it?” He didnt wait for an answer, already standing behind you.
“I’m still the same man, Y/n. You just didnt know this side of me then.” He reassured you gently, as if understanding that you may be blaming yourself for being stupid. “You weren’t supposed to know before time. Though I’m surprised you didnt get a little suspicious of me.”
“I was suspicious. I thought you were the Ripper.” You defended yourself.
“And yet you went around with me?”
I chose to ignore it. “I didnt want it to be true…” The way you said it made him think of a child who’d just discovered that Santa Claus wasn’t real.
He tied your braid with a ribbon and came around to face you. Cupping your cheeks, he said earnestly. “I’m still your Benny, Y/n. I still care about you. And I always will. I will never hurt you. I promise.”
You just stared at him, searching for the cracks in his poker face. There weren’t any.
He pulled back, nodding his head towards the door. “He’s waiting for you. Go on, now.”
You sighed before getting up.
Reaching the room with the damn painting, you found him waiting there. Taking a deep breath, preparing yourself for what he’d give you today, you walked unto him.
He smiled when he saw you, his dimples appearing.
The Ripper has dimples.
You peaked up at him from your lashes before looking back down at the ground. Its not that you’re shy, or scared. You- you just don’t know what to say.
“Something troubles you.” He lowered his head to meet your eyes. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart.
“It’s nothing.” You avoided his gaze, only for him to lift your chin. “It is something if it bothers you.” You pursed your lips. He wasn’t going to let it go.
“I just don’t understand how you’re the Ripper- how you even exist?”
He suppressed a smile. He didnt want to make you feel silly, but he couldn’t help but tease. “I’d figure that someone who came from the modern times and has your education would understand it better than others.”
“Silas.” He chuckled, apologising quickly.
Yes, Silas is the Ripper. London’s most notorious killer was Silas FitzGeorge.
But not your Silas, not the one you married. No, this is an older Silas, looked to be in his early forties, but he claimed to be 52. His hair had barely begun to grey, his eyes were still the same stormy color, and his dimples-
“Alright, I’ll explain this as many times as you’d like.” Silas took a deep breath. “I’m Silas FitzGeorge. I’m from another dimension, one where you also existed. And when similar events as of this timeline followed, my Y/n died. I looked all over the world for you, for about a decade, before deciding to join the Templars, where I was able to discover you and the concept of time travelling. Using the Templars, I started a society- or rather woke up a branch of the Templars, who also call them as “The Circle”, whose mission is to dedicate their lives to keeping the balance of time and events, and stop anyone trying to disrupt the timelines for sinister purposes.”
“And Benny?”
“Ah, Benjamin was already a Templar Knight. When he heard about “The Circle”, he was intrigued.”
“Did he- did he really kill all of those people?”
“Henry’s employees? Yes, yes he did.” He watched your face fell. “He was only trying to protect you.”
You didnt appreciate his attempt at consoling you. “Who killed me? In your dimension?”
“One of Henry’s men. It was presented as an accident. You died in a fire.”
“So, why are you here? You want me to replace her?” You asked cautiously. He smiled, shaking his head.
“Of course not. Even though you two share the same face and traits, there’s still something unique about her. She was my Y/n. We have shared many memories. No one can replace her, not even you.”
“So, why are you here?”
“To keep you safe. To prevent you from being killed. I wasn’t successful with other versions of you.”
“Other versions. You mean there are more dimensions?”
“There are infinite number of dimensions, Y/n. But we don’t exist in all of them. In fact, I’ve found myself in 9 others. You? Only in 2 others. One was mine, and one was in another, where you had died in childhood, a car accident.”
“Cant you use the time machine to bring your Y/n back?”
He shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “You cant raise the dead, Y/n. I’ve tried turning the time back to save her, but she’d always end up dying. Her death was already written, set in stone. Once the events have occurred, I cant change her end. I stopped trying after the 20th attempt. I watched her die twenty times, each death worse than the previous one. I can’t put her through it again just to relive my time with her again.” Silas sighed, something clear in his eyes. “This is why I came here, to save you. I’ve spent the last 20 years, figuring out all the events and changing them down to the last detail, just so that I can save you. If you’re alive and return to your time, I’ll have broken chain of events. You wont be killed.”
“And why am I being killed? What does Henry want?”
“Power. Revenge. Perhaps he deems you to be a threat if you’re the only FitzGeorge alive. Or maybe he just didnt take kindly to being rejected.” Silas smirked. “That is the common thing in the other universes you were in. You always rejected him.”
“It’s been years since I’ve gone missing. How come you and I haven’t aged?”
“We age only in our own timelines. That is what I’ve observed so far.” You suppose it’s true, because even after he’s taken you through so many different eras, you haven’t aged a day.
You looked at the time machine in his hands. “I still cant understand how you managed to understand the science time travelling. I mean, you may have graduated from Oxford but your education was limited to the Victorian period.”
He laughed, his dimples appearing again. “You underestimate the human mind and its capabilities when motivated.” You glared at him. “How did the Egyptians build the pyramids? With absolutely no modern machines, how did they even lift those heavy blocks?” You shrugged. He smiled, extending his palm towards you as his other hand set a date in the time machine.
“Let’s find out.”
-
Henry’s in his office when his assistant brings in his mail. “This was left for you without a return address.”
He looks at the envelope, then opens it. Its an invitation.
“Welcome back, Mr Blackwood. At the behalf of Freemasons London, we invite you to a night of socialisation with the future world leaders.”
Freemasons, huh. He closed the envelope.
I suppose there’s no harm in making more contacts and blackmailing more people.
He’d decided to go.
And once he’s done here, he’ll be back at home with you.
He reached the building- a castle rather. So, this was the Freemasons lodge? Fancy.
Henry spotted some men, who didnt say a word. They just lead him inside and he was waiting in the lobby, to be joined by the others. He adjusted his cufflinks, fixing the collar of his coat.
What? He wanted to make a good impression.
A shadow watched from above, hiding in the dark, waiting for the other one to arrive.
And then he did.
The shadow smirked.
Showtime.
Henry was still adjusting his collar when he sensed something.
A breath. Someone elses.
He ducked just as a knife was thrown at his head.
“Oh, sorry I missed.” Henry glared at him.
“Silas? How did you-”
“Survive? Did you really think I was just going to kill myself and let you win?” Silas scoffed. “I’ll take you down with me.”
Henry smirked, shaking his head. “Is that the only weapon you had on you, or are you ready to fight like a man?” He removed his jacket, folding it neatly as he set it aside.
Silas raised his fists. “You’ll pay for coming after me and my family.” And the duel began.
Silas landed the first punch and Henry grinned through the blood pooling in his teeth. “Good punch. It’ll be fun to beat you down now.” And then, Henry landed a series of hits that Silas wasn’t able to dodge. “When I kill you, I’ll enjoy taking over everything you own. And then I’ll have Y/n-” He was cut off as Silas kicked him in the gut, making him bend and Silas threw another punch, knocking him off his feet. Silas climbed over him, punching him again and again.
“Where is she?! Where have you kept her?!” Henry cackled through the hits.
“She’s in my bed right now, waiting for me to fil-”
“HOW DARE YOU?!” Silas’s anger had reached its peak and he was intent on killing him.
The shadow watched with a smile as the two men fought. Silas had mistaken Henry for the Ripper.
Benjamin looked at his watch, then pulled away from the balcony and went inside the room with the painting, waiting for you and the Ripper to return.
Any moment now.
And then a bright flash appeared, and you two appeared.
“Benny?” You looked at him, surprised to see him waiting.
“I’d greet you in a better way but we have a situation.” He looked at Silas. “Henry’s here.”
“No.” Silas face went grim. “He wasn’t supposed to find her- how did he even know about this place?”
Benjamin shrugged. “I have no idea, but he’s down there fighting with Silas. This timeline’s Silas.”
Silas is here? You tried to follow them, but the elder Silas stopped you. “No. You need to stay here.” “I cant-” But he cupped your face. “Please, Y/n. I cant endanger you. If something happens to you, all of this, all my work will be for naught. Please.” He was begging. You nodded stiffly, and he smiled. “Good girl.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before taking your hands, squeezing them reassuringly. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared into his eyes. “I’ll be back soon. Benjamin, guard her with your life.” You watched him slip on his mask and leave.
“Benny, whats going on? Tell me the truth. How did either of them find this place?”
“The two of them mistook the other for the Ripper. They’re fighting for you.” He sighed, walking near you, gathering your hair and placing it on over your left shoulder. “As for how they found this place… well, someone sent out an invitation to Henry. And Silas had faked his death to make Henry come out of hiding, and Silas now followed him here.”
Your brows furrowed. “What? Silas faked his- who sent out the invite?”
“I did.” You didnt have time to react as he pressed on a pressure point, making your world go black.
-
Silas came just in time to see his younger self beating the life out of Henry. But at the sound of movement, the younger one looked up, confusion flashing across his face.
If the Ripper is there, then-
Henry took this moment of distraction to throw Silas off him and he knocked him out cold with a punch. He turned around, only to get hit in the face by the Ripper.
Henry spit out the blood, cracking his neck as he smirked at him. “You’re the reason why my employees died. I’m going to fuck you up.”
However, over the course of next 15 minutes, it ended with Henry being the one who got “fucked up”.
Henry was lying on the ground with at least a dozen broken bones, and he was in a world of pain, as evident by his laboured breathing, barely hanging onto consciousness.
“I’ve been looking forward to this day for the past 30 years.” He pulled out a knife and held it against Henry’s throat. “What a disappointing opponent you turned out to be.”
Just as he was about slit his throat, a bloody scream ripped through the air.
“SILAS!!!!!”
The Ripper’s eyes shot towards the room he’d left you in, smoke had started to come out of the closed doors.
Y/n.
-
Fifteen minutes ago.
You woke up to the sight of Benjamin hovering over you, tying your arms together. Your feet already done so.
“Ah, I was hoping you wouldn’t wake up for this part, but oh well. I suppose it’s tradition for me to confess my crimes to you, as I did in every other universe where I killed you.” He’d placed you on the altar.
“B-Benny, what are you doing? Stop-” Your eyes filled with tears. He cooed. “Shh, don’t worry. I told you, I’m one of the good ones. The ones on the right side of history, and religion.” You tried to reach for the time machine you’d hid in your sleeve when Silas slipped it in your hands.
“Looking for this?” Benjamin dangled the device in front of you before chucking it aside. “Had to get it off you before you slipped away. Silly girl, making me chase after you.”
He pulled out a rosary with the cross and slipped it over your head, onto your neck. “I am the Templar Knight, I will never wrong you or my faith. If its any consolation, this will be quick and painless. This time, at least.”
“Benny, you said you’d never hurt me-” You struggled against the ropes. He held you down, and stared into you. “I am not hurting you, Y/n. I am saving you. I am saving us all.” He pulled out a flask and began anointing you with what you assume was Holy Water.
“I would’ve loved to baptised you, but we don’t have the time for that.” 
“Please stop.”
“You should be thanking me.” He chided you in almost a motherly tone. “I am making you holy, I am returning you to your maker, I am returning you to Baldwin.”
Your blood curdled. Baldwin?
“Silas- he doesnt see it, that old fool. He’s too far gone in love to ever understand his duty. His responsibility as a Templar. I do! I cant allow sacred, holy, pure creatures like you be just tainted by the world! No, you’re divine, you’re blessed- just like the Holy Grail.”
Oh no. Its only dawning on you now that Benny’s not just a lunatic. He’s a religious lunatic!
“Benny- BENJAMIN! Stop- if I’m so sacred, WHY ARE YOU KILLING ME?!” You shrieked, struggling against your restraints. “Just keep me around like the damned painting- or the Holy Grail!”
He sighed, shaking his head. How naive you are. “Y/n, hey- shh. I can’t you keep you like an artifact. You’re a living being, I have to sacrifice you before the world taints you. You’re already onto believing that you’re Muslim or married to a heretic like Silas.” He pulled out a knife and your breath hitched.
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God- please- please don’t do this-”
“Dont you understand? This is a good thing. When I kill you, the balance will be restored. I’ve done the math, I swear. With you gone, King Baldwin would’ve never left Jerusalem. Christianity would’ve been the religion of the land. We would’ve ruled all over the world. Humanity will be saved.” He patted your hair as you cried. “Dont worry. I will personally make sure to preserve your sacrifice. I will pray for you, although I think, God will be merciful to you and allow you to enter paradise. You’ll be reunited with Baldwin.”
He’s crazy. He’s crazy. He’s crazy.
“Ive done this before. It was a very quick, very painless death. You remember Daisy?” Your jaw dropped. No. No.
“You killed Daisy?!”
“I had to. How else would’ve Silas been driven by guilt to reach here?” He positioned himself over your head. “Silas thought he was the mastermind behind everything. He couldn’t have been more wrong.” You sniffled, and Benjamin’s eyes softened. “Benny, please- I don’t want to die- please, I don’t want to die!” He set his knife aside, and ran a hand through your hair. “Its okay. Calm down, love. I know its scary, but I’ll help you through this. Forget about the knife- hey, hey.”He cupped your face to make you look at him when your teary eyes drifted towards the painting hiding behind the drapes, illuminated by the candles. He wiped your tears, his heart actually melting at the sight of the big fat tears in your doe eyes. “You remind me of my baby sister. She was so much like you, so pretty, so innocent, yet always a mischievous glint in her eye. Breathe. Breathe, Y/n.” You took a deep breath, a feat that seemed so hard to do now that you were going to die. “You’ve healed a part of me, you know. You let me be the big brother she never had. Thank you.” And just like that, you saw a glimpse of the old Benny. The one you could never imagine killing someone.
He knelt down to press a kiss to your hairline, but you took that moment to knock your head against his hard, throwing off and allowing you to roll away, the sudden movement made your legs hit the candle and push it over, causing the drapes to catch on fire. Benjamin reached for you, but you jerked your bound legs in a way that made you kick him in the chest. You spotted the time machine lying just a few feet away from you and you leapt towards it, the fire behind you catching onto the entire wall.
You were only a few inches away from the device when Benjamin grabbed your ankle and yanked you back. “Enough!” He yelled when you thrashed in his arms.
“SILAS!” You screamed his name and seconds later, the door bust open to reveal the Ripper.
“Get away from her!” Benjamin threw you to the side and you hit your head, knocking yourself out.
The two men began fighting. No doubt, the Ripper was stronger and better at fighting, and Benjamin couldn’t be fast enough to dodge the hits.
Outside, Silas had finally regained consciousness. He looked to the side, where Henry was out cold, badly beaten, barely alive. He then looked upstairs, the sound of yelling and the sight of smoke brought him back to reality.
If Henry is not the Ripper, then-
His eyes widened. Y/n is here! He dashed upstairs to the room.
His eyes darted first towards the Ripper and- Benjamin? What is he doing here? The Ripper was punching Benjamin over and over again, and only then did he spot you lying on the ground, only a few feet away from the burning wall.
Y/n!
Silas was about to run, when he hesitated. What am I doing? Run to her! His mind screamed at his body to move, to save you, but it was like the months of torture had suddenly paralysed his body.
Everyone you’ve ever loved has suffered because of you! You’re worthless. The Ripper’s words echoed in his mind. I’m worthless. I’m worthless.
He watched the Ripper throw Benjamin against the wall, only sparing Silas a glance before turning towards you. You were groaning, lifting your head as you looked at the Ripper.
“Silas.” You called out for him, even as the Ripper walked in your direction. You were calling for him even in the face of death.
Do I deserve her? Am I worthy of her? Irrelevant. She called out for me!
And it was like you’d broken him out of trance.
He ran. “GET AWAY FROM HER!” His heart skipped a beat at the sight of your small head in the Ripper’s murderous hands. Pumped on adrenaline, Silas jumped on the killer.
“I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU!” Silas began throwing punches, while the Ripper only defended himself.
“Silas! Silas!” You stumbled onto your legs, calling for him to stop but it was like he’d gone deaf. The Ripper- elder Silas looked at you and nodded for you to get out of here. You suppose he’ll handle this situation then. You picked up the time machine, running towards the exit when you saw the fire had reached the roof, when you were suddenly grabbed by your hair and yanked.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Benjamin yanked you back inside the burning room. “Let me go!” You clawed at his hands that were embedded in your hair. He dragged you back near the burning painting, where his knife laid. “We could’ve done this the easy way, but every version of you has to fight me!” He threw you to the ground and you screamed in pain.
The Ripper punched Silas in the jaw and threw him off him. He dashed towards you just in time to push Benjamin away and as the two men struggled, Benjamin stabbed him in the chest just before the Ripper snapped his neck.
Silas looked down at you and your eyes were staring at his stab wound. “Dont worry about it. I’m- I’m fine.” That would be a more convincing argument if blood didnt spurt out of his mouth. He knelt down, checking on you. “Are you alright? Can you move?” You nodded, only to hear a loud crack. You two looked up to see the roof which breaking, and before you could react, he took the time machine from you and set the date.
Your eyes widened. My machine!
The roof fell and he shoved the machine in your palm, pressing on the button, pulling you under him and shielding you from the burning roof. You felt it fall on him, but before you could pull him along with you, you’d already teleported.
The Ripper was dead. And so were you. Silas saw the burning roof fall on two of you.
He doesnt remember being pulled out of the burning building, he doesnt remember anything.
All he can see is the sight of the roof falling on you and the Ripper.
He failed. Again.
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I want detailed reviews and comments please 🥰🥰🥰
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toodymcdoody · 3 days ago
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so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god
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toodymcdoody · 8 days ago
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୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ academic rivalry with rich boy gojo, but you genuinely don’t like him and he doesn’t understand it until it’s too late.
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gojo doesn’t know you hate him.
in fact, if anyone asked, he’d probably say you like him. maybe even admire him, the way people tend to admire the sun when it catches their face in an accidental beam of warmth. he’s so sure of this that he’s never once considered the possibility that your tight smile isn’t playful, that your clipped tone isn’t just a quirk, that you might actually—god forbid—despise him.
he thinks you’re playing.
and why wouldn’t he? to him, everything is a game. he’s been winning since he was born—money, intelligence, height, beauty, charm, every stacked advantage you could imagine. the universe has been dealing him aces since day one, so when you come along and you’re… sharp—razor-sharp, not in the way that flatters but in the way that bites—he sees it as a worthy challenge.
you don’t just compete with him, you match him. quiz scores, debates, grades, presentations—you’re always right there, nipping at his heels or, occasionally, yanking the rug out from under him entirely. most people try to keep up with gojo. you try to trip him. and god, he thinks it’s fun.
he’s convinced the tension between you is mutual amusement. to him, every scathing remark you throw is just another volley in your private match, another brick in the strange little castle you’ve been building together for years.
and he likes it. likes you.
he makes a game of finding you in every room. you could be hidden in the corner of a crowded lecture hall, pretending to be engrossed in your notes, and he’ll still spot you in a heartbeat, striding over with that easy, infuriating smile. he talks to you like he’s letting you in on some secret, even when it’s just to point out that your pen ran out of ink and offer you one of his obnoxiously expensive ones.
he saves seats for you without asking.
he slips you answers when he thinks you’re stuck (you never are).
he says things like, “you’d miss me if i disappeared” with such unshakable confidence it makes your skin crawl.
the worst part? everyone else sees it too. to them, you’re just another in a long list of people charmed—begrudgingly or otherwise—by gojo satoru. your professors tease you about your “healthy academic rivalry.”
your classmates watch the two of you trade barbs like it’s some sort of will-they-won’t-they sitcom subplot.
nobody realises that while he’s busy grinning at you over the rim of his coffee cup, you’re thinking about how nice it would be to knock it out of his hands. to him, your relationship is the most exciting part of his academic life.
to you, it’s the most exhausting.
because you hated gojo satoru before you even met him.
not personally—back then, you didn’t even know his name. but you knew the type. loud, untouchably confident, born with more than they could ever deserve. the kind of boy who makes an entire room feel like they’re living in his orbit whether they want to or not.
and then you sat down for your first lecture of the semester, cracked open your notebook, and heard his voice behind you—smooth, careless, as if he were narrating life for an audience that existed solely to adore him.
of course.
but disliking him in theory was easy. hating him in practice took time.
the first time you realised you truly couldn’t stand him was during that stupid pop quiz. the professor was walking around, collecting answer sheets, and yours was barely dry from the last thing you scribbled down when a hand reached over your shoulder and took it. gojo. grinning, waving it in front of you like he’d just snatched candy from a child.
