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dollgxtz · 2 days ago

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His Watchful Eye Pt.12

Word Count: 18.5k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, possession, forced pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, tw if u have tokophobia, some smut, masturbation, mentions of breeding, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, pet names like kitten, sweetie, honey, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel, @emidpsandia , @angel-jupiter, @hwangintakswifey, @webmvie, @housesortinghat, @fading-twinkle, @shoruio, @gojos1ut, @solomonlover, @cheesenjam, @elegantnightblaze, @mavphorias, @babylavendersblog, @burntoutfrogacademic, @sinstae, @certainduckanchor, @ladyackermanisdead, @sh4nn, @milkandstarlight, @lilyadora, @depressedwhore, @nyumin, @kiwookse, @anisha24-blog1, @weepingluminarytale, @xxhayashixx, @hesperisms, @adraxsteia

AN: This is on A03! Good news guys!! Next chapter you guys get to find out the gender of the baby!! EEE even I'm excited and I'm the one whose writing it LOL. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter even if it is a tad bit sad. As always, tysm for your comments, asks, likes, and reblogs. I try and answer as many as I can! I get so happy when I see a new one. Never in a million years did I think so many people would love my writing to this degree! Mwah <3

As he got back up, Sylus’s lips brushed against yours in a way that felt surprisingly gentle, almost reverent, as though he were savoring every second. But slowly, his kiss grew deeper, his lips pressing into yours with a hunger that caught you off guard. His hand cupped the side of your face, his fingers tracing the edge of your jaw as he whispered between each kiss, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hand gliding from your cheek to your shoulder. "So pretty with my baby growing in you, you're doing so good for me..."

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10 Pt.11

Sitting in the library, you flipped through the pages of a book with little interest, the bland diagrams of bird anatomy staring back at you. The book wasn't exactly captivating, but it beat staring at the wall, lost in thought. Beside you, Mephisto shifted restlessly on the armchair, feathers catching the dim light.

"Coo..." he murmured, his beady red eyes fixated on the page showing the dissection of a crow.

You chuckled softly, reaching out to pet his cold, metallic head. "Don’t worry, you’re safe. No one’s dissecting you," you assured him, laughing as he flapped his wings in what seemed to be robotic indignation. "Well…I guess you could be taken apart. Screws and metal are a bit easier to put back together than bones and sinew."

"Caw! Caw!" Mephisto protested, his wings clanking softly as they folded back to his sides. His chirps and clatters were almost comforting—a small, dependable presence in this world where your reality was controlled by someone else.

"I was kidding," you said, still laughing. "I doubt Sylus would take you apart…unless you needed repairs, of course." The name slipped out without thinking, and as it echoed in the quiet of the library, the memories hit you again. Sylus. A flash of his hand, the belt, the hot sting against your skin, the way he’d pressed you over his knee, his voice commanding you to count each one.

You grimaced, looking away from Mephisto’s gaze. That night had left marks deeper than the ones that had lingered on your skin. Afterward, he'd taken you back to bed, surprisingly gentle, almost reverent as he rubbed the soreness from your body. He’d whispered reassurances, tender words meant to soothe you, but in that moment, they had felt like salt on an open wound. You’d tried to forget, tried to dismiss it, but the ache of humiliation hadn’t faded. Instead, it had curdled into something else entirely: anger.

It wasn't a searing, uncontrollable rage, but a quiet, simmering fury that gnawed at you, coiled in your chest like a snake ready to strike. Yet, you held it in, biting your tongue, masking your resentment beneath a shield of silence. After that night, you'd slipped back into a quiet demeanor, speaking only when necessary, keeping your distance even though every step you took was still watched.

But you weren’t just simmering in silence. You were observing, studying. Because in the past few days, you’d noticed something—a small, almost imperceptible change in Sylus. Guilt. He’d been eyeing you with a tension that hadn’t been there before, a discomfort that prickled through his otherwise calm demeanor. He seemed unsettled by your silence, watching you from across the room as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

A faint smirk played at the corner of your lips as you remembered his hesitations, his barely concealed awkwardness. So he did feel guilt, didn’t he? Maybe he regretted it. Or maybe he was simply rattled by the fact that he couldn’t read you as easily now. Either way, you liked it. Liked the way he squirmed, the way he seemed to second-guess himself around you. In some twisted sense, it felt like a tiny shift in power, a thread you could pull in this tangled web he’d woven around you.

He had tried to punish you into submission, to make you feel weak, dependent. But here he was, trying to overcompensate with tender touches, soft gestures, careful words. It was almost…pathetic. And despite the bitterness that lingered, a part of you found satisfaction in watching him struggle to understand you, to keep you close while sensing that you were slipping further away.

As you sat there, flipping absentmindedly through the book, the quiet satisfaction of Sylus’s earlier disappointment still lingered in your mind. He’d been hovering around you constantly these last few days, like a shadow, reminding you of his love in every way he could. It was almost ridiculous.

He’d even asked if he could help brush your hair earlier that day, his voice soft, almost pleading. The memory of his face when you’d declined—when you’d turned back on him, shutting him out completely—filled you with a strange sense of victory. That small flash of disappointment in his eyes had been the sweetest thing you’d seen in days.

You smirked to yourself, turning another page, pretending to absorb the information, though the words meant little. It was just a diversion, something to focus on other than the reality you were stuck in. But just as you were settling into that small, rare bubble of contentment, a sharp ache twisted in your belly, breaking through your thoughts.

You winced, letting the book fall closed as your hand instinctively went to your stomach. The nausea had mostly faded over the past few days, but it left this lingering, annoying ache that wouldn’t quite let you forget the changes happening inside you. Occasionally it would rise back up, making you feel ill again.

Your body was shifting in subtle ways—your breasts felt heavier, more sensitive, and a dull tenderness lingered in your abdomen like a constant reminder. You knew it was early, far too early for anything major, but it was impossible to ignore.

Your thoughts were disrupted by the soft creak of the library door opening, and immediately, your body tensed, that momentary peace slipping away. Sylus stepped in, his presence filling the quiet room as he walked toward you, carrying a tray. You eyed him warily, your senses heightened, your guard instinctively rising as he approached. He placed the tray gently on the table in front of you, the delicate clinking of porcelain breaking the silence.

“It’s a new blend of tea,” he said, gesturing to the steaming cup. “Should help with the nausea. And I brought some cheese crackers—thought they might settle your stomach a bit.”

You glanced at the tea, the steam rising with a faint herbal scent that was slightly different from the others he’d tried. Another attempt at catering to your needs, trying to make you more comfortable, to win you over with small gestures. It irritated you, the way he kept trying, as if he could somehow ease you into this life with little acts of kindness.

Something inside you snapped, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out with a sharp edge.

“The others didn’t work, so I don’t know why you’re even bothering anymore.”

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he absorbed the sting of your words. For a brief moment, you saw the flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe a hint of hurt—as if he hadn’t expected you to respond so coldly. But then he sighed, letting out a slow breath, and a small, soft smile formed on his lips, his gaze settling back on you with that unyielding patience that had become all too familiar.

“I had this custom blended,” he replied, his voice calm, almost gentle. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll keep trying. I want you to be comfortable, sweetie.”

The way he said it, the soft undertone of care, twisted something uncomfortable in your chest. His eyes held that sad, pained look you’d seen lately, the one that almost made you feel…guilty. You hated that feeling, hated the way it gnawed at you, pulling at your resolve to remain distant, to shut him out completely. He looked so earnest, so willing to do whatever it took to make things easier for you, and for a split second, you questioned if you were being too harsh. Maybe…maybe you were being unfair.

But no. You quickly shoved that thought away. He was the one who had put you in this position, the one who had made it so you couldn’t leave, couldn’t live your own life. He deserved every bit of bitterness you threw his way. Still, the guilt lingered, a small, unwelcome presence in the back of your mind, and you had to fight to keep it from softening your expression.

“Fine,” you muttered, not meeting his gaze, focusing on the steam rising from the tea. “Thank you.” The words felt forced, hollow, but you forced yourself to say them, if only to keep up the fragile peace.

He studied you for a moment longer, as if weighing something unsaid, and then nodded, stepping back slightly to give you space. The sadness was still there in his eyes, that soft, wounded look that made your stomach twist, but he didn’t press any further. Instead, he simply watched you, a quiet patience in his gaze, as if waiting for something.

You took a hesitant sip of the tea, letting the warmth settle in your throat, trying to ignore the complicated mess of emotions churning inside you.

Sylus stood there, watching you, his gaze as unyielding as always, yet softer somehow, as though he were observing something precious and fragile. It unnerved you, the way he seemed to look straight through your façade, sensing the cracks in your resistance even if you tried to hide them. It felt like a silent challenge, one you were determined not to lose.

He shifted slightly, his presence filling the quiet room, making the air feel heavier. You kept your gaze fixed on the tea, willing yourself not to acknowledge him, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing the effect his nearness had on you. Yet, the guilt gnawed at you, undermining your resolve. Were you being too harsh? He had even gone as far as custom blending tea for you to feel better. He was a kidnapper...yes. But you could definitely be in worse hands right now.

Your fingers tightened around the cup as you tried to push those thoughts aside. You had a role to play, and you couldn’t let his gestures break through the wall you’d painstakingly built. But the effort was exhausting, the line between the real and the forced blurring in ways you hadn’t anticipated. A flash of that painful memory of the punishment surfaced, and you felt a surge of resentment flare up, fueling your determination to keep him at arm’s length.

The silence thickened between you, heavy and uncomfortable, as Sylus lingered in the room, his gaze unwavering. It was clear he was weighing his words, searching for something to break the tension. Finally, he spoke, his tone careful, almost regretful.

“I know it’s hard to understand, but I had to do what I did,” he said, his voice almost too even, as if he were convincing himself just as much as he was trying to convince you. You swallowed your frustration, choosing not to respond with the words that were boiling inside you. Instead, you offered a simple, lifeless, “Okay.” Your voice was so low, it was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to convey your disappointment.

You reached for another book, hoping to immerse yourself in its pages, if only to create some distance between you and him. But Sylus wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

He took a step closer, lowering himself to his knees in front of the armchair you were sitting in. He rested his hand on your knee, stroking it gently with his thumb in a slow, rhythmic motion, as if the act alone could soothe away the resentment you felt. You didn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead on the edge of the book cover, willing yourself not to let his touch affect you. But his fingers were tender, tracing small circles, almost too soft to ignore, and you could feel his gaze boring into you.

“Look at me, please,” he murmured, his hand moving to gently cup your chin. His fingers were firm, insistent, as he guided your face toward his. Your eyes met, and you felt a flush creep over your cheeks despite your best efforts to stay composed. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, the raw emotion there almost tangible. It was as if he genuinely believed that he could erase your anger with nothing more than words and a pleading look.

“I know you’re upset,” he began, his voice softer now, coaxing. “I do. But please…don’t force my hand like that again.”

The calmness in his words, the way he spoke as though the blame was somehow on you for “forcing” him, stoked a flicker of anger deep within. But instead of snapping back, you kept your expression neutral, letting the frustration settle into a sad, disappointed mask. You let out a shaky sigh, channeling your hurt, and then you forced a tremble into your voice, perfecting the mask.

“Whatever,” you murmured, your voice breaking just a little as you mustered the saddest expression you could. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy hurting me.”

The words hung in the air, cutting through his rationalizations, leaving him momentarily speechless. You saw a flicker of something—guilt, maybe, or shame—cross his face, and you knew you had struck a nerve. You took that opportunity to let your eyes glisten, to let your breath hitch as though you were struggling to hold back tears.

Yes. Play the part.

And then, with a soft, broken voice, you whispered, “You shouldn’t even be hitting me...what kind of man hits his pregnant fiancée?”

The question lingered, pressing into him with a weight that seemed to ripple through his composure. His face contorted briefly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of guilt and sadness that he couldn’t mask. He opened his mouth, as if to explain himself, but closed it again, clearly shaken by the accusation, by the reminder of your condition. His thumb traced your cheek gently, his touch almost desperate to communicate something he couldn’t find words for.

You had to fight the urge to smile, to laugh in his face. This was all too easy. The leader of Onychinus was on his knees in front of you, looking like he was about to cry himself.

“Sweetie…I’m—” he faltered, the words catching in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say, for something that could undo the hurt he’d caused. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his expression softening, the guilt in his eyes unmistakable now.

“What can I do to make this right?” he asked, his voice laced with a pleading sincerity, as though he believed he could truly make up for the pain he’d inflicted. “Just tell me. I want to make it up to you. Anything.”

You forced a tremulous breath, allowing the tears to flow freely, each one feeding into his remorse. Inside, a small satisfaction bloomed, knowing you had managed to twist the moment, to pull him into your web of hurt and guilt. And though you knew this game was a dangerous one, you couldn’t deny the satisfaction it brought—the power it gave you, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Anything...what a lie. He wouldn't grant you freedom no matter how many tears you shed.

You say nothing for a moment, letting the silence stretch out between you, the hint of vulnerability in your expression carefully calculated. “There…there are two things you could do to make it up to me,” you say softly, glancing up at him. His gaze remains fixed on you, searching, waiting, and you can tell he’s hoping you won't ask for freedom again.

“The first is simple,” you continue. “You already know what I used for my skincare routine before all this, don’t you?” You try to keep your voice calm, steady. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask for a few familiar things to feel like myself. It might even help me stay calm…for the baby’s sake.” You know your words will resonate with him, his protectiveness piqued by anything that touches on your well-being, especially now that you’re carrying his child.

He nods, a slight, almost relieved smile forming. You suspect he’s ready to agree—skincare seems harmless enough, and it lets him be the provider he so desperately wants to be.