“don’t worry, i’ll hand it in for you.”
he didn’t wait for a thank you—just sauntered off, humming under his breath. when the grades came back, you noticed the coffee stain on the bottom corner of your paper.
you told yourself it was petty to care.
but then it happened again, in different ways.
the time he “accidentally” spilled water near your laptop but somehow turned it into a joke about you overreacting.
the way he always managed to just barely beat you in class rankings, like he was toying with the margin on purpose.
how he’d answer a question you were raising your hand for, looking over his shoulder to wink at you while the professor praised him.
the worst part was how untouchable he was. no matter what he did, everyone liked him. the professors adored his wit. classmates leaned toward him in conversation like plants toward sunlight. even the people he embarrassed seemed to forgive him instantly.
and you? you played along.
because to break the illusion would mean explaining— to people who wouldn’t understand—that he wasn’t your rival in the fun, cinematic way they thought. he wasn’t a foil or a muse. he was just… exhausting.
so you kept your voice dry and your smile tight when you spoke to him. you let him think it was banter. you let everyone else think so, too. because it was easier to let the world believe you were some clever pair locked in an endless, flirtatious duel than admit the truth: you wanted him out of your life.
and yet, despite all that—he was everywhere.
every class. every study group. every event you didn’t even know he’d be attending until you heard his laugh from across the room. and each time, he’d make a beeline for you, all effortless energy, as if you were a fixed point in his compass.
you hated how good he was at finding you. you hated even more that you’d started noticing when he wasn’t there.
still, the things he did to piss you off(or just things he did, the way he existed) were too irritating, you absolutely despised him sometimes.
like that time you were deep into exam prep, surrounded by a fortress of books, when a hand slid a cup of coffee across the table toward you. you didn’t look up, because of course it was him, but you did say, flatly,
“if this has spit in it, i’m reporting you.”
gojo dropped into the chair across from you like he’d been invited. “spit? no way. that’s an artisanal oat latte. i had to wait in line for seven minutes for that.”
you stared at him. “i didn’t ask you to.”
“oh, i know.” he leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “but if you burn out before the exam, who will i crush?”
you meant to roll your eyes and go back to your notes. instead, what came out was, “you’re not half as smart as you think you are.”
he grinned. “sure i am. you just think you’re smarter.”
you bit down on the urge to tell him you didn’t think—you knew.
or when you’d somehow gotten paired with him for a group project. halfway through a work session, he started idly tapping his pen against your notebook.
you looked up. “can you not?”
“what, this?” he kept tapping.
“yes, that.” your voice sharpened, the way it did when you were one irritation away from snapping. “you’re distracting.”
his eyes lit up like you’d complimented him. “oh? then it’s working.”
you were so stunned by the sheer audacity of that answer that you just stared at him, giving him exactly the amused eye contact he thought you meant in the first place.
or the afternoon you’d just gotten a test back—second place again, him barely ahead—and you found him leaning against the wall outside, already waiting.
“congrats,” you said dryly, shoving the paper into your bag. “another half-point victory for the golden boy.”
he raised a brow. “you sound jealous.”
“i sound annoyed.”
“same thing, in my experience.” he fell into step beside you as you walked away, his voice easy and bright. “don’t worry. one day you’ll beat me again, and i’ll act all shocked, and we’ll laugh about it. that’s our thing.”
you stopped mid-step. “our thing?”
he smiled like it was obvious. “yeah. the whole ‘you chasing me, me pretending you’re catching up’ thing. it’s cute.”
you almost told him you weren’t chasing him at all. instead, you kept walking, because you knew it wouldn’t matter—he’d just think you were raising the stakes.
one late afternoon, after a seminar, you finally let the irritation slip.
“do you ever stop?” you asked as you both left the building.
he tilted his head. “stop what?”
“being—” you gestured vaguely at his whole existence “—you.”
“not really,” he said cheerfully. “i mean, would you want me to?”
you opened your mouth to say yes, but he was already smirking, like he’d caught you in some elaborate romantic setup. “yeah, didn’t think so.”
you hated him.
and worse—you hated that he was right about one thing: you’d never really get rid of him.
because of that, for a while, it was easier to hate him.
hatred is simple—it’s sharp and clean, like the edge of a paper you didn’t see coming. but somewhere between the constant barbs and the inevitable groupings and the countless “accidental” encounters, you started… not minding him as much.
it was never a sudden switch. it was little things.
like the time your umbrella broke in a sudden downpour and he wordlessly held his over you the whole walk to the station—not teasing, not smug, just humming something under his breath and keeping you both dry. you didn’t thank him, but you also didn’t tell him to get lost.
or how, during one particularly brutal presentation day, he passed you a pack of gum under the table before yours started. you didn’t notice until after you’d nailed it, when he leaned over and said, “told you it’s magic,” and you realised he’d given you his last piece.
and there was that week you got sick. you didn’t tell anyone, but you came into class looking pale and ready to collapse. he noticed instantly—slid his notebook across so you could copy without asking, didn’t make a single joke about it. that was weird for him. unsettling. you didn’t copy anything, instead giving him an exhausted, weirded out look.
yet you started to think… maybe he wasn’t completely insufferable.
you still didn’t like him—god no—but there were moments where the energy between you didn’t feel like a battle. sometimes it was just… something. it felt like calm before storm.
and then came the internship.
you’d both applied for it—competitive, prestigious, the kind of thing that could shove open doors for the rest of your career. you wanted it so badly you’d cut your free time to nothing, prepping and polishing every piece of your application until it was practically a reflection of your soul.
when the results came in, you didn’t even have to check the email. you saw him in the hallway—leaning against the wall, phone in hand, that unstoppable grin stretched across his face.
“guess who’s officially off to the big leagues,” gojo announced to… well, everyone. he was holding his phone up like a trophy, scrolling through something with one hand while he waved the other in a lazy half-gesture. a couple of classmates offered congratulations, and he soaked it up like sunlight.
you felt the floor tilt under you.
you’d been waiting for that email all morning. checking your inbox every ten minutes, refreshing so much your phone battery had dipped into the red. you’d prepped for this internship like your life depended on it—cutting back on sleep, skipping out on weekends, combing through every requirement until you knew them better than your own name.
and he’d gotten it.
of course he had.
when he spotted you, his grin widened. “ohhh, there’s my runner-up. c’mon, don’t keep me in suspense—did you get it too?”
“no,” you said, too fast.
he blinked. “really? huh. weird. you were working your ass off.”
you don’t know if it was the casual way he said it, or the fact that he meant it like some kind of backhanded compliment, or just the sheer unfairness of it all—but something in you cracked.
“yeah, well, some of us have to,” you said, and it came out sharper than you intended.
he tilted his head. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“it means you breeze through everything without trying, and then you stand there acting like it’s all just some fun little game.” you stepped forward before you could stop yourself, voice rising. “i killed myself over that application. i did everything right. and you—”
you broke off, because your hands were shaking.
gojo straightened slightly, the first flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “hey, it’s not like i didn’t work for it—”
“you didn’t work for this. not like i did. not like anyone else did. you just… exist. and things happen for you. they always have. you can waltz into any room and get whatever you want, because you’re gojo satoru, and people fall over themselves to give it to you.”
he opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him, hand flying up to shut him.
“and you know what? i don’t think this rivalry thing you keep talking about is cute. i don’t think you’re clever, or charming, or any of that crap you clearly believe about yourself. i don’t like you, gojo. i fucking hate you. i have from the start.”
the hallway felt suddenly, horribly quiet. someone down the way ducked into a classroom.
gojo just stared at you.
for the first time since you’d met him, he didn’t look like he had a quick comeback ready. he didn’t even look like he knew where to start.
“okay,” he said finally, and it wasn’t his usual playful tone—it was quieter. “didn’t realise you felt that way.”
you almost laughed, because how could he not have realised? but you didn’t. you just shouldered past him and walked away, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your teeth.
he didn’t move for a long time after you walked away.
he just stood there, phone still in his hand, screen dimming to black while the echo of your voice replayed in his head.
i don’t like you. i hate you. i have from the start.
gojo satoru wasn’t used to people telling him they hated him.
sure, he’d heard worse in debates, maybe in a couple of online comment sections, but those were strangers. disposable opinions. and when people didn’t like him in real life, they usually hid it. smiled through their teeth. tolerated him because it was easier than being on his bad side—or, more often, because they didn’t want to miss out on the good side.
you?
he thought you were in on it. the banter, the jabs, the constant back-and-forth—he thought that was your thing. your thing. he’d built the whole framework of whatever the hell your relationship was on that assumption.
and you’d just ripped it apart in a handful of sentences.
he tried to replay your expression, but all he could see was the way your hands had been shaking. not in fear but in that kind of restrained fury that felt personal. not academic, not playful. personal.
“dude, congrats on the internship,” someone said, passing by.
gojo smiled automatically, a thin, mechanical curl of his mouth. “yeah. thanks.”
his body moved through the rest of the day on autopilot. meetings, classes, congratulations. he kept hearing bits of your voice threaded through the noise.
you just exist. and things happen for you. they always have.
it wasn’t like he’d never heard that before—he had. but from you, it landed differently.
by the time he got home, the words had settled somewhere heavy in his chest. he told himself it was just surprise. he told himself you’d cool down, that you’d come back in a week with some sarcastic remark and they’d pick up where they left off.
but there was something else gnawing at him—a suspicion that maybe you hadn’t just been angry about the internship. maybe you’d been angry this whole time, and he’d been too wrapped up in his own little game to see it.
and for the first time since he’d met you, he wasn’t entirely sure how to win.
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toodymcdoody · 11 days ago
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college au!megumi , he’s so sweet. so kind and nice. he has the patience of a saint.
at least with you…only with you.
exams are coming up. family drama is stirring again. it’s a lot on your plate and he can tell. especially during the night, when he wakes up and you’re still on your phone. he tells you to go to sleep, puts a warm hand on your belly, and lets his thumb rub it.
but the obvious eyebags under your eyes show that you still had a rough time going to sleep.
he’s just helping the next night, wanting to stimulate your brain another way. he’s read orgasms help people go to sleep after, and he knows that’s a fact with you.
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toodymcdoody · 11 days ago
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FICS/ONE SHOT RECS.
symptoms & causes.
pairing: professor!gojo x med student!reader status: ongoing author: @lostfracturess plot: a brilliant neurosurgeon and your professor, gojo satoru is arrogant and self-centered. when you’re assigned to his research team, you’re thrust into a complex relationship that delves into both the brain and the heart, testing boundaries and emotions.
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remedies and reasons.
pairing: professor!geto x lawyer student!reader status: ongoing author: @lostfracturess plot: a miserable internship, an unexpected mentor, and a drunken night at the bar spark a messy, complicated connection. friendship turns into something more, but his heart is already taken.
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Calling you home.
pairing: pilot!gojo x air traffic controller!reader status: completed author: @lostfracturess plot: a high-flying romance unfolds between a charismatic pilot and a dedicated air traffic controller. their professional connection leads to a personal one, navigating the challenges of their demanding careers and blossoming love.
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in holy matriphony.
pairing: neighbor & realtor gojo x nurse reader status: ongoing author: @celestie0 plot: gojo satoru, your annoyingly charming neighbor, becomes entangled in your life when you, a nurse working night shifts, and he, a realtor, are forced into a fake marriage due to unforeseen circumstances.
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around the clock.
pairing: boxer/babysitter gojo x college student reader status: completed author: @celestie0 plot: struggling with finances, underground boxer gojo satoru takes up a babysitting job for a five-year-old named yuuji. amidst the chaos, he finds himself drawn to you, the college student managing the household, leading to unexpected romantic developments.
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motherhood and matrimony.
pairing: ceo!satoru gojo x single mom secretary!reader status: ongoing author: @alygator77 plot: after the sudden death of his father, satoru gojo inherits a billion-dollar corporation with a stipulation: he must marry and have a child. enter you, a single mother and his secretary, who agrees to a fake marriage for mutual benefit.
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vows of duty.
pairing: arranged clanhead!satoru x fem!reader status: ongoing author: @alygator77 plot: in a world where clan politics reign, satoru gojo, the powerful clan head, enters into an arranged marriage with you. what begins as a political alliance slowly transforms into a deeper bond, challenging both of your perceptions of duty and love.
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the arrangement.
(you can find act 1 and 2 + drabbles)
pairing: arranged marriage!gojo x fem!reader status: completed(?) author: @nezuscribe plot: gojo satoru, the most sought-after bachelor, enters into an arranged marriage with you. what starts as a contractual obligation evolves into a genuine relationship, filled with challenges and unexpected emotions.
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defiance.
pairing: king!sukuna x servant!reader status: completed author: @yenayaps plot: in a kingdom where power is absolute, king sukuna’s life is upended when a psychic predicts he will meet his soulmate, a servant who will replace all his concubines. as fate intertwines, he finds himself drawn to you, challenging his beliefs and desires.
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controller.
pairing: ceo’s son sukuna x assistant!reader status: completed author: @yenayaps plot: sukuna, the ceo’s son, is used to getting what he wants. when you become his assistant, sparks fly as professional boundaries blur, leading to a complex and passionate relationship.
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hesitance.
pairing: gym owner!sukuna x employee!reader status: completed author: @yenayaps plot: working at a gym owned by the intimidating sukuna, you navigate the challenges of your job and the undeniable chemistry between you two, leading to unexpected developments.
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way out there.
pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x city girl!reader status: ongoing author: @lily-bisque plot: a city girl finds herself in the wilderness, working alongside the rugged lumberjack sukuna. their contrasting lifestyles lead to clashes and chemistry, testing their adaptability and feelings.
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silver fox.
pairing: sugardaddy!gojo x fem!reader status: ongoing author: @lily-bisque plot: a series of oneshots—contains smut, fluff, angst, etc. meeting a lonely yet absurdly handsome man on a dating app, who was far too old for you, was not in your cards when you first set up your profile. but now that he’s wiring you exceptional amounts of cash multiple times a conversation and charming you with his signature grin, you’re having a hard time not enjoying yourself, or even allowing yourself to fall.
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doin’ time.
pairing: childhood neighbor! toji x fem!reader status: one-shot author: @lily-bisque plot: stuck in the amalfi coast after your arrogant boss abandons you, you run into your charming but mischievous childhood neighbor, and sparks fly under the sun-kissed shores.
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baby you’re a star.
pairing: pornstar!gojo x fem!reader status: ongoing author: @madamechrissy plot: a behind-the-scenes look into the adult film industry, focusing on the relationship between gojo satoru, a charismatic pornstar, and you, a newcomer navigating the complexities of the industry.
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just friends?!
pairing: nerd!gojo x popular!reader status: ongoing author: @madamechrissy plot: gojo, the nerdy genius, and you, the popular student, form an unlikely friendship that challenges social norms and leads to deeper connections.
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nowhere to run.
pairing: boss!sukuna x assistant!reader status: one-shot author: @madamechrissy plot: a tense and passionate encounter between sukuna, your demanding boss, and you, his capable assistant, unfolds in this intense one-shot.
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well, are you mine?
pairing: brother’s best friend!sukuna x reader status: one-shot author: @madamechrissy plot: the forbidden allure of your brother’s best friend, sukuna, leads to a steamy one-shot that explores hidden desires and the thrill of secrecy.
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buzz beater.
pairing: nba!gojo x manager!reader status: completed author: @silentscrying plot: as the manager of a professional basketball team, you navigate the challenges of your role while dealing with the charismatic and unpredictable gojo satoru, leading to unexpected romantic developments.
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out of my mind.
pairing: guitarist!ino x drummer!reader status: completed author: @silentscrying plot: in a band filled with tension and chemistry, the relationship between the guitarist and drummer evolves, filled with passion and music.
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sweet tooth.
pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (university au) status: ongoing author: @sukunahs plot: a university setting where sukuna, known for his sweet tooth, and you, a fellow student, navigate their relationship amidst academic pressures and personal desires.
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to distant lands.
pairing: knight!sukuna x princess!reader status: ongoing author: @sukunahs plot: in a medieval fantasy world, a knight and a princess’s forbidden love story unfolds, filled with adventure, duty, and passion.
- what you know.
pairing: sukuna x fem!reader (college au) status: ongoing author: @starmapz plot: a college setting where sukuna and you, both students, navigate the complexities of university life, relationships, and personal growth.
- shame on me.
pairing: gojo x vessel!reader status: completed author: @starmapz plot: a dark and intense narrative exploring the bond between gojo and you, a vessel with a mysterious past, filled with angst and desire.
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in your web of lies.
pairing: spiderman!gojo x fem!reader status: completed author: @butterflytint plot: where gojo leads a double life and you uncover the truth behind his mask.
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laplace’s demon.
pairing: nerd!gojo x mean girl!reader status: one-shot author: @sweethearticism plot: where nerdy gojo’s unexpected chemistry with a popular, mean girl leads to surprising and funny romantic moment.
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the man in the apartment 381
pairing: neighbor!toji x fem!reader status: completed author: @lemonlover1110 plot: living next door to the enigmatic toji sparks curiosity and desire, and a steamy one-shot develops as the neighborly attraction grows.
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brat.
pairing: producer!geto x popstar!reader status: ongoing author: @kunareads plot: a popstar struggling with fame finds herself challenged and teased by her producer geto, leading to a messy, passionate, and complicated romance.
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tamed.
pairing: tiger hybrid!sukuna x zookeeper!reader status: ongoing author: @bluukive plot: a fantasy AU where you, a dedicated zookeeper, encounter a tiger hybrid sukuna, leading to a slow-burn romance filled with tension, danger, and undeniable attraction.
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toodymcdoody · 11 days ago
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“Have you ever seen a child drift into sleep, his tiny body trembling, clutching his pain instead of a blanket?
Have you ever tried to serve a meal made of patience because there was no food to place on the table?
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toodymcdoody · 12 days ago
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I PULLED XAVIERS SUMMER CARD! my next pull WILL be rafayels!!
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toodymcdoody · 13 days ago
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You know what I think about when I see Toji’s wife (Meg’s mom)?
She’s a crackhead. She’s gotta be. I just know in my bones, she’s the most chaotic, funny, borderline unstable/insane woman who keeps Toji on his toes because I just can’t see him falling for a calm, soft doe eyed lady. He’s too crazy for someone like that and if he wanted someone like that, he’d probably let the clan set him up with someone. No, Toji- he needs someone to out-crazy him, and that was miss Fushiguro.
And you know what I also think? I think Toji would let his wife beat him up a bit. Not in the sense “she’s a wife beater and Toji lets her walk all over him”, more in the sense of “I’m literally the strongest and this five-foot nothing thinks she can punch me just because I was late for dinner, it’s actually adorable to see that she thinks she can do me or my concrete-hard abs any damage”.
I feel like miss Fushiguro has pulled a knife on him several times, after marriage especially, and since I know Toji is gonna continue to rage bait her, he may also gotten stabbed (non fatally) a few times. After which, HE has to be the one to apologise ofc, for making her do this.
And just- look the outcome of two chaotically insane people reproducing is that the crazy cancels out, and Megumi is born!
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toodymcdoody · 14 days ago
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Oblivious boyfriend Caleb !
[Part 1] [Part 2]
wc: 2.6k
a/n: sorry i had to make caleb suffer. he's also still kinda stupid, so read at ur own risk!! i kinda made myself sad so i'm gonna start working on fluff/smut.
pairing: non-MC!reader x caleb
content: self-indulgent, angst, emotional neglect, quiet breakup, fem!reader, avoidant!reader, i had to make caleb ooc, he's a basketball player, college au, hurt/no comfort, lots of caleb just spiraling and rotting in his own guilt
p.s this one isn't as bad.
——
Caleb didn't know.
You never yelled at him, never really told him what was wrong. You just shut down, then pretended everything was fine again. And when he pushed, you deflected.
He never meant to hurt you, he was just careless in a way he didn't understand. He saw it now.
It was too late, but he saw it.
He kept checking his phone. Kept biting the inside of his cheek and bouncing his leg every time he was met with an empty screen.
"She's not gonna text you."
Caleb glanced up at his teammate, shame creeping up his throat.
"I know."
It'd been a week since the breakup. But he kept checking his phone for new text messages. Kept staring at it in the morning, waiting for a good morning text that never came.
It was dumb.
The way he was always looking for you—in every crowd, in every coffee shop, in every library.
The past week had felt like a month. A month of torture—of replaying every interaction he ever had with you and finding his fault in every one.
"You gonna be good for the game next week?"
Caleb's eyes hardened just a fraction. "Why wouldn't I be?"
His friend stared at him, a little too knowingly. They both knew what he wanted to say. 'Because your girlfriend broke up with you, duh!' but his teammate just pressed his lips into a thin line and shrugged.
"You.. I dunno—You just haven't been that focused lately."
Caleb sighed, tearing his eyes away and tossing his phone in his bag. He wasn't even supposed to have it out; if his coach saw, he'd be running lines.
"I'll be fine," Caleb insisted, shuffling back onto the court as if that might give him some peace, but his teammate just followed him.
"Look, if you ever wanna talk—"
"I'm fine," Caleb bit out. "I'll—I'll be fine, alright?"
Silence. Then finally, his teammate sighed and shrugged.
"Alright."
But Caleb wasn't fine.
He was anything but.
At night, he'd lie in bed, his eyes burning from how long he stared at your guys' last texts. In the morning, with his eyes all red and puff from the night before, he'd rummage through his drawer to find something to wear and pause the Hello Kitty pajamas he'd bought for you two.
He'd stare at it too long—enough to feel his stomach curl and his chest tighten—then he'd stuff it to the back of his drawer. It always found its way back up when he looked through it the next day though.
The morning of his game, he found them again. Held it for a little too long. Rubbed his thumb over the fabric as he remembered the last time he wore them on a comfy night in with you.
Maybe that's why he missed the first shot. And the second. And the third.
Maybe that's why he kept looking in the crowd like he might find you there, in that little corner you loved so much. He always said it was hard to see you up there and you always said you got a better view of the game. Of him.
He'd smiled then. Never complained about it again, because how could he when your eyes were all soft like that?
"Caleb! What the hell?"
Caleb stumbled as his teammate nudged his arm. It was meant to be a light push, but he was caught off guard.
"What?" Caleb breathed out, but he knew. He didn't have to look at his teammate or even listen.
He was fucking up.
He was losing them the game. Like he lost you. Like he—
"What the hell are you doing? You said you'd be fine."
"I am," Caleb insisted, even as his eyes flicked to the stands again.
Fuck. Stop it.
They quickly darted back, but his teammate had already caught the look. Everyone knew what this was about.
His teammate looked like he was about to say something else before the whistle blew. Their heads snapped toward the bench where their coach was gesturing them over.
The minute Caleb got close enough, his coach immediately grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him onto the chair.
"Coach—"
"Are you kidding me?"
Caleb flinched. His tone stung more than he wanted to admit. Normally, he didn't care about things like this, but he was raw and exposed. And when Caleb met his eyes and saw the anger and disappointment, he couldn't bear to look anymore.
Shame.
That was all he felt.
Shame, shame, shame.
Shame for missing those shots. Shame for forcing his coach call a time out. Shame for not realizing he was losing you. Everything came back to you.
"How the hell are you missing those shots, Caleb? We need you and you think now is the best time to start half-assing..."
His voice trailed off. Or rather, Caleb wasn't listening anymore. He couldn't. Everything around him grew muffled. Fuzzy. Distant. It was just him and his thoughts.
He kept messing up.
He should've known. He should've seen when you were upset—he did—but you never told him what was wrong. You always brushed him off, why didn't you just—
No. It was his fault. He should've known. He should've—
"Sit the rest of the game out."
Caleb blinked, finally looking up. "What? No, I'm—"
"Hey, you, you're in."
Caleb's chest stung. But he didn't argue. Instead, he sat back, the chair creaking under his weight as he watched someone take his spot.
He was losing it.
Basketball used to make sense. It used to be his. Now he couldn't think straight. Couldn't find it in him to make the shots he was always valued for.
He watched the rest of the game in silence. Didn't cheer. Didn't speak. Not even in the huddles when his coach was glaring at him like the look alone might force some encouraging words out of him. He gave nothing.
He was too tired.
After the game, when MC approached him, he barely said a word—just followed her out the gym to walk her to her dorm. Usually, he would've been with you—his sweaty arm draped over your shoulder, you giggling softly when he ranted about his favorite plays or how nice you looked up there.
"That was..." MC thought for a second, then bluntly ended with, "bad."
Caleb scoffed. "Yeah. Pretty bad."
A beat of silence.
"You kept looking at the stands."
Caleb's jaw tensed, his grip on his duffel bag tightening. It was a reflex. He was used to finding you there.
"She's not there, Caleb."
Hoarsely, it came out, "I know." Even if he didn't act like it. Even if he still checked his phone or looked up at the stands, he knew.
"You miss her."
"..Yeah."
"So what happened?"
Caleb sighed. "Don't."
MC ignored him. "Why did you push her away?"
"I didn't—" Caleb bit back his exasperation. "I didn't mean to. I never meant to."
He swallowed hard. He could feel MC looking at him, waiting for some sort of explanation he wasn't sure he was ready to give because what the hell did he say besides, 'I fucked up'?
"I just—She was quiet. She got hurt, never talked to me about it, then pretended it never happened."
"So you're blaming it on her?"
Caleb's head snapped toward her, guilt burning in his veins. "No! That's not what I'm saying! I'm saying I didn't know."
He took a small breath, his voice softening. "I didn't know how much she was hurting."
Another quiet breath.
"I didn't mean to hurt her."
"But you did."
Caleb's throat tightened. "What are you doing?" he asked, his steps slowing to a halt. "Do you think I don't feel bad? That I don't know?"
MC stopped beside him, her eyes softening at the telltale tick in his jaw. "You know I love you, Caleb, but you were shitty."
He felt sick.
"I know that," he murmured.
"You treated her like a second thought."
Caleb felt a lump forming in his throat now. He could defend himself. Say he didn't mean to treat you like that, but at the end of the day, he did. So, he kept his mouth shut and let her continue.
"You know how embarrassing that is for a girl?"
Caleb let out a shaky breath. "MC—"
"People don't get this."
He blinked. "What?"
"They don't get our friendship. They don't understand that when you pat my head or grab my waist, it doesn't mean anything."
Caleb couldn't speak. He was too embarrassed.
He never thought it could look like flirting. With anyone else, sure, it would've been flirting. But with MC? It meant nothing. She was like a sister to him.
But you thought he—God, he was horrible.
"You mean well. I know you do, but you hurt her." A beat. Then, "So stop looking for her."
Caleb didn't say anything. He just stared, his throat a little too tight and his eyes a little too glassy to see right.
MC sighed, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug. "I'm sorry. Goodnight, Caleb."
"..Night."
-
Caleb tried to stop looking for you. Maybe it would be better that way. For both you and him.
And that day, he really did. He kept his eyes down, fought the urge to whip his head the other way when he thought he saw someone who had your hair.
But then he actually saw you. It wasn't a figment of his imagination—no, you were there, walking down the sidewalk with a friend right in front of him.
He wanted to apologize. Blurt out whatever sad little story came out the second he got close enough.
But he didn't.
He didn't deserve that.
So he clutched his bag tighter and tensed his jaw to keep his mouth shut.
You wore a hoodie (not his, he noted), and your hair was pulled up in that hairstyle you did when you were too lazy to do it in the morning.
You looked pretty.
Too pretty.
And looking completely content as you laughed at something your friend said.
Then your eyes met his as you walked past, and it wrecked whatever illusion of composure he had left.
Because your smile didn't drop instantly. It was more of a natural stop, like the moment of laughter was over. Not because his presence did anything to you. No, like you just... didn't care.
Like he wasn't someone you shared a bed with or went on dates with. Like he wasn't the boy you told everything to at one point.
You looked at him as if he were a complete stranger, and finally, it hit him.
Really hit him.
He didn't lose you when you broke up. He'd lost you way before then. He was just too blind to see it.
Caleb had no right to feel hurt. No right at all, but it didn't stop the burn. The ache. If anything, it intensified it.
-
That night he stayed up until 2 a.m., drafting a text message to you. He wasn't even sure if he'd been blocked or not. He tried not to think about it too much.
Caleb reread it to himself over and over again, his finger hovering over the send button multiple times, but he couldn't do it.
He could hear MC now. "You cared too late."
It made his chest ache and his eyes sting.
He could hear you, too, crying on the phone with him that night, murmuring that quiet, "I'm tired."
God, he remembered too much.
The flashing lights, the crowd pressing in, the bass vibrating in his chest.
You, standing near the drink table, twisting the hem of your shirt. He thought you looked bored. He didn’t realize you were overwhelmed.
He should’ve known when you stopped reaching for his hand.
He tried. Even when everyone was joking and playing a shitty game of beer pong, he glanced over at you, tried deciphering whatever messages you were or weren't sending him.
He was stupid.
They were all right there.
Caleb had managed to slip away from the crowd and sit down beside you, carefully, as if you were some spooked animal.
"Hey.. You okay?"
You nodded, but you wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "I'm fine," you told him over the music, but your voice barely reached his ears.
He leaned in again, about to ask something else when his teammate grabbed him by his arm and started pulling him toward the beer pong, claiming it was his turn to play.
"Wait—Y/N is—"
"She'll be fine! Just one quick game!"
Caleb glanced over at you one last time. Even if he stayed, would you have told him what was wrong? His stomach curled. No, probably not, which is why he gave in with a grudging, "Just one game."
And when he came to check in later, he said, "Hey, you wanna get out of here?"
You'd smiled and said no.
Now, looking back, that smile felt rehearsed.
He should’ve known it was your way of saying please don’t make me spell this out for you.
He should’ve tried harder.
Fuck.
And then you left.
After that group picture—that was the last time he saw you. Caleb didn't notice it then, but he did now, and he felt it—the way you slipped away from him. Quick. A little too quick. Like you couldn't stand to be near him.
He looked around. He thought he spotted the top of your head as you nudged the crowd, but he didn't get a chance to go after you because his friends were fussing about how bad the picture was.
About how they needed another one.
Caleb swallowed hard. "Y/N isn't here—"
Flash!
Caleb blinked. He barely had time to speak again before his friends were nudging him.
"Dude! Smile!"
So he did. And when the picture was done with, he looked for you. But he couldn't find you. You weren't by the drinks. You weren't by the couch. You weren't in the bathroom. You weren't in any goddamn room he checked.
But maybe he just kept missing you.
So he texted you and started asking people about you.
No one knew where you were.
And when he checked his messages, he was left on read. Fucking read.
Dread filled his chest, like no matter how hard he tried to deny it, something was incredibly wrong.
But he kept texting you. He had to make sure you were okay, at least.
That's when you went on do not disturb.
It stung.
It made him wonder if you were okay (physically at least). If you were you still at the party. Because you wouldn't try and go home, right? He was your ride.
So, for hours, he spiraled.
He even texted Tara, your dormmate who also wouldn't answer.
Then everything else happened—
You finally responded and he—
You left.
Caleb clenched his jaw, fighting back the lump that crawled up his throat.
He stared at his texts, the letters glaring back at him. It almost felt like they were taunting him, laughing in his face for being so oblivious.
His finger trembled over the send button again.
He missed you. He missed you so much.
He reread his text one last time, trying to look for any typos through the blur of tears he'd fought so hard and failed to keep down.
'I know I was careless. I didn’t mean to make you feel small or forgotten. I don’t deserve another chance, but I wish I could take it all back. You meant more to me than I showed. I'm sorry.'
Caleb took a shaky breath, finally tapping the send with his thumb, and all at once, everything came crumbling down. His throat closed, his stomach tensed, his chest burned.
Not delivered.
He blinked rapidly, trying desperately to keep his everything down.
Maybe the wifi was acting up again.
He waited a second, refreshed his messages, turned his wifi on and off. Still not delivered.
No.
No, you—you didn't.
With a shaky finger, he pressed the call button.
He waited for the usual ring.
But it never came.
Instead, he got: 'The person you are trying to reach is not available.'
You did.
2K notes · View notes
toodymcdoody · 14 days ago
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non!mc being seen by li's best friends
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part i - jeremiah greyson & gideon (romantic)
part ii - luke+kieran & thomas (platonic)
ask (clarification on thomas portion !)
part iii - jealousy (xavier zayne caleb)
part iii v2 (rafayel sylus)
...
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divider - cafekitsune
331 notes · View notes
toodymcdoody · 14 days ago
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imagine li's getting jealous over non!mc reader
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warnings:(unedited) mc is referred to as she/her as well as partner/miss hunter/pipsqueak+meimei while reader is y/n or they/them. be warned that xav + caleb get a little possessive while zayne just sulks.... hopefully i did them justice? i quite like it at least hehe ofc raf + sylus pt coming later this tired me outtt but i hope u enjoy leave thoughts/any ideas i <3 reading thru them maybe it'll help spark more inspo lolol :p
tags: @xylov @asakiyu @xsammijoanneex @noxus123 @cordidy @nm4565natty
(tagging some who showed interest in more parts/asked to be tagged in prior part. pls lmk if you'd like to be add/removed ! :p)
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something was missing.
xavier had felt it recently- like something was slowly slipping through his fingers before he realized he should try to grasp at it to no avail.
it was like a stray thought circling through the back of his mind, orbiting to the forefront every so often when he was by his lonesome, but quickly being shoved to the side in favor of other things (or, people), notably aiding his partner in whatever she might have needed.
that "something missing" would be placed on the backburner, neglected with the intention of returning to it later in order to find out what exactly was nagging at him.
but hours turned to days, and days into weeks before he finally realized what it was.
it happened in one of the training rooms.
xavier and his partner had just finished up for the day, getting ready to change with the lively idea of hotpot with the others floating around. she said she wouldn't take long, scurrying off towards the showers for a quick rinse and change of clothes.
xavier had finished before her, mind wandering as he waited for her to finish when he caught a glimpse of something.
out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a familiar star charm dangling off of a shoulder bag.
snapping out of his little daze, he saw you from a tall window, zipping your bag closed, taking slow steps down the sidewalk. he watched as you glanced at your phone, smiled, and continued on your way, eyes trailing your form as you disappeared further into a small crowd.
something clicked for him at the sight of you.
when was the last time he'd spoken to you?
suddenly curious, he pulled out his phone, finger tapping the messenger app and your contact.
it had been over two months since you'd last messaged him.
that's strange.
he wonders how he didn't notice it sooner.
after all, he had grown somewhat used to your messages, either checking in, telling him to eat well at various meal times, or just sharing something interesting or notable that happened during your day.
looking back at the messages now, he notices something.
you were the one who always initiated the conversations, the one that kept them going. most of his replies were simply sticker reactions or short apologies for seeing the message late.
he hadn't ever replied to the last message you had sent to him.
"have a great day today xavier! maybe if you're free after work, we could get some hotpot together? itll be my treat since you've been working so hard recently!"
his mind starts racing, staring at the message and wondering if he should say something now, anything, when his thoughts are interrupted by a voice.
"hey partner, are you ready to go?"
he feels himself lightly nudged, clicking the power button of his phone off in response before tucking it into his pocket.
"huh?"
"sorry for taking awhile, i was trying to find out how many of us were going!"
"how about inviting y/n?"
the words slip from his lips before he even thinks.
the girl infront of him doesn't flinch.
"actually, its funny you mention them! i caught them as i left the showers, and did mention it, but they told me they had plans already, and said maybe next time."
"when was the last time they accepted one of your invites?"
she takes a moment to think, humming as she tries to recall.
"actually, it feels like its been forever. maybe a month or two? i wonder if they're alright..."
something is wrong.
before he can mull it over too deeply, her voice sounds again as she checks her phone.
"oh, lets get going! we're going to be late for our reservation!"
despite the light laughs and enthusiastic chatter from his partner, xavier is a million miles away that evening.
. . .
xavier decides the best course of action is to trail after you.
its been a couple of days, and he can't quite shake the thought that something must be wrong, something must have happened, and he steels his resolve to find out what it may be.
he couldn't quite place why the thought of you handling something alone bothered him so much, but he felt a sense of duty to be there for you, whatever the case may be.
he finishes his work early as usual, lounging at his desk to send his partner a message to not wait up for him before shutting off his phone and shifting his eyes towards you.
he catches you just leaving, allowing a good distance between the two of you before leaving himself to follow you.
xavier is especially alert down the path that you take to wherever you're headed, focused on any energy fluctuations as he keeps his eye on you, though surprisingly, he finds nothing out of the ordinary.
its only then that he begins to recognize this particular path, but continues after you.
. . .
imagine xavier's surprise as he watches your steps pick up, right towards the entrance to philo. he hears the little bell jingle as you slip through the door.
since when have you been into flowers? were you just picking up a gift for someone? perhaps....
the thought seizes once he sees jeremiah enter his view from the back. he watches as the florist smiles at the sight of you, stepping closer to you and taking your hand in his before pulling it towards him, bending down slightly to plant a soft kiss on the back of it.
xavier feels something dark twist inside of him at the scene, heart suddenly so heavy he fears his chest might burst, especially at the sight of your flustered smile from the gesture.
why were you so lively with jeremiah? were you close? he wonders how you met him in the first place.
he doesn't know why the way you smile at jeremiah irks him, why the pink carnation he offers you makes him scoff, why your pleased reaction makes his heart feel like its being squeezed till it might burst, or why he wishes he could stop jeremiah when he moves to fix a lock of your hair behind your ear.
as much as he would like to barge in and interrupt the two of you, whisking you away to who knows where, the look in your eyes stops him, if just barely.
he hasn't seen your eyes that bright in so long, and he's frustrated at himself for not missing the sight sooner.
too pent up with emotions to think straight and not wanting to watch the scene for another second, he finds himself teleporting to a no-hunt zone.
surely, taking care of some wanderers will help him blow off some steam.
and when he was done, he would come up with a way to approach you properly the next time he saw you.
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doctor zayne li is known for being observant. other than being part of his job, its simply something he picked up from an early age, and a habit he could never shake. naturally, he can tell when something new occurs, or somethings changed.
change especially since, as a man of routine, anything that disrupts that is immediately noticeable to him.
so when you stopped visiting him for lunch, and your overall drop-ins almost suddenly stopping out of nowhere, he noticed.
he noticed, and yet, he didn't say anything.
he didn't message you, he didn't seek you out, he didn't think much of it overall.
but maybe he should have.
perhaps you've grown busier, he reasoned. your job did keep you occupied, and though you messaged him less and less, you usually gave a rundown of your schedule and how work was treating you.
aside from this, a certain miss hunter had seemed to fill in that gap you'd left from the lack of your visits, so he decided to brush it off, to not pay it much mind. he was sure you'd fall back into your normal routine sometime, so he didn't worry.
though, no one could truly fill the gap you'd unknowingly left behind.
you and her were not one in the same, after all.
he recognizes this, and yet...
"zayne?"
he blinks back to the present, eyeing his white rice.
"you spaced out. everything alright up there, doctor?" she teased, a tinge of concern laced between her words.
"everything is fine," zayne answer simply, plucking a clump of rice with his chopsticks before raising it to his lips.
"where were we?"
he munches on the rice, allowing her to rattle on about work, a recent mission, any issues she'd encountered, and he sits there, content with her presence.
and yet, you remain in the crevices of his mind.
. . .
a couple of days later, he receives a message.
"sorry doctor, i wont be able to make it to lunch today T_T dont miss me too much, okay~"
he responds as soon as he sees it.
"dont worry about it. there's always another lunch."
his phone pings again.
"omg... you miss me already, i can tell!"