“And…there��s one other thing.” Your voice softens, and you avert your gaze, letting a hint of hesitation show. “It’s about my friend, Tara.” You pause, allowing him to see the faint trace of sadness in your eyes. “She’s probably worried sick, not knowing where I am or if I’m okay. You know I wouldn’t ask to contact…anyone else. But Tara—she’s like a sister to me. She deserves a little peace of mind.”

Sylus’s expression darkens just slightly, his eyes narrowing. But you press on, seizing the opportunity to paint this as a small, reasonable request. “One text. Just one, letting her know I’m safe,” you say softly, giving him your most genuine, pleading look. “I won’t say anything about…where I am. It’ll only be enough to put her mind at ease. That’s all.”

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. You can feel the tension between the lines of his face, the conflict—his instinct to protect and control clashing with the guilt and love he professes for you. You know the second request is a risk, but you hope the weight of your sincerity, your quiet, calculated sadness, might tip the scales in your favor.

“Please, Sylus,” you add, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers brushing over his hand in a gentle, almost hesitant touch. “I…I just need this small bit of reassurance. It’s for me as much as it is for her.” You offer him a faint smile, one you hope conveys your gratitude before he’s even answered.

Sylus's chuckle, low and indulgent, makes your stomach churn. The nonchalance in his eyes as he agrees to retrieve your skincare products—the smallest concession—only serves to remind you of the careful control he wields over your life now.

"The skincare can be arranged," he says with a faint smile. "I do know precisely what you used.” His gaze flickers over you, and the possessiveness in his eyes is unmistakable. “I'll get it to you by tomorrow afternoon,” he adds smoothly. "Although, I expected you to ask for something much more expensive, kitten."

His words slice through the room, making you feel small, confined. Every hint of freedom feels more and more like an illusion—fragile, granted at his whim. He’s measuring your autonomy out in teaspoons, and it’s infuriating. You don’t even trust yourself to reply, opting instead for a nod, masking the fire burning beneath your skin.

Then Sylus leans closer, his presence unnervingly steady. "As for the message," he says, a note of warning hidden under the softness, "I’ll be the one to send it. We can’t risk any misunderstandings. So, what exactly would you like it to say?"

The way he speaks, with such casual control, prickles your nerves. You resist the urge to pull away, but inside, your mind races. Could you hide something in the message to Tara? A word or phrase that might signal her to read between the lines, something only she would catch? But the calculating look in Sylus’s eyes warns you against it; he’d dissect every word, weigh every syllable. He’d see it for what it was.

No, it’s too risky. You’re left with the crushing reality of speaking plainly, voicing words that hold no hidden message, no veiled meaning. You push down the urge to cry as you choose the only thing that’s true. “Just say, ‘I love you, and I hope to see you again someday. Be safe.’”

Sylus studies you, his gaze lingering in a way that feels almost searching, and it makes your skin prickle. He’s watching you as if he can read every corner of your mind, and you feel exposed under that gaze, as though every guarded thought you’ve carefully hidden from him is laid bare.

Finally, he nods, his lips curling slightly, though there’s a hint of something unfamiliar in his expression. Regret? Sympathy? Whatever it is, it softens his features, giving him an uncharacteristic look of understanding. "Consider it done," he says quietly, his voice gentler than before. The sudden kindness feels like a trap, and you force yourself not to flinch. You need his cooperation, not his pity.

Your mind fixates on those words you gave him for Tara. They were true but so deeply lacking—lacking the message you really wanted to send, the cry for help, the reassurance that you hadn’t forgotten her, that you hadn’t stopped fighting. If you closed your eyes, you could picture her, the bright laugh, the fierce loyalty that once made you feel like you could conquer anything. Now, she has no idea you’re here. No idea you’re alive, or that your feelings are anything but willing compliance with this nightmare.

Sylus’s eyes remain on you, watching with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. He must know the weight of that message, the way you lingered on the words, and yet he says nothing more. His expression shifts back into that small smile, one that’s equally disconcerting in its familiarity.

"You’ve made your requests, sweetie. And I always keep my promises."

You nod, carefully curving your lips into a soft, appreciative smile, one you hope is convincing enough. You’ve come to understand how much he wants this—forgiveness, approval, a glimmer of genuine affection from you, even if it's earned through carefully controlled gestures and scripted apologies.

You decide to play into it, leaning in slightly, letting your fingers reach out to brush his shoulder. His gaze sharpens, and you don’t miss the faint flicker of surprise in his eyes. "I really appreciate it, Sylus," you say, keeping your voice gentle, measured. "I appreciate your apology, and…I'm sorry, too. For…you know."

The words leave a bitter taste on your tongue, but you watch him as you say them, feeling the satisfaction of seeing him visibly relax under your touch. He’s buying it. You let your fingers rest on his shoulder a moment longer, steady and light, feeling the warmth of his skin even through his shirt, and you can tell he’s holding onto this moment, savoring it like he’s finally achieved something.

Sylus’s hand comes up, covering yours where it rests on his shoulder, his touch firm yet careful, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. There’s a softness in his gaze that he’s allowing you to see, something vulnerable, almost human, and it stirs a flicker of unease in you. He looks down at you with a warmth that, for anyone else, might’ve felt comforting. But here, in this twisted captivity, it only unsettles you further.

“I’m glad,” he says softly, his voice low, steady, layered with something like relief. "You have no idea how much that means, honey."

You nod, adding just a touch of warmth to your smile, though your mind races, pushing down every impulse to recoil. This is a game, and you are still in control, holding the pieces that he doesn’t realize you’re wielding. For every moment he thinks you’re softened, for every moment he believes in your forgiveness, you gain a small advantage—a little more leverage, a little more understanding of what he needs to hear. It’s your best tool, and it will be your best weapon.

“I really do appreciate it,” you repeat, your tone gentle but with just the faintest hint of reluctance, a subtle suggestion that, while you’re willing to forgive, it’s not that easy. And, as you expect, he nods, his grip on your hand tightening as if he can feel the tentative trust in your words.

“I promise," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. “And I’m going to prove to you that things can be different. I won’t let you down.”

You simply nod again, suppressing the triumph blooming inside you as he leans down to capture your lips with his own, keeping your expression soft, sincere. He’s slipping right into your hand. And as much as he might think he’s gaining ground, the truth is clear: the longer he craves your forgiveness, the more power you hold over him.

The next few days slipped by with a tentative quietness, a calm that felt almost unnatural given everything that had come before. Sylus, perhaps out of some desire to prove his newfound leniency, had been giving you more freedom around the house. He hadn’t loosened his control entirely—Mephisto, continued to tail you wherever you went, always watching with that artificial gleam in his eye—but you felt a hint of ease in this small expansion of your world.

Sylus would come and go for his business ventures but would always be back before you went to bed. Luke or Kieran would come shackle you before you laid down. You had gotten used to the sound of Sylus coming home late, and therefore wouldn't jump when he entered the room anymore.

For the most part, you spent your days drifting through different rooms, occasionally finding a moment of peace by the pool. Sitting on its edge, you let your feet dangle in the cool water, relishing the gentle lapping at your toes. The water was refreshing, a reminder of the world outside these walls, yet every time you looked across the shimmering surface, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being in a gilded cage. The pool, the luxurious house, even Mephisto—they were beautiful distractions, seemingly crafted just so you’d feel a little more at ease.

One morning, as you sat by the pool, lost in thought, you felt the earth tilt under you. You’d leaned forward too far, distracted, and in a heartbeat, you teetered toward the water, hands flailing instinctively. But before you could feel the shock of cold water on your skin, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back from the edge.

“Careful there,” Sylus murmured, his voice close to your ear, almost too close. His grip was firm, secure, and for a brief moment, you found yourself enveloped in his warmth, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath. His touch, though stabilizing, sent a chill up your spine—a reminder of his constant presence. The effect of his nearness was disorienting, an odd blend of repulsion and reluctant comfort.

You steadied yourself, offering a polite, if somewhat forced, smile. “Thanks,” you muttered, pulling back just slightly to regain a sense of distance.

He held your gaze a moment longer, his red eyes lingering on you before he finally released his hold, still keeping close. “You’re welcome,” he said, the ghost of a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. “Be a little more aware, honey. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you…or the little one,” he added, resting a hand briefly on your shoulder, as if to underscore the sentiment.

A shiver ran down your spine at the mention of the baby, and you gave a quick nod, hoping he wouldn’t notice your discomfort.

Later that day, after you’d drifted from room to room, you found yourself drawn to the back of the property where the horse track lay. Sylus stayed close, of course, ever watchful, and despite the open space, you were aware of the subtle tension in his stance. Even with this seemingly mundane activity, you felt the weight of his concern, his subtle but constant reminder of the boundaries you couldn’t cross. Still, being around the horses provided a certain comfort. You took solace in their calm, the way they seemed indifferent to the trappings of wealth and control, caring only for the simple pleasures of grazing or being gently stroked along their necks.

Occasionally, the small colony of stray cats that Sylus fed would wander by, brushing up against your legs as if sensing you needed the comfort. You couldn’t help but smile at their easy affection, nuzzling each one and reveling in the softness of their fur. Often, you’d find yourself sitting among them, surrounded by their quiet purrs, letting their gentle presence lull you into moments of peace. Some afternoons, you even dared to nap, letting the steady rise and fall of their breaths ground you as they curled up beside you.

One day, as you reached out to pet one of the cats, something caught your eye—a small, wriggling bundle in the mouth of the one-eyed cat you’d grown fond of. It was a kitten, tiny and helpless, being carefully brought over and placed at your feet. Your heart leaped with joy, your earlier wariness momentarily forgotten.

“Sylus…I think she had a baby!” you exclaimed, unable to contain the excitement that bubbled up within you.

Sylus moved closer, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of the little creature squirming at your feet. He crouched down, reaching out a finger to gently stroke the kitten, his usually hardened features softened by an unexpected fondness.

“Honestly, I thought she was just putting on a few pounds,” he chuckled, his tone light, affectionate. He then looked up at you, his eyes holding a warmth that was both foreign and oddly comforting.

“Y’know, we’ll have our own little kitten eventually,” he murmured, glancing toward your stomach with an almost reverent look.

The comment brought you crashing back to reality, your thoughts swirling with the complexity of emotions his words had stirred up. While a part of you wanted to bask in the innocence of the moment, another part—the part that knew what was truly happening—resisted. The casual way he mentioned the life growing inside you, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, left you feeling both vulnerable and trapped.

Forcing a smile, you managed to nod, hoping the mask you wore was convincing. “Yeah…I guess we will,” you replied softly, willing yourself to stay composed.

He reached out, as if to touch your belly, but his hand hovered just inches away before he drew it back, his eyes lingering on you with a quiet intensity that left your heart pounding.

The subtle tension pulled you under like a rising tide, your thoughts swirling in relief as Sylus’s hand withdrew before it could actually reach you. You felt a blend of anticipation and unease, tangled together and bubbling just beneath the surface. It was unmistakable, this tension that had grown between you—something unspoken but palpable, simmering in each shared glance and lingering moment.

The idea of sex with him was out of the question, a boundary you were clear on. Yet, weeks spent in close quarters had made his small gestures impossible to overlook: the way his gaze lingered a second too long, his hand brushed yours just a bit too tenderly, his voice softened at the edges when he spoke to you. Each moment of near contact, every stolen look, hinted at a desire to have you that he seemed barely able to keep in check.

You tried to pretend it didn’t matter, to ignore what was slowly becoming an invisible tether. But with each passing day, that denial grew harder to maintain, becoming an itch you couldn’t quite soothe, a discomfort that gnawed at you. You needed to dispel the strange energy in the room, to shift away before he could notice the flicker of discomfort creeping onto your face.

Clearing your throat, you latched onto the first topic you could think of, hoping to ground the moment in something neutral. “You know,” you began casually, gesturing toward the kittens sprawled nearby, “you might want to think about getting them fixed. Before long, you’ll be overrun.” You forced a laugh, trying to punctuate your words with a lightness that might draw the attention away from anything unspoken lingering between you.

Sylus’s lips curved into a small smile, his eyes holding a hint of amusement as he glanced at the cluster of tabbies lounging without a care in the world. He looked at you knowingly, almost as if he could sense the undercurrent in your attempt to deflect.

“I’m already on it,” he replied, nodding toward the lounging felines. “Those over there have already been fixed,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But don’t let them fool you—catching them is no easy task. Cats…they’re smarter than people give them credit for.”

You studied his face as he spoke, noticing how, in that moment, he seemed to let down some unseen guard. The lines of tension softened in his expression, and for a fleeting second, he was just a man preoccupied with the everyday quirks of stray cats and unexpected litters. It still struck you as ironic that while he allowed these cats the freedom to roam, choosing to come and go as they pleased, you were bound, kept within limits he had drawn for you.

You offered a smile, hiding the deeper thoughts swirling behind it, and nodded with feigned interest. “I can imagine. They don’t look like the type to enjoy being scooped up.”

He laughed again, the sound soft and warm, and his eyes flickered from the cats back to you. His gaze held a gentleness you weren’t accustomed to, the previous intensity mellowing into something almost… affectionate. For a moment, the energy between you softened, and you felt the tension ease, just a little.

Still, even as you tried to sink into the calm, the awareness of his control pressed back in. While these cats moved freely, you remained tethered, your own freedom confined to the borders he had drawn.

The irony stung. Here you were, expected to play the part, to act as though these were the quiet comforts of home when, in truth, you were as far from freedom as you could possibly be.

He watched you, his gaze unwavering, and when you looked up, you caught that same intense look in his eyes—the one that seemed to see straight through you. The moment stretched, a silent exchange that felt both intimate and suffocating, until finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady.

“You know, I can’t help but imagine you like this,” he said, his tone softer. “With the baby. I can’t wait to see you holding them for the first time.”

The words sent a shock through you. He’d said things like this before, of course, always circling back to the future he envisioned, to his idea of a life together. But this time, his words felt heavier, as though he was trying to pull you into his world with just his voice.

You go quiet, letting the weight of his words linger in the space between you, the silence feeling heavy, almost suffocating. But you catch yourself quickly, swallowing down the discomfort and giving him the smile he wants to see—small, perhaps a touch hesitant, but accepting. It’s a practiced look, one that says you’re trying to come to terms with the future he envisions, the family he’s insistent on building. Sylus’s gaze softens as he watches you, a flicker of satisfaction passing over his face, as if he’s found what he’s been searching for in your expression.

Then, with a surprising gentleness, he reaches up and ruffles your hair, his hand lingering in your hair longer than expected. The casual touch catches you off guard, stirring a mix of emotions you quickly push down. He’s clearly pleased, his fingers curling ever so slightly as if savoring the moment. It’s both unnerving and strangely comforting—he seems almost normal, like a man simply doting on someone he loves. But before you can react, the sharp buzz of his phone shatters the illusion.

Sylus glances at the screen, his entire demeanor shifting as he lifts it to his ear, his voice cool and businesslike. “Mhm. Understood. Rest up,” he says briskly, then lowers the phone, his eyes flicking back to you with a sigh.

“Looks like the chef called in sick,” he says, his serious expression melting into a wry grin. “Seems we’re on our own for dinner tonight, kitten.”

You arch an eyebrow, folding your arms as you try to stifle a laugh as you follow him from the back and into the kitchen. Its nothing short of your expectations. Luxurious, large and stocked with every appliance one could think of using when making meals.

Glossy white marble countertops, streaked with subtle veins of gray, stretch across expansive islands and counters, catching the light from oversized pendant lamps hanging from above. Each light fixture is a custom piece, gleaming softly like jewelry against the sleek cabinetry.

Cabinets, painted a deep, sophisticated charcoal, line the walls from floor to ceiling, their polished brass handles catching glints of light. A double-door refrigerator with a matte stainless-steel finish stands beside a wine cooler and a large, commercial-grade range with six burners and a griddle. Above the range, an ornate, custom range hood extends up to the ceiling, adorned with decorative trim that gives it the look of an art installation.

In the center, a large marble island offers a second sink and ample prep space, surrounded by plush, high-backed bar stools upholstered in soft, gray velvet. The island’s edges are illuminated by under-cabinet lighting, creating a warm glow that makes the polished marble shine even more.

A walk-in pantry with frosted glass doors is tucked away near the far side, while a small but luxurious coffee bar complete with an espresso machine and built-in grinder shine on its surface.

You'd never seen a kitchen as luxurious as this and you're almost at a loss for words.

“Oh, so does that mean you’ll be cooking?” you tease, pretending to eye him with skepticism.

He raises an eyebrow in response, clearly entertained by your challenge. “Don’t look so doubtful. I’m more than capable of whipping up a meal.” His smirk broadens, a glint of mischief in his gaze.

You can’t help but play along, an idea forming in the back of your mind. “Well, I suppose we’ll see. Do we have ingredients for chicken soup?” you ask, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

“Chicken soup?” he repeats, looking amused. “So simple. Are you having cravings already?” He chuckles softly, as if the thought brings him a kind of joy, and for a moment, the tension between you both seems to ease.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of unexpected warmth in your chest, despite yourself. “It’s not that,” you say, forcing a light tone. “It’s just…my mom used to make it for me whenever I was sick. You know, one of those little comforts from home.”

Sylus makes a sound of acknowledgment, clearly pleased, and moves to the fridge, pulling out ingredients with a kind of confidence that surprises you. He sets a small pile of vegetables, herbs, and chicken on the counter, glancing over his shoulder with a playful challenge.

He nods thoughtfully, studying you with an intensity that makes you look away, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I think we have everything,” he says finally, going back over to the fridge and pulling out a few large containers of chicken broth, setting them on the counter with practiced care.

As he starts prepping, a thought crosses your mind. You know he craves this—normalcy, a sense of domesticity with you—and an idea takes hold. “Do you need help?” you ask, your voice soft, as though you’re hesitant, like this is something you’re warming up to. You can almost feel the excitement radiating off him as he glances up, his gaze softening further. He hands you a cutting board and some carrots, guiding you with a gentle but steady hand.

“Of course,” he says warmly. “I’d like that”, his voice genuine, as if this simple act of cooking together is all he’s been waiting for.

You focus on slicing the carrots, keeping your expression neutral, hiding the mix of emotions stirring within you. There’s a strange satisfaction in this, playing along with his fantasy, leaning into the role he so desperately wants you to fill. It’s a small game of control, one that lets you feel as if you’re guiding his emotions, that you have the upper hand in some way.

As you work side by side, you notice the quietness that falls between you both. He’s absorbed in his task, his movements focused and practiced. It’s strange, seeing him in this light, like a regular person preparing dinner. You catch him glancing at you now and then, a softness in his gaze, as if this scene holds something precious for him.

You feel a strange mix of relief and trepidation as you move beside him, trying to focus on the simple, rhythmic actions of chopping vegetables, feeling his presence close but silent, as if he, too, is trying to take in this unexpected moment. You settle into the process, carefully slicing carrots as you think back to the countless times you’ve made this soup before, that comforting aroma filling the kitchen, the memory of your mother’s gentle hands guiding yours through the motions.

But just as you fall into the rhythm, a sharp sting jerks you out of your thoughts. You glance down, seeing the thin line of red blossoming on your finger where the knife slipped.

“Ah,” you hiss quietly, pulling your hand back instinctively.

The sound catches Sylus’s attention immediately, and he’s springing to action in an instant, his fingers wrapping around your wrist before you can react. His grip is firm, almost protective, as he pulls your hand closer, inspecting the small wound. “Let me see,” he murmurs, his voice low, and there’s an edge of concern in his tone that makes your heart skip.

“It’s nothing, really,” you say quickly, trying to brush it off, but he doesn’t release his hold. He keeps his gaze fixed on the cut, his jaw tight. Then, to your surprise, he lifts your hand, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before he leans forward, bringing your bloodied finger to his mouth.

Your breath catches, and a sharp heat floods through you as his lips press around the tip of your finger, the warmth of his mouth searing against your skin. The sensation is foreign, overwhelming—something that tugs at a deep, visceral part of you that you didn’t know was there. His tongue brushes over the cut, gentle but deliberate, sending a shiver up your spine as he holds your gaze, his eyes dark and focused.

You can feel your pulse racing, your face growing warm, and your thoughts scatter, leaving you with only the sensation of his mouth on your skin, his hand steady around yours. “W-What are you…” you manage, but your voice comes out barely a whisper.

He pulls back, his expression a mix of smug amusement and something unreadable. “Relax,” he says softly, as if sensing your reaction. “Just making sure it’s clean. Can’t have you getting an infection.”

You’re left momentarily speechless, caught between anger and something dangerously close to longing. You pull your hand back, clutching it to your chest as if to protect yourself from the lingering warmth of his touch. It’s just a shallow cut, you remind yourself, trying to ground yourself in the present, to shake off the spell he cast with that simple, unsettlingly intimate act.

But he’s still watching you, a small smirk playing on his lips as he reaches for a first aid kit from a nearby drawer. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he teases, and though his words are light, there’s a glint of satisfaction in his gaze, as if he’s pleased with himself for getting under your skin.

You feel a surge of irritation, mixed with something you can’t quite identify, as you sit down on a stool, your face still warm. “Just…just don’t do that again,” you mutter, unable to meet his eyes as you try to regain your composure. You can feel his eyes on you, his gaze heavy, almost probing, but you refuse to look up, focusing on the sting of the bandage he wraps around your finger instead.

“All right, kitten,” he says quietly, his voice softer now, and you can sense a hint of genuine concern beneath his teasing tone. He finishes wrapping the bandage, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary before he pulls back, giving you space.

The room feels strangely charged, each movement laden with a tension that wasn’t there before. You glance down at your bandaged finger, the pulse of heat still lingering, and as you return to your place beside him, you find it harder than ever to pretend that his presence doesn’t affect you.

Focusing back on the vegetables, the silence stretches between you and Sylus once more, thick with the lingering tension from his unexpected tenderness over your cut. You reach for the celery, forcing yourself to focus, to forget the strange heat that his touch left on your skin. Sylus picks up a wooden spoon, stirring the pot of simmering broth in measured, careful movements. The kitchen fills with the warm aroma of vegetables and chicken stock, a comforting scent that feels like a foreign softness in the middle of everything.

You turn to chop more carrots, sneaking glances at him out of the corner of your eye. Sylus works with a quiet focus, his hands moving deftly as he adds in herbs—thyme, rosemary, a bay leaf—all carefully chosen to infuse the soup with warmth and flavor. You’re mildly impressed, watching him as he handles the ingredients with ease, as if cooking a simple chicken soup were second nature to him.

“So, what next?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light, as though you hadn’t just felt your heart racing minutes ago.

“Let’s get the chicken in,” he replies, his voice smooth as he gestures to the bowl of shredded chicken. “Then, we’ll let everything simmer together. Low and slow—no shortcuts.”

You pick up a spoon, gently stirring in the chicken, careful to incorporate it with the vegetables and broth. You watch the pieces swirl in the liquid, the broth turning a deeper golden as it absorbs the flavor. The quiet of the moment lets you drift, lulled by the comforting warmth rising from the stove.

“Keep stirring,” he murmurs beside you, his voice low, yet calm. His hand rests lightly on your shoulder, steadying you as you stand beside him, and his presence radiates a calmness that feels almost strange. The heat of the kitchen, the weight of his hand, it all leaves you feeling slightly off-balance.

As you continue to stir, you can’t help but let out a small sigh, the scent of the soup bringing memories flooding back—nights when your mom would make soup, humming softly to herself as she worked, the warmth filling the kitchen as you watched her move around. You close your eyes briefly, trying to savor the familiarity of it, the sense of home it brings, even if just for a moment.

You miss her. Before everything happened all those years ago.

When you open your eyes, Sylus is looking at you, his expression softened. “Thinking about something?” he asks, his voice gentle, almost curious.

You nod, hesitating. “Just…a memory,” you say softly, not wanting to share too much, but feeling a strange pull to let him see this small piece of you. What would explaining do anyway? Knowing him he probably knew all about your family.

“Of course,” he says, his tone understanding, and his hand falls away from your shoulder. “Let’s finish this up, then. You’ll get to taste it soon.”

He leans over, reaching for a sprig of parsley, and his shoulder brushes against yours. The touch sends a spark through you, one you try to ignore as he drops the herb into the soup. You watch the parsley swirl, each piece turning a vibrant green against the rich broth, and Sylus gives the pot one last, slow stir.

After a few more minutes of simmering, he dips a spoon into the soup, tasting it thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in concentration. He tilts his head, considering the flavor, before nodding in approval.

“Try it,” he says, offering you the spoon. His eyes are intent on you, watching for your reaction, as if he’s waiting to see if this small gesture will please you.

You take the spoon, tasting the soup. The broth is rich and comforting, each flavor melding together in a way that surprises you. The herbs, the chicken, the vegetables—they all work together to create something warm, soothing. You feel a rush of unexpected gratitude, a softness you hadn’t prepared for.

Not quite like your moms, but overwhelmingly delicious.

“It’s…good,” you say, unable to hide the small, genuine smile that crosses your face.

Sylus smiles back, his expression softening as he watches you. “I’m glad you like it,” he says quietly, his voice laced with an almost tender pride. For a moment, everything feels surreal, as if this is all part of a different reality—one where you aren’t trapped, one where this is just a simple, shared meal between two people finding comfort in each other’s company.

“Let’s serve it,” he says finally, breaking the silence. He ladles the soup into bowls, each one filled to the brim with steaming broth, the colors vibrant and inviting.

You carry your bowl to the living room table, settling down beside him on the couch. For the first time in a while, you feel a genuine sense of warmth as you both start to eat, the flavors filling the silence between you in a way that words can’t. It’s strange, this fleeting moment of peace, of almost normalcy. You savor it, even as you remind yourself not to get too comfortable.

You take another slow bite of the soup, savoring the comforting warmth and letting it settle over you. It’s surprisingly good, and for a moment, you’re tempted to get lost in the simple pleasure of a warm meal. You glance over at Sylus, who’s watching you with a soft expression, looking far more at ease than he usually does. There’s a gentleness in his gaze, an almost tender quality that contrasts sharply with the hardened exterior you’ve grown used to at times.

Taking the opportunity to lighten the mood further, you decide to test the waters. “So,” you say, a teasing note in your voice, “am I going to be cooking dinner every night with a baby on my hip? Is that what you’re planning?”

Sylus’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he sets his bowl down and leans back slightly, looking at you with genuine warmth. He chuckles, clearly entertained by the thought. “No, kitten,” he murmurs, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. "Not even close.”

A little surprised, you raise an eyebrow. “Wait, really?”

“Why would I ever want you to take on any of that?” he says with a soft laugh, his expression affectionate as he looks at you. “Why should you waste your energy cooking and cleaning, especially with everything else going on? We have people here to help with those things.”

You blink, a bit taken aback by his answer. He says it with such sincerity, as if the notion of you doing any kind of work around the house is ridiculous. It’s almost hard to believe, this view he seems to have of you—not just as someone to take care of, but as someone he wants to shield from any kind of hardship or responsibility. He’s looking at you with something deeper than affection. It's almost as if he’s envisioning a life where your only focus is happiness and peace.