"dont get ahead of yourself, miss."
he sends a snowman sticker and turns off his phone, returning it to his pocket. since he'll be eating alone, he decides to pick up a few boards from the front to look over in the meantime.
but when he opens the door to his office about to make his way down, he sees an familiar face chatting with yvonne.
you.
his heart skips a beat at the sight, unexpected yet pleasant all the same. your hair is done in a hairstyle he hasn't seen before, and he takes note of a small container wrapped in a cloth within your hold.
had you really come to see him today? maybe he could ask you where you've been, what's been taking up your time...
the thought is interrupted by a cheery voice, causing both you and yvonne's heads to turn towards the source.
"ah, there you are!"
doctor greyson.
zayne's brows furrow at the scene, watching his fellow doctor makes his way towards you, casual, friendly, and the way a smile stretches across your face at the sight of him.
he watches the way you offer the wrapped box to the doctor and feels his heart clench.
what was he meant to be doing again?
whatever it was could wait. right now, zayne wanted to trap himself in his office and occupy his time with checking his patient charts.
. . .
he's just passing by, zayne reasons with himself.
today was a nice day, and given that miss hunter was out on a mission, he decided to get a bit of fresh air before busying himself with more work.
despite this being the idea, he still finds himself reading a research article on protocore syndrome on what's supposed to be a short break.
he would argue it wasn't technically work when you'd jested once about him being a workaholic that even read research on his breaks. you would laugh, telling him how admirable it was the way he spent his time.
the thought of you makes him momentarily pause his reading.
his mind often drifted back towards you these days, it seemed.
he picks up where he left off, just about to round a corner when he hears that familiar laughter.
that airy laughter of yours that would float through the air when he used any of his dry humor lines around you, or made an expression you found particularly amusing as a result of something you had said.
he almost instinctually follows that sound when he hears another familiar voice.
"hey, don't laugh at me!"
"i'm not, its just—"
"you are! it totally wasn't my fault, you know," the male voice huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
"i mean... you were holding food. did you expect the raccoon to ask before taking?"
he groans, burying his face into his hands. your giggles ring out once more.
zayne watches the exchange, taking note of the closeness in which you two are sitting on the bench, the two pairs of chopsticks sticking out from one container settled between the two of you. he notes the way greyson looks at you, his attention completely captured by you, animated and lively, drawing out your amusement easily.
moreover, he notices the way you lean into him slightly, the way your eyes are bright and centered on him like he's the only one in existence, the way your fingers twitch when his hand gets just a little too close to yours, the way your expression is something joyous, open, honest and oh-so lively.
zayne can't recall a time where you wore that same expression when you were with him.
something swirls inside of him, something unpleasant and cold. his chest feels heavy, he feels out of place, and he feels like he's intruding on something sacred.
is this how you felt before?
he can't fathom the thought.
in hopes to escape these feelings, he turns back the way that he came, article rolled up and clutched tightly in one hand, your laughs fading with every step that he takes, the weight on his chest growing heavier and heavier the further he gets from you.
he doesn't know why he feels the way that he does, he only knows that he doesn't like it.
he doesn't like seeing you with greyson.
and as he makes it to his office, clicking open the door before disappearing behind it, only one thought clouds his mind:
perhaps he should have reached out to you first.
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you were avoiding him.
it was the only thing caleb had managed to come up with, and yet, he couldn't find a reason, not really.
he liked to pride himself on his intelligence, on reading people (or maybe it was just his pipsqueak that he was so accustomed to reading, used to every micro expression and microaggression that was thrown at him and pinpointing the cause easily). he'd wracked his brain, going through every possible scenario, and couldn't come up with one possible reason that would warrant you avoiding him.
normally, you would send little texts throughout the day, simple goodmorning's to sleep well's, little pictures from any outings or maybe a new recipe you'd decided to try out.
he'd always make sure to respond, often seeing the images a little later but always at least reacting with his familiar apple stickers.
though, thinking about it now, you messaged less and less these days. he actually wasn't sure off the top of his head when the last time was that you sent him a photo of anything.
huh.
now that he thinks about it, hasn't it been awhile since he's seen you? the last time he can remember wasn't anything too recent, maybe a couple of months ago, but its a haze in his head, distinctly remembering his pipsqueak that night.
wasn't someone else there too?
he shakes his head, deciding not to think to hard.
maybe he would invite you out to eat with him sometime. he knows you like his cooking, and since you're close with them both, surely you'd accept, reconnect, and everything would be better.
. . .
you'd left his message on read.
you never left messages on read.
he remembers once when you offhandedly mentioned that when you do, you feel bad, always at least reacting to the message to make sure the recipient knows you're not deliberately ignoring them and that you did, indeed, see the message.
he reasons that this is what happened.
so instead, he decides to give you a call. that should be simple enough, right?
it rings once.
twice.
three times.
...
voicemail.
he groans.
seriously, what did he do?
maybe you were just busy.
...or maybe something happened to you?
he doesn't want to entertain the thought. hes sure you're fine, you can handle yourself.
...but—
he shakes the thought from his head.
surely, you would've reached out to him.
a pause.
he decides he'll give it till the end of the day.
. . .
later, he's scrolling on moments, having received a notification that his meimei posted something. he comments something teasing, smiling to himself and scrolling to the next post only to freeze.
it was from you.
from just two hours ago.
the same time he tried to call you.
...
caleb would have to take drastic measures.
if you were avoiding him for whatever reason, maybe he would have to pay a visit in order to find out just what it was that he did.
. . .
you're startled from your seat on the sofa by a knock on your door.
you raise a brow, thinking over the possibilities.
you weren't expecting a package for another couple of weeks, you hadn't invited anyone over, and you hadn't placed any delivery orders today (at least not yet, though you had been mulling it over, craving something from that one restaurant that you just didn't quite feel like venturing out to yourself).
you sit up, thinking of any possible person that would be at your door.
when another set of knocks ring out again, you begrudgingly rise from your spot, muttering a "coming," as you walk towards the door.
you neglect peeking through the peephole, figuring whoever it was, you would deal with them relatively quickly.
you swing the door open to reveal the last person you thought might drop by your apartment.
"hey hey, little apple," he all-too casually greets, leaning against the doorframe, a boyish grin taking over his features.
your shock at seeing caleb at your door renders you speechless, and before you can find any words to respond with, he's already pushing his way into your apartment as if he owns the place.
"hmm, not intrudin' on anything, am i?" he asks, walking around the living space before he's peeking around other nearby rooms, almost inspecting them as if he's searching for something.
you shut the door, turning around and trailing towards him, tilting your head at his puppy-like grin.
"caleb wha— why—"
"thought you were in trouble," he shrugs, lifting his hands up and stretching them behind his head, eyes locking on you.
"why else would you not answer my texts?" his voice comes out nonchalant, but his eyes take on a dark look.
shit.
surely he wasn't upset at you for that, was he?
you thought he wouldn't even notice you not texting him anymore, with his attention always elsewhere. as a matter of fact, you figured he'd be grateful your daily messages gradually died out into nothing.
its not like he seemed all that interested in what you had to say, anyway, if his responses were anything to go by.
"i—"
"didn't answer my call either," he says, hands falling to his sides as he takes a step towards you.
"your phone isn't busted, is it, little apple?"
his voice takes on a lower tone, and he takes another step towards you. you instinctively take one back.
"n-no, its just—"
"just what?" another step.
"because if i didn't know any better..."
he's right before you, arms outstretching and hands hitting the wall behind you. he's so close you can feel his warm breath tickling your ear.
"i'd say you were avoidin' me."
you can feel his eyes on you, and you can't help but avert your gaze from his intense stare.
"caleb..."
"so, what is it? what's the problem?"
you huff out a breath.
"you're impossible," you pout.
he chuckles, almost sounding amused.
"yeah? go on."
you sigh.
"i didn't even think you'd notice when i stopped texting" and it seemed like you didn't until just recently you want to add, but bite your tongue. you're honestly surprised he noticed at all.
his brow furrows.
"why wouldn't i?"
"really, caleb?"
his eyes suddenly take on that kicked-puppy look, and you tear your gaze away.
"'m not avoiding you," you mumble, ears hot.
"liar."
"well—!"
your heads both turn at the sound of your phone dinging in your hand.
"so you do receive messages," he teases, eyes trailing towards the lit screen.
"whos it from?"
"does it matter?"
"yeah, it does," he says, tone underlying with finality, his hand moving to pin your wrist to the wall.
"caleb—"
he grasps your other wrist easily when you try to wriggle free, clutching onto your phone tighter.
"let me go—"
"nuh-uh~" he sing-songs. you don't know how he manages to have that look in his eye when his voice holds such a teasing lilt to it.
"caleb, i'm not kidding—"
"yeah? neither am i."
despite his tone, you keep fighting to escape his grasp. you seriously can't think of any reasonable explanation for the way he's acting right now. was he just messing with you? surely he couldn't be that bored. and where was his precious meimei? why would he waste his time here with you when she was likely waiting for him?
your thought is cutoff by another ping from your phone.
caleb's hold tightens as he leans in to peek at the contact.
"hey, still up for tonight? i dont mind picking you up, like usual! /._./"
caleb feels his heart drop at the name he reads.
"ow, caleb, let go—"
in a fruitless effort to keep your privacy, you wriggle your hands again, dropping your phone to the floor and letting it clatter to the carpet below.
caleb's grip loosens but he doesn't completely let go.
"gideon? when did you meet?"
"that little banquet night a couple of months ago, remember?"
something clicks at your words. that hazy night where he was doting on her as per usual...
and you and gideon in the background.
something in him cracks, and he doesn't know why.
"since when were you two close?"
"it doesn't matter."
"it does."
you scoff lightly, looking away from him.
"i dont think it matters who i talk to or make friends with, why are you so concerned?"
"because, you—"
caleb stops himself.
why does he care so much? sure, he was hurt you were avoiding him, but this felt like a stab in the back and he couldn't quite place why.
"because...?"
caleb sighs.
"why were you avoiding me?" he tries again, softer this time, avoiding your eyes.
your eyes widen at the sudden change of attitude.
"its not your fault."
a half-truth.
'its not your fault that i let myself fall for you' was the actual truth, but to hell if you were actually going to tell him that.
you were starting to feel a little bad.
"i really didn't think you'd notice," you add.
something flickers in his eyes for a moment, but you barely catch it. instead, he meets your gaze, sunset eyes all puppy-like.
"i did. i do."
your heart clenches.
curse this man.
"i..." his gaze wavers for a moment before meeting you again.
"don't do that again." he decides on that, hands slipping from yours and pulling back, arms falling to his sides as he finally puts some distance between you two.
he looks like he wants to say something else. you look up at him expectantly, but when he finally opens his mouth, his own phone goes off.
he jumps at the sound but quickly fishes his phone from his pocket and answers.
you only catch half of the conversation.
"hm? oh, nothing much. don't worry about it."
"uh-huh, be there in time for dinner."
"trust your gege, yeah? ill be home soon."
your heart wilts with every word.
he's talking like you're not even here, like you're the one intruding in his space.
by the time he hangs up the phone, your heart is on the floor.
"i've gotta go," he says, making his way towards the door.
"okay," you reply simply.
he reaches for the doorknob, pausing before opening it.
"be safe tonight."
a pause.
"ill kick gideon's ass if somethin' goes wrong."
you breathe out a laugh.
"okay." he can hear the ghost of a grin painting your lips.
"ill see you," he says, opening the door before disappearing behind it.
you take a deep breath, finally feeling like you can breathe properly. you then reach over to retrieve your phone from its place on the carpet, typing out a message.
"actually, do you wanna come over before we go out?"
. . .
caleb has half a mind to turn right around, to demand more answers, to stay with you in your apartment, in your space, surrounded by you.
especially when the thought of gideon and you leaves a bitter taste on his tongue and even worse feeling in his chest.
he wants to, but the familiar call of his pipsqueak comes first. always.
that night at dinner, if she's able to tell that something seems off with him, she decides not to comment on it.
caleb's mind is on another planet, one where he's with you, figuring out what his feelings mean when it comes to the thought of you with his friend.
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a/n: back from the dead bc the writing gods urged me to return to this ( soooo sorry for how long it took me to write another part i didnt realize how much i missed this idea :x ). i have been reminded of my ideas for this... full length fic/s/ is still a desire of mine for this "series" ig we can call it ? but this scenario was on the forefront of my brain so had to write it out... i thought it would be interesting since in other non-mc fics ive seen jealousy from li's but thought it would be different if it was towards their "best" friends :p xavier's part is so unbelievably long n thats bc i started writing smth that kind of lost the plot so im saving that for a future part. so whats there is actually the shortened vers w some tweaking. im afraid the others wont be as long but there will be opportunity to expand on this in the next part i wanna write (that follows this one at least) soooo pls look forward to it :x
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toodymcdoody · 14 days ago
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sometimes you found it hard to talk in a group setting. it was a bit difficult to gauge when you can add in, or when you’re supposed to laugh.
it was particularly hard this one night. Drunk off of one cup of Denki’s “flavored juice”, your cheeks feel warm and fuzzy.
Jirou & Momo are talking at the corner of the table, gossiping about some new pro hero drama. It just so happened to be about a topic you’ve been seeing all over tiktok. Wanting to interject but not be rude you patiently wait for them to have a nice segway in.
“I know right, and I saw that-“
“-oh, have you seen that video on tiktok of the gossip page talking about it?” you say, but wince once you notice neither of them heard you.
“-he said that! I couldn’t believe it!” Jirou finishes.
You glance to the side of you and see your boyfriend, Bakugo Katsuki, staring right back at you.
“I’m really bad at talking to others, huh?”
-
He doesn’t know what came over him. You just looked so deflated but so cute. A small pout, thrown in with the little sad eyes, and how you sounded soft.
He squeezes his hands hard enough to feel his nails dig into his palms, before taking a deep breath.
He grabs your cheeks and pulls your head down to give you a big kiss on your forehead. Pushing you straight back into your seat his eyes are dead set on the two girls.
“Oi, Ponytail! Earphones,” he calls out to them. They turn over and give a slight glare to the moron who interrupted them but relax once they see him jerking his thumb towards you. “She’s got intel on that stupid pro hero gossip you’re spitting about,”
The two quickly bring you into the conversation, and soon you’re all laughing and giggling about how dumb some pro hero’s are in public.
All while you hold Katsuki’s hand under the table, him giving encouraging squeezes when you fall silent at some points.
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toodymcdoody · 14 days ago
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congratulations to the straw hats for adopting their first adult!
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toodymcdoody · 18 days ago
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Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part Two
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Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader
Parts -> Part One | Part Two
Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.
A/N -> I'm sorry it took so long. I have been obsessing over trying to make part two perfect but I don't think I can. It's time I share my baby with you, and I really hope you enjoy it.
Tags -> Angst, fluff :)
Trigger Warnings -> Character death, heavily mentions grief. Some parts are suggestive but there is no smut.
Word Count -> 18.8K (it got kinda crazy)
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Late October
It was cold, dark and gloomy; the weather a perfect pathetic fallacy to the narrative of your life. The freshly disturbed patch of grass failed to convey the significance of who laid underneath it. It was vexing, how the world continued to spin on it’s axis despite the fact that it stopped spinning for you. 
It hurt to think about the events that led to your undoing. The weeks prior to the moment your mother drew her last breath. You were a cracked vase filled with wilting flowers and overflowing regret. Every breath you took consumed more energy than you could spare and yet the world just. Kept. Spinning. 
“I brought you flowers. Yellow tulips, by the way.” The words felt like lead on your tongue. It was one thing to accept your mother was never coming back, it was another to try to act normal about it. “I know you never cared for them, but I didn’t think leaving a pack of cigarettes on your grave was very tasteful.” You bitterly smiled to yourself at the memories of your mom sneaking a cigarette in the backyard when she thought you were asleep. It was a nasty habit you did everything to rid her of. A fruitless attempt to protect her from the inevitable. 
“I’m sorry I haven’t figured out your epitaph yet. It’s just so hard to condense your entire life into a few words. Plus, they charge by the letter, so I’m trying to be really selective.” It felt weird, speaking into empty space, but you read online that it helped with grief, so you tried anyway. 
That was how you approached most things nowadays. Eating, drinking, sleeping, they all seemed meaningless. But, you knew you couldn’t survive on just antagonism and mourning, so you did it anyway. 
“Zayne called again. I know you told me not to hate him and that it wasn’t his fault, but I can’t bring myself to agree.” 
The moment Zayne told you that the heart that could save your mother’s life was going to someone else replayed in your mind like a scratched vinyl stuck on an aggravating note.
“I got so frustrated by his constant calls that I threw my phone into the ocean.” You let out a sad laugh. “Guess that’s the last time I bring anything with me when I’m walking along the coast.” 
You paused for a moment, feeling stupid. But you had so much to say to her, it all just began spilling out.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I might lose the house. I burned through all my paid leave, and the idea of going back to work for Sylus makes me want to put my head through a wood-chipper. I know I have to, but how can I focus on work when I have nothing left to work for?” You tasted the tears before you felt them, the saltiness reminded you of your weekends at the beach with your mom. You did everything to get out of joining her, you hated the beach, but it was her favourite place to be and in a desperate attempt to cling on to whatever was left of her, you forced it to be yours too.
“I’m sorry I never got you that house you dreamed of, or the dog. I’m sure there are lots of dogs in heaven, and at least the dogs there have been screened. With my luck any dog I would’ve gotten you would’ve been evil.” You teetered around the grievance you truly wanted to apologise for. 
“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you before you passed away. I was so sure you would get the transplant. I tried so hard to save for it. I should’ve been with you. If I knew—” The sobs raked through you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat down next to her tombstone, leaning your head against the chiseled rock. 
There were moments when you’d wake up, and in the haze of your muddled mind you’d forget she was dead. But then the ache in your body is deciphered by your mind, and you’re reminded of just how much you’ve lost. Maybe that’s why they called it mourning. Grief dawned on you like the rising sun.
Life had a way of being entirely unfair, and there was nowhere to hide from fate’s piercing claws. And as if to ensure you hadn’t forgotten just how cruel life could be, your head whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find the last person you wanted to see.
Sylus was dressed in a long black coat hanging effortlessly off of his broad shoulders, a black dress shirt that really should’ve been buttoned up to the top, and a pair of black slacks that made his long legs look impossibly longer. He looked every bit the cunning grim reaper, and it wasn’t just because he was surrounded by graves.
“I didn’t know you were back in the N109 Zone.” The words came out harsher than you intended as your head returned to it’s position against the rock. 
Sylus stopped in front of you, lowering himself to his haunches so that you would be face-to-face. It stung to look at him, so you focused on picking at the grass instead. 
“I only got back a few hours ago. I heard about your mother. I’m sorry.” Having been deprived of his voice for over a month, you cursed the butterflies that coursed through you like muscle memory. Part of you wished he’d returned disfigured, but you knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Ugly or devastatingly beautiful, the storm that was Sylus could not be stopped, only weathered. 
“Sorry that she died or sorry that you weren’t there?” The bitterness in your tone was unfamiliar to you. Even though you knew it was unfair of you to expect him to have stayed, he left immediately after he dropped you off at the hospital and you hoped he’d have been there just a little longer. It didn’t help that you didn’t hear from him until two weeks later, and by then you were too engrossed in your battle against Akso hospital’s medical board to respond. 
“You haven’t been answering my calls; they’re not even going through anymore. You haven’t blocked me, have you?” Sylus countered your question with one of his own. If you cared enough, you might’ve called him out on his diversion. 
“No, my phone broke.” That was an understatement if there ever was one. 
“How long ago?”
“A week.” That much was true and since you couldn’t afford a smart phone, a shitty $30 flip phone weighed down your pocket. 
“And all the times I called before then?” Sylus’s eyes perused you with intensity, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. You weren’t dressed well, in a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you and a matching hoodie. Grieving people were allowed to dress terribly without judgement, Y/N. It’s okay.
“I didn’t feel like picking up.” The grass continued to bare the brunt of your nerves as you answered. The you that wasn’t effectively an orphan would’ve made up some excuse to protect his feelings, but you were resolved to change that. Your mother was strong, independent, and she never backed down from a fight. Not against men like Sylus, and not against her illness. If you wanted to honour her memory then you had to live your life the way she’d want you to.
“Do you have a phone now?” 