“So…” you say, letting the thought linger, “if I’m not cooking or cleaning, what exactly am I supposed to do?”

He leans forward, his eyes never leaving yours, and brushes a strand of hair back behind your ear, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary. “I just want you to be happy. Be the mother to our child, be here with me,” he says softly, his voice thick with warmth. “And everything else? Let me worry about that. All I need is for you to never leave and stay with me. You’ve already given me so much.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that catches you off guard, a rawness in the way he looks at you that goes beyond mere attraction. You’d half expected him to laugh off your question, but his answer is so direct, so heartfelt, that it leaves you momentarily speechless. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the quiet reverence in his eyes, as if he’s seeing every part of you and cherishing it.

"So have your baby and...be happy?"

He nods, picking up the glass of wine he's been sipping on to accompany his dinner. "And be as cute as you already are. So far, you're doing a flawless job, honey".

You manage a soft smile, trying to mask the complexity of emotions swirling inside you. His words are both reassuring and overwhelming in their intensity, a reminder of how deeply he’s bound you into this vision of a life together. There’s relief in knowing that he doesn’t see you as just a homemaker but rather as someone he truly values. And yet, that value comes with expectations, responsibilities that feel no less heavy despite the tender way he presents them.

“Wow,” you murmur, keeping your voice light to mask the turmoil within. “Sounds like a dream job.”

Sylus smiles at you, a look of profound satisfaction in his eyes as he reaches over, lightly squeezing your hand. “It’s not a job, sweetheart. It’s a life, a future. One we’re building together.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, you feel the full weight of his sincerity, a devotion that’s almost overwhelming.

The warmth of his hand, the steadiness of his gaze—it’s as if he’s pouring every bit of his affection into this moment, giving you a glimpse of the life he’s crafted in his mind. You glance down, your fingers tightening around the spoon as you take another sip of soup, using it as a shield to give yourself a moment to breathe, to process everything he’s just said. You know you’re still treading a thin line, but in this moment, you can almost believe that you’re safe, that he won’t ask for more than you can give.

For now, you’ll let him hold onto this vision, this gentle world he’s trying to build around you, while you keep the part of yourself that’s planning for a different future carefully tucked away.

You glance over at Sylus’s glass, the amber liquid catching the light in a way that makes it look particularly inviting. The warmth of the room, the gentle clinking of cutlery, and the surprisingly cozy vibe of the evening—it all feels surreal. Before you know it, the words slip out, half-joking but with a tinge of genuine longing.

“That wine…I bet that would taste amazing right about now,” you murmur, giving him a sly look. You know he’d never let you drink while you’re pregnant, but there’s a boldness bubbling up inside you, a playfulness that feels oddly freeing. You figure you might as well test the waters while you’re both in a relaxed mood.

Sylus pauses, the glass halfway to his lips, and raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. A chuckle escapes him, low and warm, and he shakes his head. “Nice try, sweetie,” he says, his tone filled with affection. “But you know better than that.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning back in your seat with a mock pout. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

His laughter deepens, a rich, genuine sound that resonates through the room. He takes another sip, savoring it slowly, almost as if to tease you with it. “Tell you what,” he says, setting the glass down with a quiet clink, his eyes meeting yours. “Once the little one arrives, I’ll have a whole case of the finest wine waiting for you. Consider it a gift for giving me my first child. Something truly extravagant.”

You can’t help but let a small smile tug at your lips. “You mean it?” There’s a flicker of surprise in your voice, mixed with a touch of excitement at the thought of a small indulgence waiting for you on the other side of this. Not that it would matter. You didn't plan to wait around long enough for this gift.

“Absolutely,” he says, his expression softening. “Only the best for you.”

The way he says it makes you feel as though he’s not just talking about the wine, and for a moment, the intensity in his gaze is enough to make you forget where you are, who he is, and why you’re here. It’s both comforting and unsettling, this unexpected tenderness.

You look away, letting your fingers toy idly with your spoon. “I look forward to it then,” you reply softly, the weight of his words lingering in the space between you.

The warmth of the room and the low hum of the TV slowly lulled you into a comfortable haze, the day’s events blending into the soft murmur of the late-night talk show on the screen. Before you realized it, your eyelids grew heavy, and the world around you blurred and faded into sleep.

When you stir awake, it’s just for a moment—a brief awareness of being lifted, cradled against Sylus’s chest. His arms are steady as he carries you, his steps measured and gentle, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the peace you’ve drifted into. You’re too tired to care, and the gesture isn’t exactly new, so you let your head rest against him, slipping back into that comfortable in-between state of semi-consciousness.

As he reaches the room and places you on the bed, you feel the familiar cool metal of the shackle as he carefully clasps it around your ankle. There’s a strange mix of acceptance and resignation that settles over you; it’s routine by now, and you’ve learned that resistance will get you nowhere. You don’t stir, barely opening your eyes as you feel the slight weight and coldness against your skin.

Sylus’s hand lingers just a moment longer than it should, his fingers brushing your ankle lightly as if apologizing without words. Then he straightens, watching you as though ensuring you’re comfortable, or perhaps just reluctant to leave. The silence stretches for a beat before he adjusts the blanket over you, tucking it in gently.

Drifting back to sleep, you feel the faintest, fleeting touch of his hand on your hair, his voice a low, barely audible murmur. “Goodnight, sweetie.” And then he’s gone, leaving you in the silence, shackled and resting, your heart and mind caught in that strange place between comfort and captivity.

A chill snakes up your spine, a subtle pull dragging you from sleep’s warm grasp. Something’s wrong. You stir, confused, only half-awake when a voice—a low, familiar, male voice cuts through the haze.

“Hey…it’s kinda cold. Could you let go of the blanket a little?”

Sylus? No...not Sylus.

The familiarity of it pulls you fully awake, and you snap your eyes open, blinking at the darkness. But then, as your vision sharpens, you see him. Reese. He’s lying beside you, facing you on the bed, his face turned just enough for you to catch the black, oozing gunshot wound in his head, gaping open and slick with blood. A trickle of it slides down his cheek, soaking the sheets under him, dark and thick.

Your body freezes, a scream clawing at your throat, but no sound comes out. Your breath is trapped, the air around you thick and cold, chilling you from the inside out. How is this possible? He’s dead—he’s dead, but here he is, lying next to you, close enough to reach out and touch.

“What’s with the face?” His voice is casual, irritated. “Didn’t you hear me? It’s cold.”

You shake your head weakly, trying to focus, to convince yourself this isn’t real. But his face—the wound, the blood—is horribly vivid, every detail clear. You close your eyes, muttering to yourself, “Y-you’re not real…you’re not real…” as if repeating it will somehow pull you out of this nightmare.

Reese laughs, a low, mocking sound that makes your blood run colder. “Not real?” His tone is twisted, bitter. “First, you can’t take responsibility for your actions, and now I’m just…what? A figment of your imagination?”

You can barely hold his gaze, the look in his eyes dark and hollow, yet piercing, accusatory. You’re rooted to the bed, every muscle locked, your body paralyzed as his words sink in, hitting deeper than you’d like to admit. You want to move, to pull away, but you’re pinned, helpless under the weight of his presence.

“Do I matter so little to you?” he asks, voice rising in anger, his tone laced with a venom that sends a new wave of terror coursing through you. He leans closer, blood oozing from his wound, seeping down to your skin. Warm, sticky drops spatter across your cheek, and you can feel them trailing down, clinging to your skin like a brand.

“Tell me,” he demands, his voice filled with rage. “Did I deserve that end? Was I so bad?”

You try to shake your head, to deny it, but the words stick in your throat, the fear, the shock smothering you. All you manage is a strangled gasp, your eyes wide and desperate as he stares you down, inching closer, his face twisted with fury, with a pain that cuts straight through you.

“I wasn’t a bad guy,” he whispers, his tone shifting, softer, but somehow worse—a wounded, broken sound that cuts deeper than the anger. “I just had…problems. But now...I'm dead. And its all your fault.”

The blood continues to flow, more of it now, as if the wound has deepened, spilling down his face, soaking into the sheets, covering the bed, drenching everything. You can feel it spreading, thick and suffocating, seeping into your skin, binding you in place. It’s pulling you down, drowning you in the darkness, and all you can do is lie there, trapped, helpless, as Reese’s voice echoes around you.

You want to scream, to claw your way out, to breathe—but there’s only the blood, the suffocating weight, the feeling of it pulling you deeper, filling your lungs. You’re sinking, slipping into darkness, your vision blurring as his words fade, replaced by silence.

You jolt awake, eyes flying open, heart racing as you lie there, paralyzed in the dark. The weight of the nightmare still clings to you, thick and suffocating, every inch of your skin damp with sweat. Reese’s voice, his blood-smeared face, feels too close, too real. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the image to fade, to dissolve back into the shadows where it belongs. Just a dream, you remind yourself, swallowing hard. It was just a dream.

Beside you, Sylus stirs. He must have fallen asleep only recently; he’s been on edge these past days, slipping into quick naps whenever he can. His arm rests lightly over you, and you feel it tighten as you shift slightly, trying to push away the fear that lingers like a shadow.

“You’re a little damp,” his voice murmurs softly, his hand moving to your shoulder, steadying you. His eyes open, just a glimmer in the darkness, and they narrow slightly as he takes in your expression, the remnants of fear etched into your features. “Too hot?” he asks, his voice low and concerned.

You barely manage a nod, still shaken. His eyes soften, and his thumb begins tracing slow, soothing circles on your shoulder. His presence, the gentle rhythm of his touch, begins to pull you back from the brink of the nightmare, grounding you.

“Bad dream again?” he whispers, a touch of worry slipping through.

You swallow, nodding as your voice comes out in a whisper, raw and unsteady. “It’s…I’m okay. Just…him again.”

For a moment, the words hang heavy between you. You hadn’t planned on confiding in him, on letting him see even a fraction of the fear that holds you captive. But in the quiet of the dark room, he’s the only thing grounding you, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder, his gaze steady.

Sylus doesn’t push you, doesn’t press for details. Instead, he offers a quiet reassurance, his voice almost a murmur. “You’re safe,” he says, the words warm and soothing. “Whatever you’re seeing… it’s in the past. I won't let that happen to you again.”

You feel the weight of his words settle over you, anchoring you as the last shreds of the nightmare begin to slip away. You don’t pull away, instead letting his calm presence ease the terror that had gripped you moments before. His hand stays on your shoulder, offering a comfort you hadn’t expected but don’t reject, not now.

Breathing slowly, you finally let your body relax, the familiar fear fading.

Sylus’s voice was gentle, almost coaxing, as he reminded you, “You know you can always talk to me if you need to. I’m here.” His eyes held that soft patience, as if he were waiting for you to finally accept his care. But he didn’t push further. You simply nodded, giving a small, hollow smile. “I think I’ll take a shower,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He nodded, pulling back, watching you slip toward the bathroom as the chain around your ankle rattled softly against the floor. The instant you disappear into the bathroom, you exhaled, bracing yourself against the sink for a moment as the weight of everything washed over you. Stripping off your clothes, you stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over you as though it could erase the turmoil inside.

The warmth of the spray brought you a brief sense of calm, a moment of escape as you let the tension in your muscles release. You closed your eyes, letting the water course down your skin, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare and the reality you were stuck in. It was easy, at least for a few minutes, to let your mind drift, to imagine yourself somewhere else entirely.

As you dried off, wrapping yourself in a towel, a sharp, unexpected pain twisted low in your abdomen. You clutched your stomach, wincing as the ache pulsed for a moment before ebbing away. When you looked up, your reflection in the tall mirror across the room caught your eye. There, your gaze drifted to something you’d been avoiding for weeks—a slight but undeniable curve, a small but visible bump.

Your heart skipped a beat, panic clawing at you. No, no… this isn’t happening. You weren't showing yesterday...no way you grew overnight? Right?

Turning to the side, you ran your hand over the curve, hoping it would somehow disappear, that maybe this was some strange trick of the light, an illusion cast by the shadows in the dim bathroom. But it was real—solid and unyielding under your touch, a soft, foreign shape that hadn’t been there before. The life growing inside you, forced upon you in this gilded cage. There was no more pretending, no more denial. The truth stared back at you, a relentless reminder of everything you’d tried to escape.

Your mind raced, spiraling with thoughts, each one sharper than the last. What am I going to do? The question echoed in your mind, louder and louder. How could you bring a child into this world, trapped here, bound to a man who held you against your will? How could you even begin to reconcile the love that was expected of you with the resentment boiling beneath the surface?

And yet…

Somewhere, buried beneath the panic, there was a flicker of something else. A faint, fleeting thought that this was your child—a part of you, something innocent and pure, untainted by the cruelty of its father. But that thought vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, smothered by the reality of your situation.

No. Its a monster put here by a monster. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Suddenly, Sylus’s voice broke through the haze, calling to you from beyond the bathroom opening. You stiffened, panic flooding your veins anew. He can’t see this. Not yet.

A wave of panic surged, and you scrambled to snatch your shirt from the counter, clutching it desperately against your chest as his figure appeared, and he stepped inside. His gaze fell on you, his brow furrowing slightly with concern as he took you in, standing there, exposed, your knuckles tight against the shirt you were pressing tightly against yourself.

He took a step forward, concern etched in his face. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine—please, Sylus, just…leave,” you replied, willing your voice to stay steady, hoping he would listen.

But his gaze softened as he searched your face, clearly noticing the quickening in your breath, the apprehension in your eyes. Without a word, he reached for the shirt you held, and despite your best efforts, his grip was gentle but unyielding as he eased it from your hands.

"I've already seen you naked sweetie, many times. You don't need to be shy".

You felt frozen, helpless to stop him as he lifted the shirt away, exposing the small curve that had been hidden beneath.

Sylus’s breath seemed to catch, his eyes widening in awe as he took in the sight of your small but undeniable bump. For a moment, he was silent, his gaze tracing the curve of your stomach with a mixture of astonishment and tenderness. Then, as if unable to contain himself, a radiant smile broke across his face, one of unrestrained joy, his eyes brightening in a way you’d never seen before.

“This…this is what you were hiding?” His voice was a soft, reverent whisper, and he knelt down, his hand reaching out to gently, reverently, rest on the slight swell. He looked up at you, eyes shining with an emotion so raw, so overwhelming, it left you speechless.

“Sweetie…you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin, tracing the gentle curve as though it were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

Before you could pull away, he leaned forward, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your stomach. His breath was warm against your skin, and the intimacy of the moment struck you to your core. Your heart pounded in your chest, revulsion and disbelief twisting in your stomach as he closed his eyes, his touch so tender it was almost unbearable.

Sylus’s gaze flickered up to meet yours, filled with love, wonder, and a kind of vulnerability you hadn’t expected. For a moment, he seemed lost in the moment, lost in the reality that the life he’d longed for was now beginning to take shape. He brushed a gentle hand over your bump, his fingers tracing a slow, reverent path.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his hand gliding from your cheek to your shoulder. "So pretty with my baby growing in you, you're doing so good for me..."

His words fell like honey, each phrase laced with something warm and heavy. The praise mixed with the gentle intensity of his gaze, and for a moment, you felt a strange, almost dizzying sensation, as if his tenderness was pulling you into a world where you could forget the truth—just for a second.

But the kiss was no longer soft. He leaned in, pressing you against the wall, his hands slipping down to your waist, holding you close. There was a tension between you, a heat radiating from his touch as he let his lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, each kiss leaving a lingering warmth on your skin. He was so close, his hand pressing gently but possessively against the small of your back, his closeness overwhelming. You could feel his breath against your neck, the rapid beating of his heart as he leaned closer still.

He pressed up further against you, and you could feel the hardening of his cock as his hands continued roaming your naked body. Panic surged within you, the walls closing in as you felt him drawing you deeper into his embrace. You weren’t ready. Not for this. The kisses, the closeness, the feeling of his hands anchoring you to him—it was all too much.

You took a shaky breath, willing your voice to remain steady. “Sylus… please,” you whispered, your hand pressing against his chest, urging a little distance. “I’m sorry…I’m just…I’m not ready.”

For a split second, the air stilled. You didn’t dare look up, bracing yourself, fearing a flash of anger or the sting of his disapproval. But slowly, his hands softened their grip, loosening from your waist. You could feel him shift, the intensity of his touch retreating as he pulled back slightly. Hesitantly, you looked up, expecting frustration or perhaps that coldness you’d seen before.

Instead, his gaze met yours, warm and filled with a softness that was entirely unexpected. He swallowed, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he took a steadying breath, as if calming himself. “I understand,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but the warmth in it resonated deeply, cutting through the tension. “This is a lot for you to take in. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

You blinked, your heart racing as his words settled over you. He wasn’t angry. There was no frustration in his expression—only a look of genuine concern and, to your astonishment, regret. He wasn't going to force you like he had before. He had let you go.

“Thank you,” you managed, the words quiet, almost lost in the air between you. For a moment, you struggled to process what had just happened. Sylus, who had always taken so much from you without question, had actually listened. He’d stopped. You’d steeled yourself for resistance, for anger, for some form of reminder of his control over you. Yet here he was, stepping back, respecting your boundaries with a tenderness that left you momentarily speechless.

As you looked at him, you felt an odd mix of emotions. Relief washed over you, but something else lingered too—something more unsettling, a tiny flicker of doubt that questioned everything. It was the way he looked at you, as if there were truly nothing he wouldn’t do for you, even if it meant pulling himself back.

Sylus’s gaze softened as he took a step back, releasing you from his embrace but keeping his hand on your shoulder for just a moment longer. His thumb brushed gently over your collarbone, lingering, as if reluctant to let go completely.

“Do you want any help getting dressed?” he asked, his tone tender, almost coaxing. His eyes held a gentleness you were still getting used to, as though he was allowing himself to be vulnerable for once, hoping you’d let him in, even if just for a moment longer.

You shook your head quickly, a polite smile crossing your face. “No, it’s okay. I can manage.” Your voice came out steadier than you felt, and you could see the hint of disappointment that flickered in his gaze before he quickly masked it with a soft smile of his own.

You wondered why he craved so much for you to depend on him for every little thing. You couldn't understand.

“All right,” he murmured, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

With a graceful, deliberate movement, he knelt and reached for the chain at your ankle. Its weight shifted as he seemed to inspect it. You couldn’t help but notice the rust forming on its edges, the faint orange stain a quiet reminder of each time it had endured the showers with you, silently marking the limits of your freedom. He noticed it too, pausing for a second as he looked at the worn chain.

“Hmm,” he murmured, running his thumb along the rusted edge with a look of quiet contemplation. For a moment, you thought he might undo it, but instead, he straightened up, the faintest frown creasing his brow.

He looked back at you, his expression softening again. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he said, his voice a gentle promise.

As he turned and left, you found yourself exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The weight of his presence lifted, leaving you alone with the faint memory of his touch still lingering on your skin.

The room seemed to expand in his absence, and you allowed yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. The sight of the rusted chain resting limply at your foot reminded you that, despite his tenderness, despite these fleeting glimpses of something softer, you were still his captive. Yet a strange sense of relief washed over you. Today, he’d listened. Today, he’d let you keep that sliver of control. And for now, you’d hold on to that.

As you stood there, something inside you unraveled, a delicate thread finally snapping under the weight of it all. The reflection in the mirror blurred, and you didn’t even notice the tears until you felt the warmth trailing down your cheeks. They fell silently, each one a reminder of the future that was no longer an abstract concept. A mother...you were going to be a mom. This was real.

The thought settled in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You tried to steady your breathing, doing small calculations in your head, desperately seeking some reassurance. By now, you must be past twelve weeks, right? Past that critical point where things were supposed to feel safer, more certain. But the slight swell of your belly seemed too prominent, too soon, and the thought gnawed at you. Would this baby be huge? Were you somehow different? You didn’t know, and the not-knowing scared you.

With each breath, reality closed in, no longer letting you keep it at a comfortable distance. There would be no waking up from this, no shaking it off like a bad dream. This was happening, and the tiny life growing inside you was proof of that. You closed your eyes, pressing a hand to your stomach, the warmth of your palm grounding you, if only for a moment.

In his office, Sylus leaned back in his chair, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. The image of you lingered in his mind, your face still etched with surprise and maybe even a glimmer of acceptance. He’d seen it when you touched your belly, the soft, instinctual motion you likely didn’t even realize you’d made.

It struck him how profoundly this all had changed, not only for you but for himself. For the longest time, he’d moved through life with an efficient, calculated purpose, relationships and alliances mere tools in the larger picture. But with you, he found himself moving beyond that cold, strategic calculation. His gaze softened just remembering the way you’d looked at him, hesitant yet trying to keep up a facade, an echo of something fragile and new.

The hum of his phone jolted him from his thoughts, a message notification flashing across the screen. It was from Dr. Merrill, a routine check-in that he’d been insisting upon ever since he’d learned about your protocore syndrome. Sylus’s gaze darkened slightly as he thought back to his conversation with the doctor. There were, of course, risks. But he’d come this far—he would ensure both you and the child would be fine.

In the next coming weeks, you would both find out the gender. And he couldn't be more excited. He hadn't given the gender a whole lot of thought, as having either a son or a daughter would be fine. As long as they were healthy. He wondered if you were hoping for a specific gender? He would have to ask later once you were feeling more comfortable.

He quickly messaged the doctor back, instructing him to be prepared for another home visit in the coming weeks, as you were beginning to show.

Setting the phone aside, he let out a long breath, allowing himself to sink deeper into his thoughts. The joy he’d felt when he first saw the hint of your growing belly was overwhelming, almost surreal. It was rare, feeling anything so strong. He’d been raised to value control and precision, but with you, things were different. For once, he felt like he had a purpose beyond the plans and schemes that had once driven him.

You were wary, he knew. Never mind the fact that you were still pretending to cater to him and accept your situation. He had to admit, you were keeping this up far better than he expected. Even going as far to fake a few tears to get things out of him. How silly of you. You didn't need to cry to get him to buy you things. He was more than willing. He hoped overtime you would come to actually learn this and fall into your role by his side. But he didn’t expect this to be easy, he would be patient, careful not to push you too far. Especially after his hasty decision to punish you the way he did.

As he leaned back in his chair, Sylus’s gaze drifted out the window. His mind wandered to the future he saw unfolding: you, content by his side, his child safe and thriving, the three of you a family in every sense.

Sylus’s thoughts drifted, lingering on the changes he’d already started to notice in your body, subtle yet unmistakable. Your nipples had gotten slightly darker than their usual color. The gentle swell of your belly was the most obvious sign, but there were others—small, delicate shifts that only someone as attuned to you as he was could see. He thought of the way your figure had softened, the fullness in your curves that hadn’t been there before. He'd felt it during the past few weeks, during moments when he'd held you close, his hand resting against your back or your waist, anchoring you to him.

There was a warmth that spread through him as he thought about it, a kind of reverence for the life growing within you. He’d noticed your breasts, too—firmer, slightly fuller, and he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the changes, drawn to them in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The way your body was adapting, preparing, made him feel a quiet awe. It wasn’t just attraction; it was admiration, a deep appreciation for the transformation he was witnessing. He hadn’t said anything, of course—he knew you were still adjusting, still wary of him, and any comment on your body would likely only push you further away.

But he noticed. Every time he held you, every time you crossed his path, he felt a heightened awareness, his gaze inevitably drawn to the small signs of change. He’d often catch himself before you noticed, careful to keep his admiration hidden.

But the feelings for your growing body also went a little...past just admiration. He felt an ache in his groin as he kept thinking about your newly grown belly, and how much bigger you would have to get if you were going to carry a baby. He shifted, the tightness in his pants feeling a little more uncomfortable than usual.

He let out a sigh, looking down in annoyance at the hardness in his pants. This wasn't the first time he had gotten riled up at the thought of you, but he was usually pretty good at ignoring it until the ache went away. After seeing your belly preparing itself however, that wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

So he lifts his hips up to pull down his pants and boxers. His erection sprang free, curving upwards towards his navel. The thick shaft was flushed a deep, angry red, the bulbous head throbbing and already dripping with clear beads of precum. Veins pulsed along the length, testament to his rampant arousal.

Sylus shuddered, wrapping his calloused hand around his throbbing cock and squeezing firmly. A guttural groan escaped his lips at the pleasurable pressure, his hips rocking upwards involuntarily. He stroked himself slowly at first, savoring the feeling of slick skin gliding over rigid flesh. But as his lust grew, so did the urgency of his movements.

He certainly wasn't a short man. He had expected that any child of his, especially a boy, wouldn't be small either. How large would you get? Would you need help turning or getting up?

It excited him more than he wanted to admit.

His breathing grew ragged, harsh pants filling the room as he pumped his fist faster and harder over his weeping cock. Lewd squelching noises joined the symphony of grunts and groans as his precum smeared along his throbbing length, easing the way for his increasingly vigorous stroking.

Fuck...you were gonna look so cute fully swollen with his baby. Especially squirming underneath him, breathless, wet and begging for his touch. Swollen, heavy breasts prepping for milk. He read somewhere that pregnant women tended to get higher libidos somewhere in the middle of the second trimester.

He hoped to god that that was true for you.

Sylus felt the telltale tingle building at the base of his spine. His impending climax rushing towards him at breakneck speed, sinful images of you arching into his touch as he fucked you into the mattress, pregnant belly and breasts swaying with each thrust filled his head. He leaned down into the dresser of his desk, grabbing a spare handkerchief and positioning under the head of his cock.

The best part of all of this, was when your pregnancy would inevitably come to an end. When your body healed and you were at your most fertile, he could do it all over again. He could impregnate you as many times as he wanted and have a huge, happy family. Money was never going to be an issue, and as long as you were fertile, he could give you babies.

Over and over and over.

With a strangled groan, he exploded, thick ropes of pearly cum erupting from the tip of his jerking cock and into the handkerchief. He stroked himself through it, wringing every last drop from his spasming member until he collapsed backwards into his chair, chest heaving and cock still twitching.

He stared down at the cum now soaked into the handkerchief and tossed it into the trashcan beneath his desk. It was a shame such a heartful load wasn't leaking out of you right now. Weeks of buildup wasted.

Oh well. Plenty of time for that later.

As Xavier drifted in and out of consciousness, his mind clung to fragmented images, blurred scenes of his anger and desperation manifesting in the same looping dream. He saw Sylus, beaten and bloodied, collapsing in defeat. And then there was you, reaching out for him, your face soft, relieved. He’d pull you into his arms, his heart racing with the promise of safety. The scene was a balm, the only comfort in his haze of pain and meds. But when he blinked awake, reality crashed down with the sterile scent of the hospital, the sting of every broken bone, and the pulsing ache in his leg, arm and ribs.

The nurse gently shook his shoulder, calling his name, breaking through the thick fog. He stirred, his eyes heavy, everything feeling sluggish under the weight of painkillers. "How are you feeling, Xavier? One being the best, and ten being the worst." she asked, her voice steady and professional. He blinked, focusing on her as she held up her chart, waiting. He grunted a "five," the number slipping from his mouth like a reflex, more out of exhaustion than precision. She noted it, a brief look of sympathy crossing her face.