You reached into the pocket of your sweatpants to take out the grey flip phone. You watched as Sylus bit back a laugh.
“I’ll get you a new one.”
“I don’t need you to get me anything.” You quickly retorted.
“You’re going to need a phone from this century if you’re working for me, Y/N.” He said it so casually, as if you were put on this earth solely to serve him as his accountant. 
“Right, about that…” Your determination to be confident and unapologetic began to dwindle as you wondered how to tell Sylus you needed more time.
“No. Resigning is not an option.” Twelve minutes. It took Sylus twelve minutes to return to his usual controlling self. You were impressed, truly, it was a new record after all. 
“We don’t have a blood pact, Sylus. I can resign if I want to. Besides, that’s not what I was going to say. I need more time off.” You didn’t sound very convincing, but it wasn’t like you could change who you were overnight. It would take a lifetime to unlearn your bad habits. 
Sylus looked conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say. When he chose to finally open his mouth, you wished he hadn’t.
“I’ve given you a month, Y/N. That’s enough.” His statement came out so matter-of-factly, you wondered if you had imagined it. A month was not nearly enough to recover from losing your mom, but you figured a man who killed people for a living wouldn’t understand. 
“It’s only been two weeks since she died. And I’m sure the temp you’ve got is perfectly competent.”
“The temp doesn’t know the company like you do and I haven’t bothered teaching him on the premise that you were returning. If you’re not back soon I can’t promise you’ll have a job to come back to.” 
The tension in the air dissipated as you began to laugh. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Hysterically. 
“You— You seriously think I care whether or not I have a job? I can barely will myself to eat right now—employment is not my priority.” You wiped back the tears that began to spill out. Their origin unknown, between your hysteria and sorrow, your eyes were constantly puffy.
“People die all the time, sweetheart. It’s no reason to throw your future away.” Sylus stood up straight at the end of his statement, holding his hand out to you. 
The angel on your shoulder whispered that in his own peculiar way, this was his attempt at comforting you. But you stopped listening to that angel when they buried your mom under six-feet of dirt, and you couldn’t help the word vomit that escaped you like water barrelling out of a splintered dam. 
You pushed away his hand, and stood up to look at him with a ferocity you didn’t know you possessed.
“I get that something really dark and twisted must have happened in your youth to make you so heartless, but most people have shitty childhoods, sweetheart. We choose not to be terrible, insufferable people because of it.” The unbridled rage you’d spend so long trying to suppress seeped out of you uncontrollably as you screamed at Sylus. You walked toward him, your anger taking hold of you as you began to push him away. A few months ago you would’ve given anything to touch him, now all you cared about was making him feel a semblance of the pain he instilled in you. 
“Some of us choose to feel our emotions in their entirety, regardless of how much it hurts, because we’re not scared to love and lose. You’re a coward, Sylus and you may think that my mother dying is just an inevitable consequence of life, but my world will never be the same.” In an attempt to calm down, you took a deep breath.
“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.” The word vomit continued, and when you saw the hurt flash briefly within his eyes, you felt the arms of regret begin to sink their claws into you. 
You shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t you.
But before you could take it all back, Sylus’s phone began ringing and you figured from the urgency in which he answered it must’ve been her. 
“I lost track of time, I’ll be right there.” He spoke in a low voice in what you could only assume was an attempt to mask the fact that he was leaving you for something more important, again. 
He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.
“Just go.” You waved him off and turned back around to face your mother’s grave, though now the tears welling up in your eyes couldn’t be entirely attributed to the grief. 
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Early November
You weren’t sure time could heal the gaping wound your mother’s passing left behind, but grief had settled into your life like an imposing aunt. It was in your home, touching your things, ruining your food, and never once leaving you alone. It didn’t feel so all-consuming anymore, but it clung onto you constantly like a shadow. 
You were watching the third Harry Potter movie at 8am when you received the eviction notice via Email. You’d been expecting it, ultimately you were behind on rent, but the reason plastered on the paper was exponentially worse than your own incompetence.
…Selling to developers…suburban expansion project…
As if losing your childhood home wasn’t bad enough, they were planning on destroying it. Memories were bound to decay with time, that was an inevitable consequence of being human. Sooner or later you’d forget the way your mom dressed, or the smell of her perfume. Tangible things like photographs, places, they kept those memories anchored. You couldn’t lose the house, it wasn’t an option. 
You spent the next hour trying to reason with your landlord over the phone, but he was committed to selling. He rejected every single one of your proposals, though even you knew they were weak at best. The developers were offering significantly more than market value, there was no way you could beat that. Stupid gentrification. But, your landlord told you he was sympathetic, and the deal hadn’t been finalised just yet. If you could match the developer’s offer by the end of the month, he’d gladly sell it to you instead.
Of course the developer’s offer was $800,000, and by the looks of your financials, you were about $796,312 short. 
Desperate for a catharsis for your unending frustration, you screamed into the throw pillow on your couch until your throat felt raw. Then, you opened up your laptop to figure out a plan. 
30 minutes later you had:
Sell your kidney to an organ broker and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score. 
Dabble briefly in prostitution and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.
Become a squatter and protest the demolition of your home environmental-activist style. 
“Wow, Y/N. Graduated top of your class and this was all you could come up with, huh?” You muttered to yourself as you stared at the list of terrible ideas. Your mind hadn’t come up with something so horrific since the bed-in-breakfast Mother’s Day fiasco when you were 11. 
The only option that didn’t end in bodily harm or a prison sentence was to work as many jobs as humanly possible for the next few weeks in hopes you could somehow manage to accumulate the deposit for a loan. You could probably sell some appliances too, and maybe revisit the kidney idea if it came to it. 
Despite it being a long-shot, you had to try. You changed into a pair of flared leggings and a sweater. It was basic and borderline mismatched but traversing your explosive closet was a large undertaking you tended to avoid. You dug a copy of your old resume out from your file drawer, after all, it wasn’t like your experience as Onychinus’s accountant was going to do you any good. Further, listing Sylus as a reference would ensure you never got a job again. 
You figured the easiest place to start was the central district of the N109 zone, bars and restaurants there were constantly hiring and from what you’d heard their only requirement was that you had two functioning legs and arms. But when you tried to leave through the door to begin the job search you collided with a formidable wall. 
Since when was there a—
“Where you headed to, Y/N?” The familiar voice was so surprising it made you jump, the action accompanied by a shrill scream.
“What the fuck? Why are you just standing outside my door?” You rarely ever swore and you were sure that if your mother was still alive she’d throw her shoe at you for using the devil’s language. But of all the things you expected to see that morning, Sylus outside your door was not one of them. 
“Is that any way to welcome your old employer?” Sylus stepped into your home without an invitation. Conclusive proof against your theory that he was secretly a vampire. 
“What are you doing here?” You asked again, still staring at Sylus like he sprouted a second head. You couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d show up at your place of residence, he never did while you were still his employee.
“I need you to come back.” You choked back a laugh at his ridiculous request. Was he insane?
“Go to hell.” Your vicious response didn’t sway Sylus. 
“I’ve fired an accountant every week since you left. The accounts are in complete disarray, half my businesses are behind on their bills, the other half have been paying the wrong amounts to the wrong companies. My investors are unhappy, my debtors are one week away from assuming I’ve gone bankrupt and I haven’t slept in weeks. Come. Back.” While it stroked your ego to hear that the organisation was suffering in your absence, you couldn’t just forget the terrible way he’d treated you in and out of the workplace. 
“You insisted I was especially replaceable and now you’re saying you can’t replace me?” You chose to remind him of just how horrid of an employer he was, an action he didn’t appreciate. 
“If you’re going to dwell on the semantics I’d rather just cut to the chase. What’s it going to take to get you back?” Sylus’s tone suggested he was truly trying to negotiate with you. Of course a man like him didn’t know how to take no for an answer. 
“Pigs to fly.” You quipped, opening your door in hopes he’d get the hint and leave. 
“Y/N, I’m serious. We can’t survive without you.” His desperation went straight to your head, but you stood your ground. 
“Then die.” You tried to shove him out of your doorway, but he was about as easy to move as a truck. 
“Everyone has something they desire, sweetheart. Name your price.” While you were ready to fire up a quick retort, his suggestion reminded you of the very reason you were about to leave the house. 
Perhaps this was a sign; you could swallow your pride if it meant you got to keep your home. 
You pretended to give it thought, sighing loudly in contemplation. “Fine. I want a sign-on bonus. Or in this case, a re-sign-on bonus, I guess…” You trailed off, unsure if he would agree. 
“Alright, how much?” He was quick to accept your terms, and you decided to test the waters of just how desperate he was for your return. 
“A million dollars.” 
“Done.” 
Dammit, you should’ve asked for more. 
“I want a personal driver too, I’m sick of biking to work.” You would’ve been okay with just the bonus, after all, it was insanely generous. But you’d be a fool not to milk this opportunity for what it was worth.
“Anything else, princess?” The condescending nickname only added fuel to the fire as you fired off more requests. 
“I don’t want to share my office with the twins anymore, they’re loud and annoying and they have no respect for the sanctity of my monthly budgets.”
“Okay.”
You masked your shock at his sudden magnanimity. “One last thing. Since you’ve come to the realisation that I am, in fact, a valuable asset to your organisation, you’re not allowed to be a dick to me anymore.” 
“Elaborate.”
“No more calling me stupid or other degrading insults, threatening my job security, threatening my life — just no more threats in general — and if you’re going to assign me extra work that is beyond the scope of my job description, a please and thank you would be nice.”
“You’re pushing it, Y/N.” Of course treating his employees like human beings was the most difficult request. 
“You just agreed to give me a million dollars and being nice to me is where you draw the line?” 
Sylus sighed, deliberating in silence for a moment. When he saw that your resolve was unrelenting, he begrudgingly agreed. He wasn’t sure where your newfound confidence was coming from, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it the slightest bit attractive. 
“Alright, you’ve made your case. I’ll agree to your conditions. Now, please fix it.” 
It took every fibre of your being not to break out into song and dance at your victory. “Let me get my coat.”
______________
You stared at the horrific mess your beautiful spreadsheet had turned in to. This was a disaster. A colossal, unfathomable disaster. “How could you let it get this bad?” Your voice was dripping with fear, it was like staring a train wreck. 
“It wasn’t like it happened on purpose. Besides, if you’d never—” Sylus interrupted his own sentence which you were sure contained an insult, and you could almost hear the evil chuckle resounding in your head at the sight of his obedience. This was going to be fun. 
“This is going to take forever to fix.” It would actually only take the day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.
“I need it fixed by the end of the week. Please.” He looked pained as he added the nicety. Soooooo much fun.
“Add on a massage chair for my office and I’ll get it done by Wednesday.” You wondered just how far you could push his desperation. 
“Deal.” He held his hand out for you to shake and when you did, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Now you could tell people ‘How to Tame Your Dragon’ was loosely based on your life. 
“You know, Sylus, I’m liking this new dynamic.” Your shit-eating grin couldn’t be wiped off of your face no matter how hard you tried.
“Oh I can tell. Now, get to work.” Sylus made a show of pulling out your office chair for you, and when you sat in it for the first time in two months, you felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. And for once, the recollection of your past didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.  
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Mid-November
This time around, your employment under Sylus was much more pleasant. Surprisingly, he’d actually adhered to your conditions. 
The twins were slightly offended that you no longer wanted to share your office with them, but their gratefulness for your return trumped any antagonism they had for you. You were kind of a celebrity in Onychinus’s executive team, their saviour, if you will. 
But, the enjoyment of your newly established status could not be savoured. Undoing months of mistakes was turning out to be positively exhausting. You were an accountant; socially awkward, stuck to her Excel sheets, spent most of her free time indulging in shitty rom-coms. You were not built for briefing CEOs, Chairmen, investors, subsidiaries and of course, debtors, on your commitment to stability via video call.
Sylus insisted it had to be you, even though he usually handled the bureaucratic part of the organisation. Something about him not being able to answer their questions regarding the numbers. You told him you would tell him what to say through an ear piece like a spy movie, but he responded with a resounding no. 
It was more like ‘hell will freeze over before I turn into a glorified puppet, Y/N, blah blah blah’.
Every single one-on-one conference call made you feel like you were getting hives. Not to mention the active effort it took you to refrain from making stupid jokes at every opportunity. When the last one with the representative from Onychinus’s main bank was over, you had officially smoothed over all bad blood between Onychinus and it’s stakeholders.
Giving yourself a moment to recalibrate from the sheer amount of social interaction you had been subjected to, you glared at the shared calendar event. ‘Miss Hunter’s Birthday in 13 days’.
You tried to distract yourself from that familiar sinking feeling in your gut with your work. Sylus never remembered your birthday, but it wasn’t like it mattered. You were his accountant, he was your boss. That was the extent of your relationship, even though you’d both said things to each other that would cause your HR department, if you had one, to self-emulate. But in the chaos of buying your home, going back to work and learning how to navigate life with your unwanted companion; grief, you’d forgotten all about your feelings for Sylus.
They weren’t gone but they were muted, like a voice screaming out to you while your head was underwater. Most of the time they were easy to ignore, but in times like these they were too loud to overlook.
You couldn’t dwell on your self-pity for long because there was a knock at your door. No one ever knocked on your door, people just tended to barge in.
“Come in?” Confusion dripped from your voice. When the door opened to a pair of twins with shameful smiles, you knew they were about to ask you for a favour.
“We… fucked up.” Three words you never wanted to hear coming out of either Luke or Kieran’s mouth.
“What have you done?”
“Long story short. Boss sent us to pick up a gem for Miss Hunter’s birthday. It’s really rare. The man who owns them is this older, heart of gold type old guy who refuses to sell to nefarious people because of his outdated principles. He wouldn’t give it to us, said something about us being part of Onychinus. We knew if boss didn’t get this gem today he’d have our heads displayed on mantels in his office, so we threatened the old man with a gun and then an entire arsenal of security appeared out of thin air and we were blacklisted from the property.” Kieran’s explanation left you astounded. 
The twins had their fair share of asinine mistakes, but this one might have taken the cake. 
“You threatened an old man with a gun…” 
“Yes.” Kieran responded. 
“Over a gem?” You asked in disbelief. 
“A very rare gem!” Luke corrected. 
“Huh. How am I supposed to help?” It was a genuine question, you didn’t really see a way out of this one. 
“Can you go and convince the old man to sell the gem to you?” Kieran’s request made your eyes widen in protest.
“No way! I’ve had my fill of uncomfortable business meetings.” And wasn’t that the truth. If you had to see one more man in a business suit ask you ‘if you even knew what you were talking about’ you might throw your laptop into the first body of water you could find. 
“Please, Y/N. Sylus will kill us. Do you want our deaths to hang over your conscience?” 
Luke’s question was an innocent hyperbole, but at the mention of deaths hanging over your conscience, you were reminded of your mom. Your face dropped, your fingers slowly forgetting what they were supposed to type. Kieran, the more observant twin, elbowed Luke.
“Fuck, Y/N. I’m sorry, I forgot.”
“No, no, it’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, I’m not going to burst into tears.” You weren’t sure that was true quite yet, but fake it till you make it, right? 
“Will you help us? Please. We’ll owe you big time.” The line was clearly rehearsed since they said it in unison, or maybe it was some weird twin telepathy thing. Either way, it freaked you out so much you agreed. 
“Fine, what’s the address?”
_____________
You knocked on the large wooden door of a beautiful home. It was classically designed, a perfect intersection between modernity and the timeless complexity of archaic house designs. It was rare to see homes like these in a society that prided itself on progress. 
When you heard the sound of soft feet shuffling toward the door, you felt the guilt eat at you internally. You were tricking an old man into selling a gem to people he very reasonably did not want to sell to.
“Y/M/N?” 
Did he— why did he call you by your mother’s name?
“That was my mother, I’m her daughter, Y/N.”
“Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think I’d finally lost it. Come in, come in.” 
Your interest had been piqued, and you forgot all about the gem as you entered the old man’s home.
“I must say, I’m surprised you’re here. Did your mother send you?”
You swallowed the lump in your throat. “She passed away just over a month ago.”
“Oh god. I’m so sorry, dear. Are you alright?” The question was filled with so much warmth it made tears well up in your eyes. Your mother never had any friends, and you were estranged from your extended family. You were all alone in your grief, and hearing someone who knew your mom in some capacity ask you if you were alright felt bittersweet.
“Yeah. I’m doing okay. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know her?”
“You don’t know? I figured that was why you were here.” 
Right. The reason you were here, the gem.
“No, I’m actually here entirely coincidentally, I came to acquire a gem.”
“Which gem were you after, dear?” He asked the question as he looked around his living room for something.
“The Painite one.”
He stopped pacing and turned to you with an accusatory stare. “This wouldn’t happen to be related to those two rowdy boys who came by earlier, right?”
“Well…” You couldn’t lie to him. He looked like the old man from ‘Up’, it was entirely unfair. 
“I’m afraid I can’t sell to you. I’m concerned you’ve even gotten yourself wrapped up in such a terrible organisation.” He shook his head, his disappointment evident in his tone. 
“Look, I know what you’ve heard, but most of the rumours you hear about Onychinus don’t have a modicum of truth to them.”
“Then why hasn’t your boss cleared them up?” A great question. 
“In this business its good to have a reputation that instills fear in others. You’ve seen what people do for Protocores and black-market items. Onychinus serves as a… regulatory body of the underworld, the only people they harm are those that harm others.” The practiced speech came from years of listening to Sylus give it to yourself and others. 
“I don’t know dear, I’ve heard some horrific things about their leader, Sylus.” You were probably responsible for a few of those rumours…
“The only horrific thing about him is his sharp tongue. Seriously, he has a way of finding your worst insecurity and then using it to drag you through the dirt.” Recognising the unhelpful tangent, you digressed.
“But when it comes to business, he’s fair and when someone hurts the people he cares about, he’s merciless. He has a good heart, it’s just encased under a very thick layer of stone.” When he didn’t look convinced, you continued. 
“In fact, he wants this gem for a woman. She’s special to him and its her birthday in a few days. She’s a hunter, by the way, she saves lives. So, even if you don’t want to sell to Sylus because he’s probably half demon, you should sell it to her. You know, by proxy.” The argument was a stretch but you couldn’t help your rambling. 
“You are the spitting image of your mother.” 
The comment caught you off-guard.
“You think so?”
“I knew your mother when she was your age. She used to sing live at a bar I frequented with my friends. It was a simpler time, before wanderers attacked. I was head over heels in love with her, and I knew she felt the same way about me. But, she got wrapped up with the wrong guy, a real bad man, and it took finding out she was pregnant with you to break it off with him.” He recounted his past as he continued to search his drawers for something, when he came back to the couch in front of yours, he handed you a photo.
It was of your mother, except she was much younger. She was on a stage performing, a part of her life she never told you about. She looked happy and was glowing with the kind of ethereal beauty that never dwindled with time. He was right, you looked a lot like her. 
“Can I keep this?” You looked up at the man, and he gave you a small nod. 
“Of course. You know, I offered to help her when I found out, said I’d raise the baby as my own, but she told me I was destined for more than she could give me. Said she had to do this on her own. She was stubborn but she loved boundlessly, Y/N, just like you.”
You were confused, this man hadn’t known you for very long, how could he know such a thing? “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what that Sylus man has done to deserve your adoration, but I can tell you love him. And for you to come here on his behalf to convince me to sell him the rarest gem in the world for another woman? You truly do have your mother’s heart.” 
His words sprouted doubt and introspection. Why were you trying so hard to get Sylus such a romantic gift when it was meant for someone else? Were you secretly a masochist?
“If it’s alright with you Y/N, I’d love to get to know you. Your mother was my first love, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to about her.” 
You gave him the sincerest smile you could come up with. “I’d like that. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about her either.”
“As for the gem, I’ll sell it to you but only if you promise to love a man who will go to these lengths for you, not someone else.” 
“I promise.” You’d promise to try, at least. You told the man, who you now knew was Dr Jeffery Hunt the geologist, that you needed to get back to work. You exchanged contact information with a promise to catch up later and trade stories about your mom. 
You left the house with the rarest gem in the world in one hand, and an infinitely more valuable picture of your mother in the other. 