“I’ll be back soon to draw your blood and change your catheter,” she said, her tone compassionate but detached. He nodded weakly, feeling the stiffness in his neck as he tried to turn slightly.

The tray of food was right there—a bland meal of mashed potatoes, corn, peas, and water—but the sight was grounding. He took a deep breath and struggled, lifting his good arm with a heavy tremor as he reached for the spoon, his movements slow, clumsy. Just lifting the spoon to his mouth was a feat in itself, each bite reminding him of his limitations, the constant reminder of Sylus’s brutality.

He remembered so little of the past weeks—disjointed pieces that barely made sense. The memory of voices, some unfamiliar, and the persistent drone of machines had woven into his dreams, always melting back into the same loop: Sylus defeated, his blood pooling around him, and you, safe in his arms, looking at him like he was all you had left. He couldn’t shake it, didn’t want to, and yet each time he awoke, he was thrown back into the raw reality of his broken body, the helplessness of it twisting his stomach with fury.

The nurse stepped out, leaving him to the quiet of the room. As he chewed, he fought to keep his thoughts coherent, to string together the fragments of memory and rage that flickered in his mind. There was only one certainty left in him, one relentless drive pushing through the fog: he would find a way to make that dream real, no matter the pain or time it took. And next time, Sylus wouldn’t be the one left standing.

Xavier's gaze drifted to the small TV on the wall, where a tv show flickered in soft colors. The volume was low, barely above a murmur, but it filled the silence of the hospital room with a familiar rhythm. He hadn’t bothered to change the channel since he’d been here, his limited mobility making even that a chore. Besides, it was easier to let the shows cycle through on their own, each one a hazy backdrop of strangers’ voices, laughter, and applause.

Tonight, it was a trivia show. The host’s voice was calm and steady, calling out questions and waiting as contestants hesitated, stumbling through answers. The distant hum of excitement and applause from the contestants was oddly comforting. It wasn’t that he cared who won or lost, but the soft chatter, the flow of random facts and questions, was enough to draw his mind away from the pain, the memories, and the endless hours of confinement.

He let his eyes close briefly, the steady drone of voices pulling him into a light doze. It was almost hypnotic, a lull that softened the ache in his ribs and the rawness of his anger, dulling everything until all he could focus on was the pleasant monotony of questions and answers. The show was mundane, predictable, a relief from the nightmares that chased him when he let his guard down.

Xavier's mind had been relentlessly circling back to you. He could still picture you, asleep on Sylus’s couch, a ghostly image lingering in his thoughts. You looked...well, worse than when he last saw you, thinner, but relatively unharmed. It was a small comfort, yet it didn’t ease the dark, gnawing worry he felt. And then, there was Sylus’s claim—that you were pregnant.

The words echoed endlessly in his mind, stirring a sharp discomfort that clenched in his chest every time he recalled them. It didn’t seem possible. You didn’t look pregnant, not visibly, and he forced himself to cling to the hope that it was some twisted ruse. A manipulation. One more way for Sylus to get in his head, and damn it if he wasn’t succeeding.

Dr. Merrill had only made matters worse. Every time he entered the room to visit, his demeanor was professional, but his eyes held that wary, knowing look that Xavier hated. It was a reminder, a silent reinforcement of Sylus’s control, and even if they’d silently agreed to play along with the “robbery” cover story, it felt like another punch to Xavier’s pride. “I got careless. A random attack…left my guard down,” he had told Captain Jenna and the other members from UNICORN who had visited.

They’d been speechless, disbelief written across their faces. The top hunter of the organization, decimated by some “robber”? He had done his best to sell it, saying he’d been caught off guard after some drinks, uncharacteristically sloppy. But he knew Captain Jenna didn’t quite believe him. She’d given him a long, searching look, but she hadn’t pressed further. For now, the lie held.

His thoughts were interrupted by the nurse’s return, moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times. She went through her routine—checking vitals, prepping for the blood draw, making small adjustments to his catheter. As she tended to him, his phone buzzed on the table. He looked at her, nodding, and she held it to his ear as usual.

“Hello?” he said, feeling the dull ache in his bones as he braced for more bad news.

The voice on the other end was familiar—his property manager. The words spilled from the receiver, the matter-of-fact tone cutting through him. “Xavier, I understand your situation, but I can’t keep the apartment on hold indefinitely without payment. I’m sorry, but I’ll need to start clearing it out this week to prepare it for the next tenant. I’m not sure why you insisted on paying for two apartments, but this arrangement…it has to end soon.”

His heart dropped, a sinking weight that left him momentarily speechless. He’d known this was coming, had felt it looming, but hearing it now, in such stark terms, twisted the knife. That apartment—your apartment—was the only piece of you he’d managed to preserve. Without it…he could lose the last thread of connection.

Clearing his throat, he forced his voice to steady. “I can give you the remainder of what I have,” he said, desperation lacing each word. “I… I can’t work right now, but I’ll take out a loan if I have to. Please, just give me a little more time. A few more weeks.”

There was silence on the other end, the brief pause stretching out painfully. Finally, the manager spoke, her tone softer but unyielding. “I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make any promises.”

"If you must clean it out, please leave her clothes, documents, pictures, and stuffed animals in boxes outside my place. I'll take them and have someone move them inside. Everything else can go."

"Understood. Rest well."

The line went dead, and the nurse set his phone back down. She continued her work in silence, but he could feel her occasional glances, her unspoken sympathy. He clenched his hand into a fist, the pain in his fingers barely registering beneath the fresh ache in his chest. The nurse left and it was just him again.

Xavier felt the tears pressing behind his eyes, but nothing came. He was spent, emptied out, unable to cry anymore. He’d cried himself raw over you, over everything he’d lost, and now, it was as if his emotions had burned themselves out. Still, a deep ache remained, gnawing at him with every breath.

Captain Jenna’s generous “bonuses” were the only thing keeping him afloat financially, covering the bulk of his rent, but it wasn’t enough to support two places. And since you were no longer classified as an active hunter, he’d found himself struggling to convince her to subsidize your rent as well. His attempts to hold onto your apartment, your last space, were slipping through his fingers like sand.

He let out a weary sigh, his hand resting heavily on the now-empty dinner tray. Just as he was about to settle back into the silence, a commotion stirred in the hall.

“Ma’am, visiting hours are over…hey!” a nurse’s voice protested, strained with urgency. There was a scuffle, the sound of hurried footsteps, and Xavier strained to lift his head. Moments later, a familiar face bounced into his room, brown hair and eyes bright with energy.

“Tara?” he muttered, bewildered.

“It’ll only be a minute! Hold on!” she called over her shoulder, flashing a mischievous grin at the nurse. She turned back to him, face beaming as she moved a chair to his bedside. Her excitement was palpable, filling the air around her, and Xavier blinked up at her, caught off guard by her vibrant energy.

“How are you doing?” she asked, her voice warm, but her eyes scanned his bandages, his cast, and the pallor in his face.

He gave a small, tired smile. “I could be better,” he admitted.

She nodded, her eyes sympathetic but still sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place. There was a giddiness about her, an intense excitement that he couldn't place. He squinted, confused. “Why are you so excited?” he asked, voice tinged with curiosity.

A giggle bubbled up from Tara, and she pulled her phone out, brandishing it in front of him. “Because,” she began, nearly bursting, “I heard from her! Can you believe it? She’s alive and thinking about me!” Tara’s eyes danced with joy as she held her phone up, revealing a familiar name at the top of a recent text thread. “Look! Look what she sent me!”

Xavier’s gaze fell on the screen, and his chest tightened. There, clear as day, was a message from you. The message read simply but warmly, wishing Tara well and saying you hoped to see her again someday. His stomach clenched, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. This had to be Sylus’s doing. He could practically see the smug expression Sylus would have, reveling in the illusion he was spinning.

But he couldn’t say that to Tara.

His face remained carefully neutral, struggling to maintain a calm facade. “I’m happy she messaged,” he said, voice steady but weighed down with emotion. “Relieved…she’s alive and well.”

Images of you asleep on Sylus’s couch flickered through his mind, the faint rise and fall of your chest, your figure strained and thinner than he had remembered you. He knew better than to hope, but seeing the message struck something deep within him. He looked up at Tara, forcing himself to smile through the turmoil swirling in his mind.

“Seriously, I’m glad you got to hear from her,” he added softly, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray the dread he felt.

"Me too! I told her you were hospitalized, hoping maybe it would make her wanna come visit but she hasn't responded sadly".

The door swung open, and the nurse entered, her expression stern, disapproval clear in her eyes. “Ma’am, if you can’t respect the rules, you’ll be barred from visiting,” she said, her voice sharp and unwavering. Tara let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes as she rose from the chair beside his bed, brushing her hands over her clothes in mild annoyance.

“Fine, fine,” she muttered, flashing Xavier a look that seemed both apologetic and a bit frustrated. “Sorry our visit was so short. This was the only time I could get away today,” she added, softening as she looked at him. “I’ll try come back in a few days. Get some rest in the meantime, Xavier!”

He managed a small nod, a wave of sudden exhaustion pulling him under as Tara shot him a last bright smile before the nurse gently ushered her toward the door. With one last glance over her shoulder, she was gone, the sound of her cheerful goodbye lingering in the room.

The quiet returned, thick and heavy, and Xavier sighed, pressing his back into the hospital bed. His hand trembled as he reached for the plastic cup of water by his bedside. Lifting it with his good hand, he took a shaky sip, the coolness offering some brief relief against the dryness in his throat.

His mind replayed the visit over and over, the brief flash of Tara’s happiness, the message from you on her phone. How easy it had been for Sylus to manipulate your voice, to craft a message just believable enough to soothe the people who missed you. It felt almost mocking. As he placed the cup back down, his fingers slipped, and he caught it with a quiet curse, the weariness in his bones starting to settle deep.

The aching in his chest wasn’t just physical; the uncertainty gnawed at him, hollow and relentless. He lay back, eyes drifting shut, waiting for the pull of sleep to offer him some escape from the steady, simmering dread that had taken up permanent residence inside him.

Xavier wasn't sure how much time passed since then. Days. Weeks. None of it mattered anymore. Dr. Grey entered Xavier's room, clipboard in hand, his expression measured as he checked over Xavier’s latest chart. Standing beside the bed, he offered a polite nod, glancing at Xavier’s array of casts and bandages before beginning his assessment.

“Well, we’re seeing some positive signs of healing. Your bones are knitting well, though given the extent of your injuries, I expect that you’ll be able to start a semi-recovery phase in about four months,” he explained, adjusting his glasses and skimming through the notes. “But as you might guess, physical therapy will likely add at least another two months. And you’ll need to be diligent with it to avoid setbacks.”

Xavier’s face fell as he processed the news. He groaned, his frustration palpable. Six months. Half a year. It was an eternity, too long when he could barely keep himself from going stir-crazy in the bed after just a few weeks. He muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” his hand clenching around the bed rail as he fought the urge to sink back into the haze of exhaustion and disappointment that had plagued him since his injury.

He closed his eyes for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, hoping to drift away, if only for a few moments. But to his surprise, he felt Dr. Grey hesitate. The doctor wasn’t moving to leave; instead, there was a brief pause, then the scrape of a chair being pulled closer to his bed. Xavier’s eyes opened slightly, watching as Dr. Grey leaned in, his face shifting into an expression that hinted at something more than the usual professionalism.

Dr. Grey’s voice dropped to a lower, confidential tone. “Between you and me, Xavier…my team and I have been working on something… experimental,” he began, his gaze intense, as though gauging Xavier’s reaction. “Now, I know what you might be thinking—sounds shady, right? But hear me out. This could be revolutionary for medicine.”

Xavier’s brow furrowed, his wariness growing as he took in the doctor’s words. “Experimental?” he echoed, his voice rough with both curiosity and skepticism.

Dr. Grey nodded. “If this works the way we believe it could…you’ll be back on your feet far sooner than six months,” he explained, the gleam of ambition unmistakable in his eyes. “We’re talking no physical therapy. We’d skip right to complete bone regeneration and muscle repair, advanced healing far beyond the standard protocols.”

For a moment, Xavier was speechless, his thoughts racing. A quicker recovery would change everything—restore his autonomy, get him back to his work. It would mean less time relying on people like doctors and nurses, less time spent waiting for the smallest signs of progress.

And more importantly, get him back on his feet and to you.

He took a deep breath, his skepticism wavering slightly in the face of this new possibility.

“But…” Xavier said slowly, eyeing Dr. Grey carefully, “experimental could mean anything. Risks. Side effects.” He usually wasn’t one to jump into things blindly, not without knowing what he’d be up against.

Dr. Grey’s face grew serious, his tone steady and measured. “Yes, there’s risk. No treatment is without it, especially in uncharted territory like this. But the preliminary results we’re seeing are promising. If it works, you’ll be out of here much faster than anyone thought possible.”

Xavier mulled over the offer, the potential benefits battling against the whispers of doubt in his mind. The six-month stretch ahead of him felt like a prison sentence he couldn’t stomach, a length of time he couldn’t afford to lose. But the thought of unknown side effects nagged at him, adding a darker edge to the choice in front of him.

He glanced up at Dr. Grey, weighing the options carefully.

Xavier stared, a mix of disbelief and wary curiosity flickering across his face. “So…sooner than six months? With my injuries?” he murmured, the doubt sharp in his voice. He tightened his grip on the edge of the bed, gritting his teeth as he tried to wrap his head around what the doctor was saying. “It sounds…impossible.”

Dr. Grey offered a small, encouraging nod, his eyes lighting up as he rubbed his hands together, warming to the topic. “Look, Xavier,” he began, his voice laced with enthusiasm tempered by professionalism, “even if the recovery time doesn’t end up as drastically reduced as we hope, I can guarantee one thing: you’ll come out of this much stronger. Think of it this way—typically, after severe breaks like yours, even with the best therapy, the bones don’t ever quite return to their original strength. They’re vulnerable, fragile, prone to aches and limitations. But this…” he paused, as if savoring the impact of his words, “this could give you bones that are as strong—no, stronger—than they ever were. It’s essentially as if you’d been given brand new bones.”

Xavier felt his breath hitch. “Brand new bones?” The concept was almost beyond belief, a prospect that seemed too good to be true. It was like a second chance, a way to return not just to his old self, but maybe even better. And yet, his skepticism remained. “But…why me?” he asked, narrowing his gaze. “I mean, this can’t be something you offer everyone who comes in here.”

Dr. Grey nodded slowly, weighing his answer before he replied. “True, not everyone is a candidate. But in your case, your natural strength as an Evolver and your resilience make you uniquely suited to withstand the process. Evolvers have a different kind of stamina, a level of resilience the average person just doesn’t have. We believe this factor alone could make you less prone to some of the riskier side effects we might expect in others. Your body is already conditioned to endure more than most.”

Xavier took this in, a strange flicker of hope stirring in him, tangled with wariness. His eyes drifted down to the cast on his broken leg, envisioning what “brand new bones” might mean in terms of mobility, agility, strength.

Xavier narrowed his eyes at Dr. Grey, the skepticism carving deeper lines into his face. “And the catch?” His voice held a hardened edge, matching the unyielding look he gave the doctor. This all felt too good to be true. In his line of work, anything that sounded miraculous usually had a dark side. He’d likely end up a glorified guinea pig for some experimental nightmare and be worse off than he started.

But…there wasn’t a line he wouldn’t cross for you, no risk too great. If the price was turning into some kind of super mutant or even losing parts of himself in ways he could hardly imagine, so be it. If it brought him closer to rescuing you, it was worth it.

Dr. Grey shifted, hesitating for a fraction of a second before continuing. “There is one primary side effect,” he admitted, his tone carefully measured. “We’ve observed a tendency for this treatment to…impact fertility. Both men and women, in preliminary trials, show significant drops in sperm and egg counts. In some cases, the subjects have lost reproductive abilities entirely.” He sighed, rubbing his temple. “It’s not something we’re proud of, but it’s been difficult to address so far. If that’s a potential deal-breaker…”

Xavier shut his eyes, the doctor’s words settling heavily in his mind. The idea of a life where having a family with you might be impossible sent a sharp, painful pang through his chest. He had imagined that life with you—seeing you safe, starting anew, building something together that could finally erase the pain and chaos. To lose the chance of creating that future would be…devastating.

But then his thoughts spun back to you, imagining the worst of what you might be facing at that very moment, and his resolve hardened. No matter how much it tore him up, he knew his choice. You were the reason he had to see this through, the reason he’d go to the end of any dark path if it meant even a chance of finding you.

Opening his eyes, he looked back at Dr. Grey, voice steadier than he felt. “What do I need to do?”

Dr. Grey pulled his chair closer, glancing around the empty room before leaning in with an almost conspiratorial air. “The process is unconventional,” he began, keeping his voice low. “What we’re proposing is an IV-based therapy infused with liquid stem cells—stem cells that are mutated, cultivated from a unique gene therapy we’re developing. You’d be receiving not just healing cells, but cells that could actively ‘re-code’ the bone and tissue growth at an accelerated rate.”

Xavier stared at him, skepticism flaring. “You’re saying this will just… rebuild everything that’s broken?”

“Not just rebuild,” Dr. Grey clarified, “but create brand-new, fortified structures. The treatment relies on highly controlled pluripotent stem cells—cells that can turn into any type of tissue your body needs to repair, replacing damaged bone and muscle. We’ve also engineered them with peptides to enhance integration, minimizing scar tissue and allowing for what could be an almost full recovery.” Dr. Grey’s voice took on an eager edge, as though the science itself thrilled him.

Xavier considered the implications, a wariness settling over him. “Why keep it quiet? If this is so revolutionary, why not use it openly?”

Dr. Grey’s face hardened slightly, and he shook his head. “This therapy hasn’t been through traditional approval channels yet. Too many hurdles and red tape. If word got out, the scrutiny could shut down the whole program before we’ve even seen the full potential. That’s why I’m asking you to keep this between us.” He glanced briefly at the closed door before looking back at Xavier, his eyes intent. “If anyone on the staff asks, tell them I’m trialing an enhanced recovery solution. They don’t need to know what’s in the IV.”

Xavier processed this, a wave of doubt mingling with a grim determination. Risk or not, this treatment might be his best shot at getting back on his feet in time to make a difference. Still, the potential for irreversible effects, the secrecy, and the implications hung over him like a dark cloud.

“When do we start?” Xavier finally said, his tone a mixture of resignation and resolve.

Dr. Grey nodded, a spark of approval in his eyes. “We’ll begin tomorrow morning. It’ll be administered daily through a controlled IV drip. You’ll likely feel strange—minor aches, even slight chills as the cells begin to integrate. But over time, you should notice the pain lessening, your bones strengthening faster than normal.”

He looked Xavier in the eye. “And remember, if anyone asks, you’re on an advanced, routine recovery regimen. Let’s not invite extra questions.”

Xavier nodded and the two shook hands. And with that, Dr. Grey checked Xavier's vitals before heading for the door.

As Dr. Grey exited, Xavier stared at the door, a blend of unease and determination churning within him.

For hours, Xavier lay still, staring up at the sterile ceiling tiles. The hum of machinery in the background droned on, an endless rhythm that allowed his mind to wander deeper into his thoughts. Was he about to make a colossal mistake? Was he really willing to let Dr. Grey treat him with an experimental concoction, to let his body become a petri dish for untested science? A gnawing feeling of unease grew in his gut, twisting alongside the lingering ache of his injuries. The thought circled back like a vulture, forcing him to question if this was desperation leading him down a dangerous path.

But then his thoughts drifted back to you—your face, the way you looked when he last saw you, thinner, sleeping in Sylus's house as if you belonged there. Anger churned, and it transformed his doubt into something sharper. He couldn’t let Sylus keep you trapped. The longer he lay here, the stronger Sylus’s grip over you became. If this treatment could bring him back stronger, faster, ready to take on any danger…it would be worth it.

He could feel his heartbeat thudding, the blood rushing with a renewed purpose. He pictured himself fully healed, the ache and limitations of his injuries gone. Imagined the possibility of facing Sylus not just as a recovering man but as someone better, someone who could outmatch and overpower him.

A sense of determination crystallized. He could become more than Sylus’s equal. His lips tightened, resolve hardening like steel in his gut. His vision sharpened with new clarity, his dreams of seeing Sylus bloodied and broken gaining new weight, becoming less fantasy and more like a promise to himself.

And if Dr. Grey’s treatment delivered, those dreams might just become reality.

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

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dxmedstudent · 2 days ago

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When k started online dating several years ago after a bad patch, I was looking to reconnect with my hobbies - a difficult thing at a time when I was struggling with postgraduate qualifications and 12 hour shifts.

I was keen to start reading some Pratchett - put off repeatedly due to it being a rather mammoth task.

I remember he asked why I had thought to start reading Pratchett as that was really "something for teenagers". Or something to that effect. Tge implication that there was something... unusual in a woman of my age wanting to read his work.

I remember not really knowing what to say. I was a bit baffled, because I'd seen people of all ages talking lovingly about Pratchett's work. I'd read enough excerpts to feel that it gelled with my sense of humor. Good Omens basically got me out of the aforementioned horrible time in my life. And I'd read enough Douglas Adams to not conflate humor or silliness with bad writing.

Now, I unashamedly read manga and I don't think YA is just for kids. I don't think we should feel shame for reading fanfiction. I think we should enjoy a wide range of media.

Maybe this guy was perfectly fine, I'm sure he didnt necessarily mean it pejorativey, but I just didn't feel like hanging out with someone who I'd have to defend seemingly "childish" indulgences to. I'm not saying that's the only reason that we didn't meet again, but the tone of that conversation left me feeling that this was not my person.

I later met another guy, as you do. Right from the start, we talked at length about our favourite media, and I shared some anime recommendations. He offered to lend me his copy of the first couple of Pratchett books and went to look for them. Alas, he couldn't find them, he had a lot of books on his shelves, to be fair. But he was excited to share a series he loved with someone who was new to it and talking about the things I enjoyed and wanted to share was so easy. There was no pretention about what media is "for kids" or "for adults" or what media men are meant to consume.

Reader, I married him.

Now, you might think that marrying him was an unnecessarily convoluted way to ensure I get to have all the Pratchett books, and I'd probably agree.

But I did get a best friend to discuss all the things I like with, so I think it was a good deal overall. Looking back, given how careful he is with his possessions, I feel pretty flattered and amused that he was infatuated enough to offer out his books.

I still haven't gotten very far through the books (residency took priority), but I love that they are sitting by like old friends, waiting for me to pick up where I left off.

One of the weird things about medical training that we don't really talk about is that, in the pursuit of being a competent clinician, you miss out on so much of everything else through simply having little time. There are so many films or series or books I just never got around to enjoying. I used to feel kind of self conscious about all the things I have wanted to do but never gotten around to.

But I love sharing my life with someone who is always delighted to show me a great new thing that I haven't yet enjoyed.

It's never too late to pick up something new. And I hope this will open up Pratchett to a new audience.

Okay so this is a big deal

To me, and to a significant subset of Sir Terry's fans (including most of you who've found this by the tags), his writing is serious commentary on the human condition - politics, prejudice, self-control, revenge vs. justice, religion, idealism, faith in people vs. cynicism, and more - dressed up with fantasy settings and a hefty leavening of humor to make it fun to read. And it is WILDLY fun to read, actual laugh-out-loud or at least a snicker averaging about every page.

But there's this common idea among the "important literature" people that fun and funny books are not also worthwhile or important in the same way.

This is a Discworld book being released WITH ACADEMIC COMMENTARY and AS A PENGUIN CLASSIC. That's a HUGE amount of recognition.

#terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #dxdates #dxwrites #dxlives #dx lives

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salem-witch-slut · 3 days ago

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These Trembling Hands(18+)

Sevika X Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Since Silco died, you hadn't seen Sevika after months of her visits nonstop. When she finally comes back to the brothel, you couldn't help but notice one thing... She looked so, so tired.

WARNINGS: Descriptions of past sex (very minor), breast fondling (also pretty minor), only rated 18+ because dirty things were mentioned. Pretty tame overall. Brief mentions of SA of a minor (TRIGGER WARNING)

WORD COUNT: 4K (EXACTLY OMGGG)

A/N: This is a sequel fic to my Prostitution kinktober prompt. I loved it too much to hang it out to dry. And damn, you guys are eating that fic up. Over 1K notes in 2 days. Bunch of whores, the lot of ya!

DIVIDERS MADE BY @cafekitsune

You had heard rumors of Silco being killed, but that was all you heard of it. You could see from your shitty home terrace deep in the underground of the Undercity. People were scared, things were chaos, and the gangs were at war with each other. Without their leader, the Zaunites were rogue and killed whoever they saw fit. Luckily for you, you weren’t exactly a target as a brothel employee.

It was more valuable to keep you alive, and everybody knew you were loyal to one Zaunite in particular that even after everything, she’s still as powerful as ever. Still a force to be reckoned with, but does not act unless prompted to.

Sevika hadn’t been back to see you since Silco’s confirmed death. You simply assumed she had far too much work to do as the leader of keeping the peace between the gangs. Which was insane, because peace talks were never her job.

You hated to admit it… Oh, fuck that, you would scream it from the rooftops. You missed Sevika so bad. You missed her touch like it was what kept you alive. She saw you nearly every single week before Silco’s death and now the only way you know she’s alive is from the whispers on the streets.

Every day you would come in and hope for her presence, but you were never lucky. You never got to see her handsome face and your body begged for an actual release, or that cool metal from her cybernetic arm. You loved the chills you got from the sharp talon like fingers raking over your rear and leaving marks in your skin.

God, you missed her. You missed her husky voice, how she held you when you came on her fingers, how she encouraged you to bite her, the praise she gave, mixed with degradation… You were addicted to Sevika, and it was embarrassing.

The entire staff knew about your obsession with her. She once left a handkerchief of hers in your room after she used it to wipe the sweat from her face and you kept it. Oddly enough, it smelled just like her and you simply enjoyed having it in your presence. Sevika made you feel wanted. Was that so wrong to love?

You kept it with you all the time. You had it in your pocket even as you walked into work that day.

It was just like any other morning as you entered through the backdoors and got set up in your assigned room that you had, over time, personalized to fit your personality. You had a thing for dark candles and burning herbs that had been known to have relaxing properties. It made your life much, much easier and Babette encouraged it so you wouldn’t need to call out of work once again for your bruised cervix.

You chewed on your thumbnail as you sat yourself down, prepared to get dressed in your signature outfit of dark colors that the clientele loved, when the curtain pulled back to your room without warning. Your entire body went rigid as you looked up, and your breath got caught in your throat.

She came back! You tried to not let your excitement show as you stood up from your seat, cursing at your frumpy outfit. Baggy sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt that kept you warm in the dark underground city. Your hair was a mess and you hadn’t done your makeup yet but she barely even blinked as she stood in the doorway.