___________
You walked toward your office where Luke and Kieran should have been to find the door slightly ajar. You stopped just outside the door when you heard Sylus’s voice from inside your office.
“You sent Y/N to get the gem? Was the task too difficult for the two of you?” You tried to sympathise with the twins, but it was kind of funny to see Sylus berate someone else for once.
“The owner said he wouldn’t sell to Onychinus—” Kieran’s attempt at an explanation was shot down instantly.
“So you pick some random person off the street and send them in instead. You don’t send the girl the gem is for to go retrieve her own present. You have completely ruined the surprise.”
Wait, what?
“No, it’s fine, we sent Y/N not Miss Hunter.”
“Miss Hun— why would you assume it’s for her?” The question hung in there for an uncomfortable moment, after all you assumed the same thing. 
“Her birthday’s in a few days.” Luke timidly added. 
“How do you know that?” 
“It’s in the shared calendar.”
“Fuck.” 
With your ear plastered shamelessly against the door, you smiled to yourself. He had a bad habit of putting personal events in the shared calendar.
“The gem was for Y/N. Thanks to you imbeciles I have to figure something else out.” 
Why was the gem for you? Was it poisonous? You started down at the velvet box in your hand and wondered if the gem was secretly a teeny tiny bomb. 
“Is it Y/N’s birthday soon too?” Kieran’s question offended you. Your birthday was in March and both he and Luke were at your celebratory birthday dinner last year. 
“No, that’s in March. It’s to celebrate her 3rd year with Onychinus. Although now I’m wondering if your time here has come to an end.” It was kind of sadistic, but it was comforting to know that Sylus threatened other people’s job security over minor inconveniences too. 
“No! Please, we promise we’ll make it up to you.” 
You stopped listening to the conversation as you opened the box in your hand. The gem glistened under the artificial lights as questions fired off in your brain. He wanted to give this gem to you? How did he even remember the day you started at Onychinus? And he knew your birthday?
Before you could search for the answers, the sound of footsteps approaching the door made you panic. You tried fruitlessly to escape the long hallway but Sylus stormed out before you could.
“I um, got that gem for you.” You pretended you weren’t eavesdropping and held the gem out to him, but he pushed it back toward you. 
“Thanks. I was going to have it turned into a necklace, but since the cat’s out of the bag, you can decide what to do with it.” He clearly knew you’d heard everything and gave the twins a pointed glare as they scurried out of your office. 
“It’s really too much. Most employers get their employees a gift card or something.” You tried to hand it back again, but he was unrelenting. 
“I’m not most employers, and you definitely aren’t most employees.” The loaded compliment made you bite back a smile. 
“In that case, a necklace would be nice. I have a photo of my mom when she was my age, she wore a necklace with a similar looking gem. Do you think you could find someone who can copy the design? It would mean a lot. I’d pay for it, of course.” You kept the photo in your wallet now, it quickly became one of your favourites. When you passed the photo to him, he looked at it for far longer than necessary. 
“Consider it done, and your money’s no good with me. Save it for something else.” He paused for a moment, took a photo of the necklace on his phone and returned the photograph. “I see where you get your beauty from.” The comment was so nonchalant and inconsistent with Sylus’s usual dialogue that you were left speechless. Your heart battered against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape and mount itself onto him instead. Traitorous organ. 
You watched him turn around and walk toward his office. The sight of him walking away from you brought back memories of that day in the graveyard and what you’d said to Sylus before he left. 
“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.”
The guilt was eating away at your conscience, and you knew you had to let him know that you didn’t mean what you said. Especially not now. 
“Sylus, wait.” He stopped just as his hand reached the doorknob of his office door and looked up at you expectantly.
You raked your mind for the right thing to say, and Sylus didn’t make a sound as you prolonged the silence. 
“If you died, I’d mourn you.” And you meant it. You maintained eye contact despite the urge to look away from his intense gaze in an attempt to convey your sincerity. 
He shook his head with a slight chuckle in response, and walked into his office wordlessly. 
You figured he hadn’t given what you said a second thought. It was foolish to think you could ever hurt the impenetrable Sylus’s feelings. You weren’t even sure he had feelings. 
But, unbeknownst to you, when Sylus closed the door behind him, he felt himself let out a breath that alleviated a pressure in his chest he didn’t know he’d been carrying. What you’d said to him in the graveyard weighed on him like an uncomfortable tumour. 
Sylus knew you were right, but the idea of no one caring for him never bothered him before, not until you said it. It dawned on him that the only person who’s idea of him actually affected how he thought of himself was yours. 
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Late-November
“Finish up, we have a reservation at six.” At the sound of your boss’s  voice, you looked up from your computer screen. Your eyes were watery from staring at the ledger for hours but you still couldn’t reconcile the $15.70 that was missing. It was driving you insane.
“Was there a meeting I forgot existed?” The calendar looked empty from where it stood on your second monitor. Well, it was empty now that Sylus deleted the shared calendar event for Miss Hunter’s birthday which should’ve been yesterday. 
“No, it’s just us. I’m taking you to dinner. Now hurry up.” You couldn’t help the frown on your face. There was surely an ulterior motive. 
“Taking me to dinner? Are you asking me out on a date?” You were teasing; hell would freeze over before Sylus would ask anyone out on a date. Though, maybe he already had, after all he was busy yesterday…
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re celebrating your third year with Onychinus. As an employer I believe rewarding long-term employees can strengthen their loyalty to the company.” He regurgitated the words like they were toxic. 
“You stole that from the last issue of Forbes magazine. I would know since I was the one who gave you the article.” It was titled ‘Ten foolproof ways to make your employees like you’ and you thought it would be funny to leave it on Sylus’s desk. 
“And I’m responding to your feedback like number 4 on that list suggested. Now, do you want to go to this dinner or should I ask someone else?” 
You quickly scrambled out of your seat, you couldn’t miss out on a chance to see Sylus actively try to be a regular boss. Who could say no to dinner and a show?
“No, no, I’ll go.” You grabbed your bag off of the floor and followed Sylus out of the building. You asked him a series of questions about where you were going, when you’d be back, if you were getting paid for the time you were forced to spend with him, but he answered none of them. 
Sylus was driving for all of 2 minutes before you began to draft an appreciation letter to the inventor of seatbelts in your head. 
“You know, you may be harder to kill than a regular person, but I will die if you crash this car.” Pleading for your life in an expensive sports car was not how you expected to go. 
“It’s a little early in the night for your theatrics, Y/N.” Sylus’s deadpan tone did nothing to soothe your concerns as he turned yet another sharp corner with aggressive speed. 
“It’s also a little early in my life to die.” You unhelpfully added.
“Relax, will you? I’ve never crashed before.” 
Well, there’s a first time for everything. You thought as you tightly gripped the handle of the door. You found yourself suddenly missing the middle-aged man who would grouchily drive you to and from work. At least he drove like he valued his life. 
 _______
When you arrived to the place in one piece you felt severely under dressed. Sylus was wearing his regular attire, a suit without the tie, and you were dressed in linen pants and a turtleneck. Sylus never enforced a business dress code, though in that moment you found yourself wishing he did.
The restaurant was multi-level and sat at the top of a mountain. The exterior screamed affluence and you were sure everyone who dined there was in a different tax-bracket. Sylus reserved a table on the rooftop which unfortunately meant you had to ascend four levels in your mediocre outfit that made you stick out like a sore thumb. 
When you eventually reached your table, you quickly hid in your seat. While it was unrealistic to assume anyone would pay you any attention but your embarrassment was usually irrational. Nor, did it help that Sylus naturally made heads turn wherever he went. He was freakishly tall and unnervingly handsome; next to him anyone struggled to look attractive.
“You’re in a rush. Hungry?” Sylus asked across from you as you buried your face in the menu. You didn’t feel like explaining how being out with him made you feel insecure, so you forewent a response. 
The waiter quickly returned with a bottle of wine. Of course Sylus’s favourite wine was known universally. Why wouldn’t it be? He practically ruled the N109 Zone.
“Thanks, she’ll have a mojito.” Before you could tell the waiter not to bring you your favourite cocktail, he was gone.
“I’m not drinking.” Your protest fell on deaf ears. “Drinking with your boss is like number 1 on the list of things you shouldn’t do if you value your job.”
“You don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me, Y/N. You’ve done that plenty of times sober.” Sylus smirked as he made the dry joke and you held back the urge to step on his foot under the table.
Never mind. You needed a drink pronto.
“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath.
“What was that?”
“Artichokes! I said the artichoke salad looks good.” You could tell Sylus wasn’t convinced, but he dropped the matter anyway. 
“Order whatever you’d like.” 
“There’s no prices on the menu.” You flipped it around every which way but not a single price appeared.
“Sweetheart, the people who can afford to dine here aren’t too concerned with prices. Don’t worry and order what you wish.”
Aw, how sweet. Sylus thought you enquired about the prices because you were concerned about overspending. As if. You knew that man’s financials inside and out, if anything, you wanted to order the most expensive things on the menu. 
“Jeez, my bad Mr One-Percent.” Your joke was not well received.
“Can we have one night without your incessant sarcasm?” The plea sounded genuine, but it was denied. 
“We could, but that’s no fun.”
“I find you painfully unfunny, Y/N.” You smiled to yourself at his blatant lie. Everyone found you funny. 
Before you could think of a retort, Sylus pulled out a large velvet box and slid it toward you on the table.
“What’s this?”
“The necklace.”
You opened it up eagerly and the sight of it brought pure bliss to your heart. It was exactly like the one your mother wore, and it was even more beautiful in person.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Feeling slightly remorseful for your attitude prior to the gift-exchange, you gave him a sheepish smile.
Sylus watched you lift it up to put it on, but quickly interjected. “Allow me.” He stood up, walking toward your seat. Flushed, you clumsily turned around so your back was facing him. You felt goosebumps on your skin when his cold hands bunched your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of wired nerves in their wake.
You took your hair from his hand to hold it up, the mere feeling of your fingers brushing his gave you heart palpitations. The act was way too intimate, and despite how it good it felt to have him so close, your brain knew it was safest to pray it would be over soon.
When Sylus was done he spun you around to face him and shamelessly observed his handiwork. “It looks good.” Your brain short-circuited the moment your eyes met his, so you sat in front of him in complete silence.
The moment was rudely interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.
“Sylus? Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!” You both turned to the source of the voice to see Miss Hunter in a beautiful baby blue gown. As if you didn’t feel bad enough about your choice in attire. You began to smile until you noticed that the arm linked with hers belonged to your mortal enemy. Dr Zayne. 
You got up to greet them, despite your primal urge to push Zayne off the roof, but Sylus beat you to it. “Miss Hunter, always a pleasure.” You tried not to gag at the sight of Sylus being so gentlemanly. It became particularly hard when he kissed the top of her hand. 
“I didn’t know you knew Dr Zayne.” The comment slipped out of Sylus’s tense smile with a twinge of what you thought was hostility. Was he jealous that she was with Dr Zayne? Were you jealous that he was jealous? Are you in a soap opera?
“Oh, he’s a childhood friend andmy doctor! I’m very lucky. How do you know him?” Before you could whisper to Sylus to make up some excuse, he was firing off information about your personal life to the last two people you wanted to discuss your personal life with. 
“He was Y/N’s mother’s doctor.” Everyone went tense, everyone except for Miss Hunter, of course. 
Your eyes followed her as she turned to you, praying she wouldn’t ask about your mother’s health. Instead, she praised your nemesis. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”
You wanted to scream in protest. You wanted to swing a chair into Dr Zayne’s head, and then use the broken scraps to beat him to a pulp. But you opted to force a painful smile instead. 
“He’s definitely something.” You looked right at Zayne, hoping he’d understand the implications of your backhanded compliment.  
“Well, we were just here to celebrate my birthday yesterday, but the hostess said it was all booked out and silly Zayne forgot to make a reservation. We just came up to the rooftop to get some pictures, but you guys should enjoy your dinner!” Miss Hunter’s polite dismissal was the perfect opportunity to end the painfully awkward interaction and move on with your night. 
“Thanks.” You were about to return to your seat when Sylus decided to continue with his commitment to ruining your life.
“You guys should join us, the more the merrier, right Y/N?”
The question you had no idea how to answer only poked at the jar of pent up murderous rage you were trying to suppress. It wasn’t like you were subtle about your hatred for the Doctor, why the hell was Sylus inviting them to stay?
“Right.” You couldn’t have sounded less sincere if you tried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to focus on making it out of this building without a homicide charge.
When Miss Hunter happily agreed, Sylus quickly waved down a waiter and made them transform your two-seater table into a four-seater. Unfortunately for you, the seating arrangements somehow ended up with you next to Zayne and Sylus next to Miss Hunter . 
Zayne could feel the hostility radiating off of you in waves, but he was too scared to do anything about it. 
“Happy birthday, by the way.” You offered Miss Hunter the nicety, since she was really the only innocent person at the table. Your unfounded hatred for her took the back-burner when Zayne was around. 
“Thanks, Y/N. I love your necklace, where did you get it?” Yet another question you didn’t know how to answer. If this was how the entire night was going to be you might as well cut your losses and take your chances with jumping off the roof.
“It’s um, custom made.” You avoided Sylus’s glare. 
“Well it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment. Her sunshine-y attitude could rival yours. 
“Sylus knows the guy who made it, I’m sure he could get one for you too.” You glanced at him only to see him quirk an eyebrow at your response. Was he seriously mad? You were practically the world’s greatest wingwoman. 
When Miss Hunter turned to look at him, he quickly shut her down.  “He retired right after making that piece, actually. Something about getting arthritis.” 
He was definitely lying. You weren’t sure why he was gatekeeping this jeweller and you never got the chance to ask. 
“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Hey Zayne, you’ve been awfully quiet. Say something!” Miss Hunter gave him a playful push on the shoulder as she teased him. The sight would’ve been adorable if it weren’t for satan’s incarnate sitting inches away from you.
“Yeah Zayne, how was work? Steal anymore hearts lately?” You asked the deceivingly innocuous question while breaking apart a piece of bread. The double-entendre was like a secret you both shared; though the idea of sharing anything with that waste of space made you inscrutably angry. 
Sylus silently observed the interaction with curiosity. Your passive-aggressiveness was a trait he thought you only reserved for him. You were always nice, to everyone. Seeing you treat Zayne so coldly was like witnessing a beaver play the piano. It was unnatural. 
“Work went as well as expected.” Zayne’s clipped reply left no room for further discussion. The conversation came to do a lull, and you took it as the opportunity to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You immediately beelined away from the table that currently situated your nightmare blunt rotation and toward the women’s bathroom that was positively Zayne-free. 
The bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the restaurant but you didn’t get to admire it before you splashed water on your face in an attempt to cool down. There was no way you could last an entire dinner next to Zayne. Maybe you could say you were feeling sick. Probably a bad idea when he’s a doctor. Work emergency wasn’t plausible, your boss was at the table. What if you just ran away? You could live with the shame and embarrassment.
You looked up at the ceiling and silently cursed the heavens for your terrible luck. Seriously, you must’ve been a serial killer in your past life to deserve this fate. It was a never-ending series of unfortunate events, and you were desperate for a break. 
When you eventually left the bathroom, Zayne was standing right outside the door. He startled you, but the moment the shock wore off your face morphed into a deadly glare. 
“Look, I know you think I’m a terrible person but—”
“Monster is the term I’d use, but go on.” You rudely interrupted Zayne. He chose not to acknowledge your comment. 
“I rarely get to spend time with MC and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t ruin her birthday dinner because of me.” It didn’t take long for you to realise that MC must’ve been Miss Hunter’s first name. 
Zayne ruined everything he touched, he needed no help from you. 
“I’m sorry, does the fact that I’m angry at you for letting my mother die put a damper in your dinner plans?”
“Yes it does, actually.” Zayne responded quickly. He either didn’t understand sarcasm or was an even bigger dick than you thought.
“Then might I suggest you take her someplace else. It’s your fault you couldn’t get a table here. Why should I have to suffer because your incompetence knows no bounds?” You couldn’t think of a time you’d insulted someone so much in such quick succession. Dr Zayne brought out the worst in you, but you could reflect on your actions later. Right now you were at war. 
“We are perfectly capable of having an amicable dinner.” 
You rolled your eyes at his condescending tone. “You might be, I’m not that mature.” 
“Y/N. We’re both adults.” He pleaded.
“Bite me.” 
Before Zayne could open his mouth again, Sylus interrupted.
“Everything all good here?” For once in your life, you were grateful for Sylus’s interruption. 
“No.” You said.
“Yes.” Zayne also said, at the exact same time.
“Zayne you should head back to the table. Miss Hunter's waiting for you.” Zayne didn’t think twice before taking the out and you internally flipped off his retreating form.
Sylus grabbed you by the forearm, his grip tight as he dragged you to a secluded part of the rooftop and away from the bathrooms. 
“What’s going on with you?” He asked the moment you stopped moving, his hand still gripping onto your arm like a vice. 
“Can you let go? You’re hurting me.” He quickly released you, his eyes washing over with something you couldn’t recognise as you soothed the part he’d rubbed raw. 
“Why are you acting so childish?” His question would've angered you had you not been angry already.
“I hate his guts.” The response did not help your case, but you weren’t very articulate when you were upset. 
“What did he do to you?” Sylus’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a low tone that was laced with danger. You didn’t think too much of his strange reaction, Sylus acting strange was pretty much the only consistent thing in your life lately. 
You gnawed on your lip, unsure of how to respond. Your grievance against the world-renowned doctor was one you’d always kept to yourself. After all, everyone had nothing but praise for the brilliant Dr Zayne. 
“Y/N, if he touched you I’ll—” Your eyes quickly widened in shock at his interpretation.
“No! Nothing like that. It’s just, a few days before my mom died, a heart came in that was a match. But there was this other guy who was younger and needed it just as badly. The policy was that the hospital's medical board would vote on who got the heart and the entire board, Zayne included, unanimously agreed that the heart should go to the other guy.” They said it wasn't personal, that it had everything to do with survival rates, but there was no way to detach personhood from medicine.
You realised that when you said it out loud, your hate seemed unfounded. “I know it wasn’t entirely his fault, but he didn’t even try to give my mom a fighting chance. He didn't say anything to sway them, he just silently agreed. He was supposed to be her advocate.” The frustration began to boil over, and before you knew it there were tears welling up in your eyes.
“God, I spent every last dollar of my paycheque to make sure she got the greatest medical care money could buy. Everyone said he was the best, but when it really mattered, he did nothing for her. I was such an idiot.” There was an uncontrollable fountain of tears streaming down your face, and you were grateful for Sylus’s decision to drag you to somewhere secluded. 
The familiar tendrils of an oncoming panic attack began to wash over you as you began to hyperventilate. No matter how much you wanted to blame Dr Zayne, or the universe, or your shitty luck, the only person you could really blame was yourself. You sent her to that hospital, you convinced her to hold on for a transplant, you spent her last months on this Earth slaving away in another city instead of by her side. There was no way to get that time back. 
“Y/N, look at me. It’s not your fault.” Sylus’s voice was like a beacon of light that led you through the dark tunnel you were trapped in. He cradled your face in his hands, wiping away your tears as they continued to stream down your face. But when your tears showed no signs of slowing, he pulled you into his arms, his hands holding your tear-stricken face against his chest.
He ran his long fingers through your hair as he whispered everything you wanted to hear. "It’s not your fault. It’s okay to hate him. It will get easier."
You weren’t sure how long you spent with your face buried in his chest, but by the time you’d returned to reality, his white dress shirt was slightly transparent where your tears soaked through the material. 
You laughed a little at the sight, and the corners of Sylus’s lips raised ever so slightly at the sound. When he saw you were okay, Sylus began to speak. “Don’t move. I’ll grab your bag and we’ll get out of here.”
Before he could leave you tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Hey, I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.” You truly were. Sylus did not deserve to be subjected to yet another one of your meltdowns, but he seemed to have a habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. 
“No it's my fault, I ruined it by inviting them to join us. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sylus then manoeuvred through the restaurant toward the nightmare table. When he returned with your bag in one hand and the other outstretched toward you, your heart skipped a beat. Or two. He played the role of the knight-in-shining-armour quite seamlessly, and he looked every bit the handsome prince charming. You tried to remind yourself why it was so dangerous to be attracted to a force like Sylus, but when he smiled at you like you were the only two people in the room, all caution was thrown to the wind. 
_____________
In the spirit of making things up to you, you made Sylus take you to a restaurant of your choosing. It was a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place that charged so little one would question if they were serving real meat. But you never found better dumplings, so you took the risk anyway.
The dynamic was completely subverted as you sat on the table that was slightly sticky with cheap cleaning chemicals. Sylus was the one who looked out of place, his suit was unarguably the most expensive thing in the room and it brought joy to your miserable night to see him out of his comfort zone.
“How did you find this place?” The question was warranted, other than you two, the only other occupants in the restaurant were a few middle-schoolers.  
“I used to come here a lot with my friends in high school.”
“Did they all die from food poisoning?” Sylus seemed proud of his quick-witted joke. You gave him a pointed glare to convey just how unfunny that joke was. 
“Funny, but no. We just drifted apart after we graduated.” The clipped reply shut down any further inquiry. You thought back to the fond memories you had in that restaurant. Things were different when you didn’t yet know the cost of failure; before you knew what you’d be losing. And while everyone may have moved on from this small town in the N109 Zone, you never left. 
“Do you even have any friends?” You choked on your drink at the question. He was genuinely asking and the worst part was, you really didn’t.
Your constant struggle to make ends meet and maintain a high GPA for your academic scholarships made it impossible to have a social life. It didn’t help that you went to a college you couldn’t afford. It was hard to find people to relate to when everyone had grown up with silver spoons. Then after you graduated you landed at Onychinus, and it wasn’t exactly a friendly environment.
“Of course I have friends.” Your lie was a feeble attempt to preserve the last of your dignity. Sylus had seen you at your absolute worst, but there was something extremely dehumanising about letting him know you were insanely lonely.
“Really, who?” His genuine surprise only made your insecurity worse.
“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Plus, you wouldn’t know them.” 
“Try me.” Of course he wouldn’t drop it. When has Sylus ever let something go?
“Well, there’s Mr Demir, and Luke and Kieran, and my newly acquired friend Dr Hunt.” In a desperate attempt to keep up your lie, you pretty much just named all the people you knew. 
“Y/N, that’s the man who sells you your sandwiches, my assistants, and a geologist who sold you a gem.” 
“Has anyone ever told you that no one likes a know-it-all?” 
“I think you should get out more. Maybe tone down the sarcasm and you might just make a friend or two.” Your jaw-dropped in faux shock at his unsolicited advice.
“You’re one to talk, your best friend is a mechanical crow.” You snuck a dumpling off of his plate while he was distracted.
“I don’t need friends, they’re unnecessary burdens.” He took a swig of his beer. You thought he’d burst into flames if he drank anything other than red wine, but he adapted to his surroundings with little effort.
You put a hand on your heart as if in pain and jokingly gave him a solemn look.“Then why would you wish such a cruel fate onto me?”
“Because I hate seeing you this miserable, Y/N.” The amusement from your banter died a quick death at his confession. You thought you kept it together most of the time, though bawling your eyes out in the N109 Zone’s hottest restaurant probably didn’t do that facade any good. But for the most part, you handled the death of your mother relatively well. 
“I’m not miserable. Not all of the time at least. Like right now, I’m only mildly annoyed!” You tried to change the topic the only way you knew how, with humour, but Sylus wasn’t budging.
“You take care of everyone but yourself and all it’s done is isolate you. There needs to be a give and take, sweetheart. People don’t like feeling useless.” He spoke to you softly, as if he was scared the timbre of his voice would cause you to shatter into a million pieces. 
There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that followed his oddly specific guidance. He seemed to know more about you than you thought he did, and you were torn between feeling seen and feeling judged. 
“That’s sound advice. Guess you’ve been reading more magazines.” You were grasping at straws, willing to try anything to get the unwanted spotlight off of your inadequacies. 
“You also need to learn how to accept help without downplaying your problems.” 
“Okay, okay. You sound like my mother. Has her soul possessed you?” There you go Y/N. Play the dead mom card, that’ll work. 
He chuckled at your joke. You knew he found you funny.
“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Yeah, the manufacturers didn’t include an off-switch. No refunds, sorry.” You stuffed a dumpling in your mouth as the tension subsided. 
“Oh, I’m not returning you, sweetheart. They’ll have to pry you from my cold dead hands.” While you knew he was probably referring to the value you brought his company as his accountant, you couldn’t stifle the butterflies that wreaked havoc in your stomach.
You didn’t move when Sylus’s car stopped outside your house. 
“Thanks for tonight, I had fun. Sorry it didn’t go to plan.” You turned to him after you unbuckled your seatbelt and the tight confines of the car felt even smaller.
“It’s fine, I liked this version of events better anyway.” His low voice reverberated through the small distance between you, nestling in your heart that was beating unhealthily fast. 
“Me too. Next time you take a girl to dinner you ought to let her know if she’s supposed to dress like she’s going to the met gala.” Your advice had a bitter undertone because part of you still wished you could be the only girl he’d take to dinner. 
“I usually do, but this particular girl doesn’t need a fancy dress to be the most beautiful girl in the room.” The candid compliment made the butterflies do summersaults, and while their gymnastics routine continued, you found yourself at a loss for words.
“Goodnight, Y/N.” Sylus leaned over the centre console and opened the door for you, completing the chivalrous act of opening the door for you in his own unique fashion. He was so close, all it would take was one small move and his lips could’ve been on yours.
“Goodnight.” You barely got the word out through the sudden bout of breathlessness you were experiencing. And when you were finally encased in the familiar four walls of your home, you thought about every moment you shared with Sylus and how different he seemed from the man you knew before. 
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The weekend passed by in a blur. The necklace that looked like a carbon copy of your mom’s was nestled on your neck. A permanent reminder that made ‘Operation Sylus: No More’ infinitely harder to achieve. 
Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him to stop being a dick, because what you thought would be an easy feat was beginning to feel like climbing a mountain with a peak you couldn’t even see. 
You were staring at the list on your notes app on your brand new phone in hopes of searing it into your memory. 
Operation Sylus: No More
The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November. 
Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.
Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly. 
Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants. 
Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!
Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.
You violated step 5 that Friday when you let him take you to dinner and you were reaping the consequences of your mistake. There was no way you could survive the free-fall if you couldn't get your heart to obey your mind. The disconnect between the two vital organs might be the thing that kills you.
When you heard something shatter in the hallway, you quickly put your phone down and went out to investigate.
The door opened to Mephisto standing on a side table where an empty vase used to sit. The vase was now on the floor in pieces in front of your feet. 
“You did this on purpose.” You pointed an accusing finger at the bird, but all he did was tilt his head to the side as if he couldn’t understand you. You knew he could understand you perfectly well.
The cold war between you two started in your first week at Onychinus when he would swoop at your head spontaneously for no reason. Sylus told you he did it to everyone he didn’t trust and that he’d be over it in due time, but you were too vindictive to let it slide. 
Several back-and-forth pranks later, the bird seemed to have remembered the tradition you managed to forget. “If this is your way of saying you miss me then you take an awful lot after your owner.” Your words faded as you made your way to the kitchen to find the broom. However, upon your return you saw that the floor was flawless and the door to your office was closed.
You rushed in with unparalleled speed to see your worst nightmare; Sylus leaning against your desk in his usual model-like fashion with your phone in his hand.
Panic coursed through you like never before as you remembered what had been left open on your phone when you set it down and the painful fact that you left it unlocked. 
Prayers for a sinkhole to open up and consume you in that very moment went unanswered as Sylus looked up at you with a smirk on his face.
“Is my laugh really deadly?” He looked amused. 
Come on sinkhole. Anytime now. 
When you didn’t answer, Sylus moved toward you. When he was close enough to touch you, he leaned down to make sure your eyes were on his.
“Your deadline is fast approaching, Y/N. Care for a progress report?” The taunting question made heat rush to your face.
“It was stupid, I wrote it months ago.”
“Then why did you have it open?” 
You couldn’t exactly tell him that his willingness to change his cold and cruel demeanour just to keep you as his accountant revived the feelings you thought were long dead. You definitely couldn’t tell him that the necklace that suddenly weighed down your chest made your heart skip a beat every time you touched it. And there was no way you were telling him that the dinner you shared was the happiest you’d felt in a long time.
“I was going to delete it when I heard Mephisto break something in the hallway.”
“Delete it? Guess you don’t need it anymore.”
“Nope.” You popped the P on the word for emphasis. “Can I have my phone back now?” He placed the device into your outstretched hand. 
“So how do you feel about me now, sweetheart?”
You tried your best to appear unperturbed by his taunting. “Mad at your blatant violation of my privacy.”
“Forgive me. I saw my name on your phone when I went to check in on you and I was curious.”
“Mephisto told you I broke the vase, didn’t he?”
“Don’t deflect. Do you still have feelings for me?”
“No, they’re gone. Can we please drop this? It’s embarrassing.” You lied in favour of self-preservation and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see through your act.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Many women confess their love for me every month.” You rolled your eyes at his ardent display of over-confidence and narcissism, though you knew he wasn’t exaggerating.  
“Okay, brace yourself there bachelor. No one said anything about love.” It was true, you never said you loved him. Whether or not you did, well that was a secret you’d take to the grave. 
“So then which feeling are we discussing?” The loaded question came out of his mouth so casually, like someone ordering a latte. A display of power that reminded you of just how little this mattered to him. 
Your feet felt like they were grounded in their place by an invisible force and you were sure your cheeks were beet red. You knew your mouth was slightly agape in shock, but you couldn’t even close it. Meanwhile, Sylus was unfazed, treating your feelings like a game. 
“Since when do you even care about how I feel?” The sudden outburst was accompanied by your hand running through your hair out of frustration.
Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a moment he said nothing. There was no hint of amusement left on his features. 
“You think I don’t care about you?” He seemed irritated by the premise, but you couldn’t figure out why. You thought Sylus was proud of his clear disregard for other people’s emotions. 
“You treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of your boot for years. What reason did you give me to think otherwise?”
“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I pay you more than my highest ranking footmen. Or that I had Mephisto tail you when you used to bike to and from work to make sure you got home safe. Hell, I invented the lunch budget when I hired you just to make sure you were eating— I even banned mushrooms from my kitchen in case you wanted to eat here. Not to mention the bullshit extra work I’d assign you just so you would stay longer.” 
Choosing not to dwell on the implication of his silent acts of kindness, you interjected. “Hey, I took those tasks seriously!” The twins thought you were crazy when you asked if Sylus was making those assignments up. You knew you were right. 
“Don’t interrupt me.” Your mouth clamped shut at his rather reasonable request. Sylus wasn’t a big talker, so when he monologued, it was important. 
“Your kindness, your humour, it all caught me off guard. No one ever treated me like you did and I had no idea how to feel. The little doodles you sent back to me on the notes I left you delineating tasks? I kept every last one. When Mephisto complained to me about that time you put corn-starch in his water fountain and almost destroyed his wiring, all I could do was laugh. I treated you like I treated all my men because I didn’t want people to find out that you were my weakness.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, but the pressure wasn’t budging. There was so much you didn’t know about Sylus, so much you completely misunderstood. This revelation caused a series of chain reactions to go off inside your brain and the weight of what he was trying to say felt suffocating.
You dreamed of a time where Sylus would reciprocate your feelings, but the reality of it was more daunting than you realised.
“All my threats are empty with you, Y/N. You’re the only one who gets away with the attitude you give me. You tell me you crashed a car worth over half-a-million dollars and all I could think about was if you were okay. I even offered to buy your house for way more than it was worth just to get you back. Do you seriously think I don’t care?” 
All sound came to a stifling halt. 
“Wait, you were the ‘developer’?”
The inklings of betrayal wove their way through your skin as the pieces began to fall into place. The timing of the eviction notice, the fact that he’d shown up at your house the day you received it, the way he was so quick to agree to the ridiculous bonus. 
He manipulated you like a puppet on a string and let you think you were in control the entire time.
“Don’t look at me like I’m some traitor.” His audacious demand made your blood boil.
“You are a traitor! How could you do that to me?” You yelled.
“You were going to leave me like I was nothing!” For the first time since you’d met him, Sylus raised his voice to match yours. Your entire body went cold at his vulnerability. He was afraid of being abandoned, and that was a fear you both shared.
“Not seeing you every day made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest. I could barely focus, all I could think about was what you were doing, who you were with. So imagine my surprise when I come to find that while I’m being tortured every minute I’m away from you, you needed more time.
“I knew I was being selfish, I knew that your grief had nothing to do with me, but I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. That day in the graveyard when you wouldn’t even look at me, I thought I’d lost you for good. It ate at me like a parasite. I had to get you back and I won’t apologise for not playing fair. There isn’t a rule I wouldn’t break for you, Y/N.”  
It was hard to hate him for what he did when you understood where he was coming from. You were two sides of the same coin. While you overcompensated for the lack of love in your life by becoming the ultimate people-pleaser, he avoided it at every turn, saw it as a weakness. But at the core of every human being was an innate desire to be loved and an inherent fear of being abandoned. 
People couldn’t leave your life if you never let them in. That was a philosophy you saw both your mother and Sylus live by. It was lonely and difficult, and if you had the power of hindsight you would’ve tried harder to convince your mother she was worthy of love. You couldn’t make that same mistake again. 
You loved Sylus, that much was ingrained into the flesh of your heart. For all his rugged edges, he had a way of making things happen that was akin to magic. His determination, his grit, it was admirable.
His intelligence was infuriating, you couldn’t get anything past him. If he received the Greeks’ horse instead of the Trojans, you were sure he’d have seen right through their ruse. 
His desire to make the N109 Zone a better place stemmed from a sense of altruism you could only hope to possess. And when Sylus did things for others, he never expected anything in return. 
But for all his greatest traits he had some difficult ones too. He’d hurt you more times than you could count, and even if he’d changed drastically since your mother’s death, you couldn’t quite trust that he wouldn’t hurt you again.
“You already know how I feel about you.” You confessed. It was no secret you wore your heart on your sleeve, despite your mother’s constant reminders that the world was filled with terrible people who’d take advantage of your candour. You chose to see the good in others, it boded better than the grim lifestyle that came with perpetual pessimism. 
“Then why are you fighting this?” His question came out pained, and it was one you could answer. 
“I’ve loved you for a long time, Sylus. I loved you even though you insulted me, ignored me, reminded me I was replaceable every chance you got.
“I told myself it was just how you were, that it wasn’t personal. But when you walked out on me in the hospital when I needed you the most, I loved you a little less.”
Sylus felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest, like someone took a needle to his heart. He left that hospital because he wasn’t sure you’d even want him there, and it pained him to see you so distraught over a problem he couldn’t fix. When MC came to him with an important mission in Skyhaven, he saw an out, and like the coward he was he took it. If he knew that you’d lose your mother while he was away, he never would have left your side. 
“When you didn’t call until weeks later, when you showed up only to tell me I was being dramatic for grieving, I loved you even less. Every time you screwed me over you made it easier to live without you.”
It hurt to remember the pain you were in back then, the immense pressure of the burdens you carried. But if there was ever a chance of you and Sylus working out, he needed to know the truth. 
“I’ve only ever loved two people, Sylus, and in one month it felt like I’d lost them both. I still love you, I’m afraid I couldn’t stop if I tried, but I don’t know if I can be more than your accountant right now.” You couldn’t survive another heartbreak, that much was for sure. 
Even though Sylus looked like he was going to be sick, you continued. 
“I thought I was okay with you treating me like everybody else, thought I was strong enough to take it. But when I saw you with Miss Hunter and the softness with which you spoke to her, it broke me. I saw that you were capable of being gentle. You just didn’t think I was a worthy recipient of your kindness.”
He was quick to correct you. “That’s not true, sweetheart. Not at all. She has something I need, something I can’t take with force. It’s why I’ve had to adopt unusual methods. If I’d known it was causing you so much pain I would’ve explained. Fuck, Y/N, you deserve so much more than just my kindness, more than I could ever give you. I can’t even think of a person on Earth who deserves you at all.” 
When Sylus saw the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, he resisted the urge to wipe them away.
“I’ll give you anything you ask for, anything but letting you go. There’s nothing so broken it can’t be fixed, Y/N. You taught me that. Let me fix this.” He tested the waters by taking your hand in his and when you let him, he pulled you into his arms. 
For a moment, the room was silent. You listened to his heartbeat through his chest and it might have been even faster than yours. It felt like deja vu, reminding you of that moment in the restaurant, or that time in his hallway after Zayne’s phone call. Sylus was there to comfort you more often than not, why were you so scared of letting him in?
“I want to believe you, I just don’t know that I can.” Your voice was small, timid. As if you were afraid something you’d say would shatter the sanctity of this moment and you’d find out it was all a dream. 
“I won’t stop trying until you do, sweetheart. You’re it for me, there’s no one else.” He kissed the top of your head with a softness you didn’t know he possessed and the words were like bandages wrapping around the wounds inflicted by your own envy.
In the comfortable silence, Sylus made a vow. “I don’t have regrets — you know that quite well — but I regret the way I treated you. I’ll spend every lifetime repenting for my mistakes, Y/N, and I promise I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” He squeezed you tighter and the comfort his warmth brought you was a welcome change to the cold you lived in all the time. 
Desperate to diffuse the overwhelming angst of the situation, you pulled away from his embrace and clapped your hands together. “Okay then, as of today we commence ‘Operation Sylus: The Redemption'.”
His loud laugh resounded through your office, and it was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. He grabbed your chin. “Have you always been this corny?” 
“I watch a lot of movies, okay? Now, shake on it.” You shook his hand off your face and held out your hand with an invitation that he instantly accepted. With his warm hand encasing yours, you whole-heartedly hoped this operation would be a success. 
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Late December
You assumed the dynamic between you and Sylus would drastically change following your impromptu heart-to-heart. But the changes came in small waves. 
It started with the middle-aged man who silently drove you to and from work with a permanent scowl on his face being replaced by Sylus himself.
Then there was the sticky notes he’d usually place on documents explaining the task and deadline, now with an added addendum.
— That necklace was the best decision I’ve ever made.
— Your hair looks especially nice today.
— Did you switch perfumes? I like it.
— That new lipstick suits you. Your lips are all I can think about. 
You saved all of them in a drawer at your desk. 
He had someone bring you your lunch every day and spent your entire lunch break with you. Somedays you talked until your tongue felt like it was going to fall off, other days you just sat and ate together in silence. And every Friday afternoon, instead of taking you straight home, he’d take you to visit your mother’s grave with a new bouquet in his hands. 
You were glad he was taking things slow. His small gestures made your heart flutter without overwhelming you, but it had been a month since your confrontation, and he didn’t even try to touch you. 
While your inexperience with love, lust and romance never impacted any significant aspect of your life before, it was growing increasingly difficult to wait for Sylus to make the first move. He didn’t want to scare you, that much was understandable. But you were growing angsty waiting for him the tension between you two hit a boiling point.
The glorious plan came to you while you were shopping with Luke and Kieran for Onychinus’s annual Christmas gala. It was a networking event masked under the guise of a holiday celebration where the people hiding in the shadows of the underworld could spend one night communicating on the surface.
Every year, Sylus insisted he couldn’t outsource waiters for the event because of potential security leaks, so you, the twins and a couple other of his staff were forced to fill in as the help. Sylus told you that you wouldn’t have to participate this year, but you began to look forward to the event. It was like an unorthodox Christmas tradition.
Your eyes drifted to the costume section of the party store, and when they landed on a short red Santa’s helper dress, you felt a lightbulb turn on in your head. Maybe you had to give Sylus a little nudge.
“Hey, aren't you guys kind of bored of the slacks and the dress shirts he makes us wear?” You sowed the seed of doubt into your unwilling accomplices.
“Duh. I hate dressing like a butler.” Luke’s eyes continued to scan the aisle for decorations. The hall was professionally decorated, but you added your own little details every year. It made things less drab and it gave the twins an excuse to spend hours in the party supply store. 
“What if we went with Christmas themed costumes this year?” The twins turned to look at you with confusion, but they quickly warmed up to the idea when you pointed at the wall of seasonal costumes.
“I’m Rudolph!” They made their declarations in unison before breaking out into an argument in the middle of the party store.
“Just flip a coin!” You desperately suggested, taking a coin out of your wallet and placing it on your thumb, ready to flip. People were beginning to stare.
“I’m heads!” They said in unison, again.
“Kieran you’re heads, Luke you’re tails.” You assigned them the parts of the coin alphabetically and watched it flip through the air. When it landed in your hands, it displayed tails. You silently hoped they would move on from this unnecessary battle and restore peace to your shopping trip again.
“Sorry Kieran, Luke’s Rudolph.” Kieran complained for the rest of the day about how annoying being an elf was, and how, since he was an inch taller than Luke, it only made sense for Luke to be the elf instead. 
They argued like the siblings you never had, and for all the pain and suffering they caused you, there was no denying you loved having them around. Besides, working for Sylus left the three of you trauma-bonded for life. There wasn’t really an out from this unconventional friendship. 
_________________
You failed to remember to clear the costume idea with Sylus before the gala. He was just so busy trying to organise the event, and you were similarly swamped with ensuring all the invoices were sent out on time to the right vendors. You barely saw each other in the days leading up to the big event.
The dress was shorter on you than you anticipated. Coming up just above mid-thigh, it was nothing like anything you owned in your closet. The little hat it came with was cute though and you pinned it to your hair. The make-up you wore was the same as your everyday makeup, barring the eyeliner you’d spent way too long trying to perfect and your lipstick. 
Other than the dress, you really did look the same as you did most of the time. Would Sylus even notice?
Right on cue, a knock on your door snapped you out of your train of thought, and you took a deep breath before opening it. 
As you expected, Sylus looked unfazed by your choice in attire as you moved out of the doorway to let him in.
“I see we’ve foregone the uniforms this year.” His comment was a welcome distraction from your insecurities.
“Whimsy is part of the Christmas spirit, you know.”
“It’s cute. Did you get that dress from the children’s section?”
The question came so out of left-field it left you were stunned. Once the shock settled in, you suddenly felt self-conscious.
“No… Why? Does it look childish?” You couldn’t help the vulnerability in your voice. 
Sylus closed the distance between you in a few long strides, his hands were on you in an instant. His palm was holding onto your waist the other tracing alone the edge of your dress. 
“Quite the opposite, I’m just wondering why they’d make a dress so short for adult women.” 
“Adult women can dress however they want, Sylus.” You chided.
“I know, but I’ll have my hands full if I’m trying to host this event and take care of the hoards of men that will be chasing after my girl at the same time.” He whispered the words seductively into your ear, the hand on your thigh slipping ever-so-slightly under the dress.
You ignored the warm, fuzzy feeling that bloomed through you at the sound of Sylus calling you his girl.
“There won’t be ‘hoards of men’. This will be the third time I’m working your annual gala and I’ve only ever gotten hit on like four times.” You knew from the way his eyebrows furrowed that you shouldn’t have told him that.
“Four times? Men hit on you four times while I was in the room and you didn’t tell me?” He was clearly angry, his rage unwarranted since it happened right under his nose. 
“I didn’t think you’d care. Most of them were like fifty, anyway!” That was true, and every time one of them placed a hand on your shoulder or your forearm, it made you grimace. 
“If men approached you in long pants and a dress shirt with a plate of refreshments in your hand what do you think they’ll do when they see you in this get up?” He walked you back until you were standing against the wall.
He had a point. Maybe it was too suggestive.
“I can change—”
“No. You never have to do that with me, baby. Just stay where I can see you, alright?” 
“Okay.” You felt a blush paint your cheeks. The tension was bubbling up between you. His hand was searing into your waist, his other one moving dangerously high on your thigh. You really thought this would be the moment he kissed you. But then the warmth of his hands was abruptly gone. 
“Okay. You ready to go?” He held the door open for you. That was it? Frustrated at your lack of results, you silently walked out of your house.
__________________
“Did you see Sylus’s date?”
“Of course, she’s definitely the hottest girl here.”
“I bet she’s had work done.”
“If so, I need the name of her surgeon.”
You eavesdropped on the hushed whispers of a group of women who were gossiping in a corner near the kitchen. The second you walked through the doors of the extravagant event hall, you both went your separate ways and you hadn’t seen him since. So much for not letting you out of his sight. 
All you heard about the entire night was his mysterious date and her envious beauty. He never told you he was bringing one, nor did he ever ask you to fill the spot. But before you could completely spiral, you reminded yourself of Sylus’s promise. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. 
“Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing working here?” Your train of thought was interrupted by the voice of a man. You turned around, expecting to see one of the many sleazy old men who frequented these events and saw you as an easy target, but all you saw was a young, attractive guy in a three-piece suit. Huh.
“Hors d’oeuvre?” You offered the plate to him in place of a response. 
“No thanks. I’ve had my fill, though I must say, the other servers aren’t quite as easy on the eyes as you.” His eyes shamelessly scanned every inch of you, head-to-toe, and you felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze. 
“Oh, um thanks.” The blush on your cheeks was an unwanted biological reaction, you weren’t used to attention from men within your age range. It wasn't like you thought you were ugly, you were just a bit of a hermit.
“What’s your name, beautiful?” You were about to answer his question when someone did it for you.
“Y/N.” The voice belonged to the man of the hour who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. 
“Sylus, hello. Hors d’oeuvre?” Clearly you were running out of things to say if your default reaction was to offer everyone a snack, but it was hard to find the voice to speak when you saw the girl who had her arms wrapped around his. 
Miss Hunter. You should’ve known. Your eyes passed over her beautiful dress and pinned up hair. She lived up to the rumours, she was definitely the prettiest girl in the room. Next to Sylus the pair reminded you of a renaissance painting. They made sense, and clearly not just aesthetically if he brought her as his date instead of you.
Sylus saw the way your eyes trailed off to MC standing next to him. He saw the self-doubt turn your eyes glassy, and all he wanted to do was whisk you away to a private room where he could show you just how badly he wanted you, and no one else.
But his enemies were in attendance tonight, it was part of the reason he didn’t want you there. Sylus’s only weakness used to be his mortality, and even that was debatable. But now his biggest weakness was tangible, and she wore an adorable Christmas themed dress that made every man in the room brim with desire. Miss Hunter may have been the focus of all the women in attendance, but all the men could talk about was the sexy server in the little red dress. It was driving him insane. 
But MC was a hunter and if he endangered her, she could get out of it unscathed without his help. Their enemies were the same, which made them perfect allies, but it also made their loved ones easy targets. Sylus would never forgive himself if he let someone hurt you. So despite the excruciating pain that coursed through him at your hurt expression, he did nothing to quell your concerns.
But he couldn’t idly stand by and let this man make a pass at you either. It was clear Henry was not aware of Sylus’s newly established no-fraternising-with-the-staff policy. 
“Henry, not distracting my staff, are you?” Sylus directed his attention to his business associate. Henry ran a security company which supplied a large portion of their weaponry from Onychinus. The contract they shared was a substantial source of revenue that Sylus couldn’t afford to compromise. 
“I’m just wondering where you found such delectable staff.” Sylus felt his jaw clench at the way Henry undressed you with his eyes and your consequential discomfort. Fuck the contract, he was going to make that man pay. But he couldn’t inflict his revenge quite yet, so he played nice. 
“Unfortunately my staff are exclusively mine. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to find loyal help.” Well, at least he tried to play nice. The subtle jab at Henry’s recent whistleblower scandal was a low blow, but he wasn’t above kicking below the belt.
Annoyed and slightly confused by the exchange, you rolled your eyes at the testosterone-fuelled men bickering and cleared your throat.
“I think I’m needed in the kitchen. Nice meeting you, Henry.” You gave him the kindest smile you could muster and gave Sylus no smile at all. It was the least he deserved for blindsiding you with his date. 
“I should check on the catering, excuse me.” Sylus followed you to the kitchen and the second he caught up to you, he pulled you into a nearby storage closet.
There was barely any room for the both of you in there, so you were pressed up against his body. You tried to create some distance between you two, but he just pulled you back in by your waist.
“What are you doing? I’m supposed to be working and you’re supposed to be socialising. We can’t do those things from here.” You berated him quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t really need anyone from the staff discovering you in this compromising position. You’d had enough embarrassment in one night for a lifetime.
“Miss Hunter is just here with me on business.” Sylus’s statement did little to comfort the tumultuous storm in your mind. 
“I don’t care.” In a sense, it was true. It seemed your mind didn’t care whether Miss Hunter was there with him on business or not, it still hurt all the same. 
“Don’t lie to me, I can tell when you’re upset.” Sylus tried to caress your cheek but you pushed his hand away. 
“Okay, fine. I’m upset. Now will you let me leave?” You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. His hand squeezed your face as he forced you to face him. 
“If you’re upset, talk to me about it. Don’t antagonise me by flirting with other men. It won’t end well for them.” The fire in his eyes swore retribution and you did not want to be Henry right now.
“I wasn’t flirting!” You tried to defend yourself but you knew he’d see straight through your ruse. 
“That sweet smile of yours is reserved for me and me alone.” There was no way Sylus would’ve let that over-the-top smile slide and this was exactly how you expected him to react, but it only made you more upset.  
“Right, but I just have to make do with sharing you with Miss Hunter.” The irony of the situation was not lost on Sylus, but he had a laundry-list of crimes, hypocrisy was the least of them. 
“I’m all yours, baby. I promise it’s just business.” He sounded sincere, and you trusted him to tell you the truth. Sylus never lied unless it was out of omission, but when you asked him a direct question, he never failed to answer honestly. 
“I can help you with business.” You tried to reason, your palm resting against his pounding heart. 
“Not this kind, sweetheart. I’m just trying to protect you. I need you to trust me.” You trusted Sylus with your life, with your heart. Which was why you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to the question you asked next. 
“Did you sleep with her?” The mere thought of it tasted like acid on your tongue. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of Sylus’s past, but where the other women in his life came and left like the tide, Miss Hunter’s presence was persistent. 
You needed to know just how far they’d gone, even if it might destroy you. 
“Yes. It was one time when we first met in September. Before I realised how I felt for you.” The words pierced straight through you like bullets of radiation. Your palm slowly slipped off of his chest and you diverted your gaze to your heels. “Y/N, you know I only want you. It meant nothing to me.” 
Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that they’d slept together that hurt you so deeply. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the way she got under his skin. Sylus may love you, but what if he wasn’t attracted to you?
The thought slipped out of you before you could mull it over. “How am I supposed to believe that when you were all over in seconds and you won’t even kiss me?!” 
A hint of recognition flashed through Sylus’s eyes as he realised the catalyst behind your frustration. For some odd reason that he could never figure out, you were insecure. Even though your charm bordered on lethal and your beauty was unparalleled, you still felt inadequate. It perplexed him how someone could look so divine and not be aware of it.
“I haven’t kissed you because I wanted to make sure you were ready, sweetheart. I was worried I’d scare you away, because I’m sure if I got a taste of you I wouldn’t know how to stop.” He sounded strained when he spoke, as if he was recalling his frustration at having to hold back. 
You watched him intently, his words dripped with a desire you both shared. With his body so close to yours, it was hard not to wish he’d just act on his primal instincts. 
“You’re entirely unaware of your affect on me. You have no idea how precarious the string holding me back from insanity has become. When I saw you in that dress, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back. But then you'd look up at me with those angelic eyes and I realise I can’t risk losing you.” 
Before you could even think it through, your desire became overwhelming and your lips were on his in an instant.
It was nothing like you expected, nothing like the chaste, sweet kisses you saw in your movies. It was heated, messy, desperate. His lips ravaged yours like a man on death row devoured his last meal. You felt his desire with every movement and all the doubt you had dissipated instantly. His hands were all over you, one softly held on to your neck, while the other held on to your waist like you might disappear. 
His lips moved to your cheek, your jaw and eventually the sensitive skin on your collarbone. When he bit a particularly sensitive part of your neck, you let out a whine. You hoped he hadn't given you a hickey. His face came up to yours as he looked at your lips which were red from the impact and the desire running rampant in your eyes. It might’ve been the most beautiful you’d ever looked.
“Well? I’m still here.” You whispered against his lips before giving him a chaste peck.
Sylus knew you weren’t just talking about this moment. You never left, even when he gave you a million reasons why you should. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such luck, but he knew he’d never give you a reason to walk away from him ever again.
“We should get out of here.” Somehow you knew he didn’t just mean the storage closet. He shifted to lead you out but you quickly stopped him.
“You can’t leave your own party! What about your date?” As much as the idea of MC hanging off his arm made your skin crawl, it wasn’t right to just leave her alone. 
“She’ll be fine. The only woman I care about is right in front of me, and I want to do so much to her than kiss her in a storage closet.” There was an underlying promise in his tone, and you felt the slightest bit of fear that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.
“You’ve lasted this long, what’s one more night?” Your last ditch effort to escape the dangerous situation was unsuccessful. 
“Sweetheart, I can't wait another second.” He gave you a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed his fraying restraint. Your fear felt inconsequential when he was with you, you knew you could trust him wholly with every part of you. 
So, when he led you out of the storage closet and all the way to his bedroom, you never once felt scared. Or insecure. Or inadequate. Sylus worshipped you like you were his salvation and he never once let you doubt yourself again.
Later that night, as you laid in his bed underneath his covers, staring over at his peaceful sleeping expression, you realised he was your salvation too.
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Christmas Day
“What’s the surprise?” You asked the same question for the umpteenth time. 
“Just be patient, we’re almost there.” You let Sylus lead you through what you thought was a building while you obediently kept your eyes shut. Eventually your feet came to a halt, and you were bursting with anticipation. 
“Alright, open your eyes.” When you opened them you were in the living room of a charming beach house. It was so bright it took your eyes a while to adjust, but when they did you noticed that it was decorated with splashes of your favourite shade of yellow. The large balcony doors opened to the sight of a familiar beach, and you felt a range of emotions wash over you all at once. Sadness, nostalgia, yearning. 
“Merry Christmas, baby.” Sylus’s voice behind you snapped you back to reality. 
“What is this place?” The awe in your voice could not be concealed.
“It’s yours. I know how much you hate being on the beach, but I also know it meant a lot to your mother. From this balcony it’ll be like you’re right there without actually being there.” He sounded almost nervous while presenting his gift to you, worried you might hate it. But there wasn’t a word that could describe the pure gratitude and love you felt for the man standing in front of you. 
“You bought me a house on my mother’s favourite beach?” The disbelief in your voice was almost tangible. 
“Yeah.”
“Sylus, all I got you was a pocket watch!” You thought that since you were both not very big on Christmas, you would exchange small gifts. Clearly small wasn’t a word Sylus kept in his vocabulary. 
“You gave me so much more than that.” The suggestion in his voice did nothing to soothe your guilt. 
“This is too much.”
“Y/N, you’re more familiar with my assets than I am, if this made a significant dent in my bank account I think you would’ve noticed when I bought it a month ago.” 
“You’ve had this for a month?” The shock persisted, but he was right. His expenses ranged from a box of paperclips to the purchase of a two-hundred-million dollar industrial complex. 
“Yes, I bought it the first time you asked me to take you to the beach after work.”
“But what if we didn’t work out?” A month ago that seemed like a palpable possibility, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without Sylus in it.
“I’d find a way to trick you into taking it anyway.” 
You all but rolled your eyes at the memory of his less-than-graceful plan to acquire your house until you ended up working for him again. 
“Right, of course. You’re quite good at that I hear.” 
“I’m good at many things, I’ll remind you later.” He drawled against your ear, but before you could force him to act on his promise he spoke up again. “For now, there’s one more surprise.” 
You let Sylus lead you out to the balcony with his hands on your shoulders, driving you forward. He stood behind you, his chest to your back. He pointed to a hill on the left of the house where a beautiful willow tree sat atop the beach on a cliff.
“I bought that plot of land too. I don’t want to overstep, but if you’d like, we could move your mother here. Have her final resting place be at the place she loved the most.” His voice kept you anchored as memories of your mother threatened to pull you away. It still filled your chest with overwhelming sadness when you thought of her, but the thought that she could spend forever in the place that brought her the most joy filled you with relief. You didn’t get to give your mother much, but at least Sylus helped you give her this. 
You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face if you tried.
Sylus had come a long way from that day at the graveyard, an even longer way from the day you met him. The fact that he grew to care about your mother as much as you did made your heart swell with love for him that expanded every day. Something you didn’t even think was possible.
“She would love that.” Sylus wrapped his hands around your waist, placing an ever-so-gentle kiss on your temple. “I wish you could’ve met her when she was alive, you would’ve loved her.” They were both the strongest people you knew, and it pained you that they never got to meet. 
“I’m sure I would have. After all, I am a huge fan of her work.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his cheesy joke. You were rubbing off on him, that was for sure. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face at the sound of your joyful laugh and you had to squeeze out of his grasp to make him stop. 
While you wished you didn’t have to lose someone so important to you to gain another, things always had a weird way of working out. Your future was still murky, but what you did know for sure was that ’Operation Sylus: No More’ could officially be declared a massive failure. And even though the physical hole in your heart still existed, the proverbial one shrunk to half it’s size; and you had the silver-haired man with the stone-encased heart of gold to thank for that. 
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toodymcdoody · 27 days ago
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“That is a stupid fucking bitch move-“
“whoa whoa whoa!” satoru giggles at you.
Who would’ve know that a simple trip to the grocery store would bring out all this anger from you. Not him, because if he knew you’d be muttering under your breath while walking down aisles, he would’ve brought you shopping way sooner to see your cute face. All scrunched up, eyes squinting and the bread being thrown into the basket harshly is the latest victim of your wrath.
Gojo slowly grabs the bread while you aren’t looking and fixes it so it isn’t smashed by other foods in the cart.
“How dare they?!” you keep going. There are no signs of stopping, not since you noticed something at the entrance door and yall are already half way through the store.
Finally your muttering (and Gojo’s giggles) are heard by another shopper who in turn asks,
“Oh are you talking about the Ad on the front door?” Before Gojo can stop you, you turn to the guy, who seems to be around your age. You eye him suspiciously.
“Yea,” it’s clipped, with a little annoyance. Somehow it flies over the guys head.
“Oh yea! their use of AI was really good! I could barely tell,”
Gojo physically grabs you from jumping at the guy, who in turn flinches back with a now gob-smacked face.
You open your mouth to yell at him but Gojo beats you to it. His finger pointing directly at this random guy and telling him, “If you love it so much, you must hate humanity!” and goes on and on about how this guy (and AI) sucks.
“-and it’s killing trees!” Gojo finishes yelling, and the guy is actively turning into another aisle. You turn around to look at your boyfriend and smile up at him.
“You were listening to everything I said!” you cheer, he leans down and kisses your forehead, giving your shoulders a squeeze.
“Well yea, I love you,” he says so simply. It’s as if he’s saying ‘2+2=4’, something that’s known all over the world. Something no one argues against. Something that’s going to last for eons and eons after y’all.
“I also love humanity and the trees,”
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toodymcdoody · 28 days ago
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you and your sister are at an anime convention. albeit, you’re both mostly there to take your younger brother, you are also a nerd.
walking into the vendor area, you take the lead and show your brother some areas.
“This is where you meet some of the voice actors…” your voice trails off as you look at one particular name. Ian Sinclair …why is that name so familiar?
Without looking behind you, you ask, “Hey, why is Ian Sinclair so familiar,” and turn around.
Expecting to see your sister, you’re greeted by a way taller, stick figure, with white hair and glasses. You physically have to bend your neck to look up at his face.
“oh my god,” it slips out on accident. you can’t see any emotion on this dudes face but it really feels like he’s peering down at you and- is he smirking now? it feels like this staring contest has been going on for awhile before you hear your sister call for you.
she grabs both you and your brother, pushing y’all out of the walk way.
“girl. you totally flinched.” making an ‘oh shit’ face you three start laughing,
“did i really? i was just so surprised! i mean, he was tall as fuck i thought i was gonna break my neck!!”
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