“S-Sevika, I–” You stuttered, looking at the cloak on her shoulder and then up to her face… Oh, she looked so, so tired. Her eyes had dark circles under them, partially bloodshot and her cheek was cracked, evidence from the overuse of shimmer from her cybernetic arm. She had a fading bruise on her brow, and healing cuts over her neck and near her cheeks. “Sevika?”

The tall woman finally made eye contact with you and you watched her toss off her cape and throw it to the floor. You noticed her arm was missing, and there was a frayed wire sticking out of the socket. It looked like it was ripped out of the mechanics on her shoulder as she slowly approached you and made you stumble backwards until your legs smacked into the bed.

Sevika watched you fall onto the bed, your face turning pink as she let out a long, big sigh and got down on her knees. For a second, you thought she was going to eat you out… But then you simply felt her head rest on your thighs and her arm wrap around your waist.

“Sevika, are you–”

“I’m tired,” She said, her voice wavering and cracking. You could smell the alcohol on her body and you could feel your heart almost breaking for her. “I’m so… so tired…”

“Oh honey,” You cooed softly, your hands reaching up and gently rubbing at her scalp. The crime lord visibly relaxed, feeling you remove the hair tie from her brown strands as you slid it on your wrist and raked your fingernails over her head. “You must be just exhausted… You’ve been doing everything out there.”

“Shit never stops,” Sevika pushed her nose into your thigh. “It’s always something… Someone is always getting killed, and I have to fix it. I used to be the one with the blood on my hands, and now I’m cleaning it off someone else’s.”

“I know,” You said, combing your fingers through her hair. “You’re the best at what you do.”

“What I did,” Sevika scoffed. “Doesn’t matter now… It’s just me holding it together.”

Words seem to fail you as you simply rubbed at the back of her neck, one hand sliding from her hair and down the back of her shirt, nails crossing over her skin and making the muscular woman shiver in your hold. This was completely different from what you two had grown used to.

Normally, Sevika would be making you scream at this point. She would stretch you on her fingers and praise you as you pulled on her hair and called out her name like it was the last thing you would ever say. But now? Sevika was too exhausted to do anything… Why was she here then? Why not at her home, sleeping?

You sat there with her for almost ten minutes, simply playing with her hair and rubbing her back. After a while, you could feel her breathing get a bit heavier and you frowned, looking down and seeing how she was almost asleep in your lap.

“Sevika,” You said gently, feeling her hand flex in your shirt as she looked up and then visibly relaxed at seeing your face. You smiled sweetly before scooting back on the bed and removing your sweatshirt. You flopped backwards in your plain white tank top before patting the space next to you. “Come here.”

“Y-You know, this isn’t what I pay for,” Sevika stuttered, her ears going pink for a second. You had never heard her stutter before! It was adorable. You simply rolled your eyes and reached out with both hands, undoing the fasteners on her shirt. The woman’s breath hitched as she went tense for a second, her hand reaching for your wrist out of instinct. “What are you–”

“Just relax,” You spoke softly, reaching up and sliding the shirt from her body down onto the floor. Underneath was a simple black stained shirt with tears near the collar. You scooted back once again and patted the mattress. “How long did you pay for this time?”

Sevika hesitated as she sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching down and undoing the buckles of her boots. “All day?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes and wrapping your arms around her waist. Sevika looked down, used to being able to reach down with her cybernetic arm but now it was simply phantom feelings.

In seconds, you two were crawling into bed as Sevika immediately wrapped her arm around your waist and pushed her head against your soft chest, basking in your warmth and listening to your heartbeat.

If there’s one thing you didn’t expect from today, it was this. You were expecting another hard, rough day with no rest and no breaks between clientele, but this was a very, very pleasant surprise. Your hands stayed put, rubbing at her back and holding her forearm that was draped across your middle. You could feel her breathing become more heavy, and you simply looked down before smiling.

She looked so peaceful… Her lips were parted slightly, the gap in her front teeth more prominent as she breathed heavily, a snore escaping her as she dug her fingers into your side. It was then that you realized something. Something that you definitely should have realized before after all these months with Sevika being your favorite client– No, favorite person.

You felt something for her. It went beyond simple affection or fascination with the woman. It was every time you saw her come in. You felt your heart skip a few beats and you were wrapped up in her arms almost immediately. Sometimes she stops by just for an hour, sometimes she’s here for almost four hours. But no matter how long, she never neglected your feelings.

Sevika was a rough lover, but she was so good at taking care of you, even if her aftercare was slightly condescending. She would wipe you off while calling you a messy whore. She would wrap a blanket around your shoulders while gently slapping your cheek. She would laugh at you as you lay in the pile of pillows on the floor, but still managed to get you water if you asked nicely.

And yet, even after all these months, there was one line you two had yet to cross, no matter how badly you wanted to. It felt too personal… A big jump between client and lover. Sevika couldn’t possibly see you like that. She pays for this. She has never attempted to see you outside of working hours, and you were sure she could easily find you. Not like you went anywhere outside of work and home and the occasional food stop.

The thoughts plagued your mind as you watched her sleep on your chest, seeing her lips move as she mumbled something and pushed her face deeper into your tits. You raked your fingernails slowly over her back, being gentle enough to keep her sleeping, but not so light that it tickled and woke her up. You were fully content with being like this all day long. If she paid for an all day session, this would be more than enough to keep you happy. She didn’t even need to touch you to make you happy. Sevika being here was good enough for you.

As the time went by, you could feel your eyes growing heavy with every passing second. You wanted to close them so bad, but every moment with Sevika felt precious to you. You wanted to kiss her. You had never been able to do that before… you wanted to so badly, it was eating at your soul and making your heart race. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and part of you felt like you would throw up, but it was simply eating at you.

Would she push you away? Would she refuse to come back? Or worse, would she retaliate? It felt like Sevika liked you too beyond just a body to play with, but you weren’t sure… Well, asking was out of the question. You knew words would fail you and you would sit there stumbling on your sentences like a moron. This was your only option.

Very carefully, you slid down the mattress and felt her lift up her head so she could rest it on the pillow as you moved. Sevika made a face of disappointment as she opened her eyes and blinked a few times in order to readjust to the soft lighting of the room. From this close, you could see how the candles reflected off her irises and you could see the flecks of purple around the corner from when she would use shimmer.

She stayed quiet, simply looking at you as you slowly reached down and grabbed at her hand. Her brows creased, seeing your slight distress and scooting herself slightly closer. Her body heat had your breath hitching. “What’s wrong, doll?”

Fuck, that nickname made your heart flutter. It felt like a rabbit was kicking at your chest behind your ribs as your hand slid up the length of her arm. You could feel the muscles underneath flexing, almost like she was teasing you on purpose. Her body was solid muscle and all strength; with sharp edges and tough skin. You loved every single inch of her.

“Sevika, I–” You tested your voice, and felt it crack like glass. Your face went pink as the smirk that did reside on her face slowly began to vanish. The silver irises glinted with confusion. She was genuinely concerned now as she saw, and felt your hand shaking as it slid up her arm and carefully rested on her cheek.

“What are you doing?” Sevika asked, her voice barely above a whisper. You blinked slowly, biting your lip before scooting closer.

A moment passed, and you simply couldn’t take it. “Screw it.”

You grabbed the back of Sevika’s neck under her hair and pulled yourself upward, your lips finally connecting with hers. The woman went stiff, her entire body rigid against yours as her eyes widened and she made a noise of surprise. A noise you had never heard from her before. It made your legs press together as you refused to breathe until you separated from her.

It scratched an itch deep in your brain that you didn’t know was eating at you. It felt like a hot shower after a cold day. It was like breathing after being underwater. It was everything you had expected… Minus Sevika not reciprocating…

When you broke off from her lips, you saw that she was laying there in pure shock. Her eyes were wide and the hand on your hip twitched as you looked down, refusing to meet her eyes. You were worried now. She looked almost upset with you as you refused to meet her gaze, scared of the repercussions.

“I’m sorry,” You said, close to sobbing. “I-I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to overstep and I was just– I don’t know what I was–”

Your words were cut off as Sevika gently tucked her knuckle under your chin and tilted your head back up to meet her eyes. And you saw her cheeks tinted a soft pink and her eyes were sparkling. And that was the last thing you saw before she was jolting forward and recapturing your lips like she couldn’t live without it.

Instantly, your hands went around her neck and you pulled her close, drowning in everything that was the woman named Sevika. How intense she was with every aspect of her life and how she gave 100% with all her actions, and that included kissing. Her tongue gently teased at your lips and you responded with your own, pressing it against hers and slipping it passed her teeth.

Sevika groaned, grabbing at your hip and pressing your entire body against hers, allowing you to feel how warm her skin felt on your own. It was like touching a livewire; you couldn’t break away even if you wanted. You couldn’t get enough, and you wanted more. So, so much more…

Your stomach twisted in your gut as you began sitting up off the bed and before you could stop yourself, your legs moved until you were sitting on Sevika’s hips, holding her down and breaking off from the kiss for a brief second.

There was a look in her eyes, almost like she was challenging you. Her brows knitted together as she panted, her hand curling against the bedsheets and her chest rising with each harsh inhale she took. Dear fucking Gods, she was sculpted by deities you didn’t even know existed. Her taut abdomen sucked in with each breath and you saw the outline of her abs through the shirt riding up on her waist.

Maybe someone else would have been put off with her only having one arm, but you didn’t care. It didn’t diminish her strength, and she could fair fine without it. Even with just a hand, she was able to break you and you would thank her.

“Someone’s being bold today,” It was that same flirty condescending tone she used with you all of the time. You ate it up as your fingers traced down her chest, between the valley of her breasts before stopping to trace a few little patterns into the flesh showing below her shirt. You felt her abdomen tremble at your touch, and you smirked. “Get that smile off your face.”

“I can’t help it,” You said, fingers twitching as you reached forward a little more and began sliding her shirt upward to expose her stomach and staring at her chiseled muscles in full view. Your breath hitched and you felt your toes curl up. “So perfect…”

Sevika groaned, putting her hand over her face and covering her eyes. Almost like she was embarrassed of your words, but that would be silly. Sevika doesn’t get embarrassed. She isn’t capable of that. Is she?

The veins almost popped in her forearm as she grabbed her face, feeling your soft, uncalloused fingers stroke along her ribs and slide up even more. You could feel yourself getting wetter with each passing second as you breathed hard, licking at your lips. This was a huge moment for both of you.

You had never seen Sevika without a shirt before. Never seen all of her and hardly ever got to touch her like this. You felt like you were in control. This was insane.

“S-Stop me if it’s too much,” You said, voice wavering as you pushed the shirt up the rest of the way. Your insides damn near melted at seeing her breasts for the very first time. You had a feeling it was just as strong as the rest of her, but you didn’t have proof until now. And another suspicion you had? Yes, her nipples were pierced. You fucking knew it.

“You done?” Sevika snapped, looking down at you and narrowing her eyes. You blinked, not realizing just how long you were staring at her until she knocked you out of your stupor. “Not some sideshow attraction here, doll.”

“Really?” You chuckled, reaching up and cupping her breasts with both hands. “Because I think I should be paying to see you.” Your fingers traced over her piercings and Sevika gasped, her body jerking towards your touch like she was desperate for it.

Sevika was a vision. And you were desperate to see more.

It wasn’t long until you were reaching down for her belt and unzipping her pants when she reached out with her hand and grabbed at both of your wrists. You immediately stopped, looking down at her and seeing the wild look in her eyes and how her body was almost on the offensive.

“Wait,” She pleaded. Your heart broke. “Just… just wait, please, give me just a minute.”

“Sevika,” You frowned, releasing her belt and scooting closer towards her. Something was off about this, and you just had to know what was going on. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“It’s just that… I just…” Her entire face fell as she sat up and dropped her head down. Her hair covered her face as you reached forward and pushed it away to look at her. “No one has done that before. I haven’t… let anyone touch me like this.”

“Honey,” You cooed, leaning down and looking into her eyes. Sevika pressed her lips into a thin line and looked up through her lashes, the bruises under her eyes more prominent from this angle. “Talk to me.”

The woman scowled. It was an internal battle for her to admit any of this, especially to you. Sevika knew how you saw her, and this was just crossing some kind of line in her mind. You saw her as a strong, unmovable force that could never be injured or taken down. You saw Sevika as a god, and she was about to shatter that illusion.

“It was when I was a kid,” Sevika admitted. “I was a scrawny little shit, you know? A gutter rat… an easy target,” For a brief second, her eyes watered but she blinked it away. “I didn’t stand a chance back then.”

There was a moment of confusion before the pieces clicked into place and you felt your entire body go rigid. You felt sadness, empathy, compassion… rage. Pure, blood-boiling rage as you pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. You couldn’t show your anger, but you wanted to hunt whoever it was down, and watch them bleed out slowly. How could anybody do that to her? To a child?

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Don’t,” Sevika looked away immediately, her lips curling into an almost snarl as she looked down at the sheets, trying to distance herself. You tried not to flinch as you scooted back in the bed and gave her space. “I don’t tell people shit for that reason. I don’t need pity. I don’t want it either.”

“Okay,” You bit down on your lip, tucking your legs under your body and putting both hands on your thighs. Sevika noticed your sudden change of attitude and she stood up from the bed. Before you could ask what she was doing, she started pacing back and forth, rubbing at her jaw and trying to sort out her thoughts. You sat there silent, scared if you said a word that she would snap and the moment you two shared would be over.

It was almost three whole minutes before she stopped pacing. You felt like you were trapped in a cage with a wild animal. So unpredictable and volatile, but just scared of what you could do to them and they feel the need to defend their existence. Your heart went out to her, and you wish you could take back your actions because now everything was shattered, just as you feared.

“What the hell are we doing?” Sevika muttered into her hand. She turned to look at you and saw that you weren’t looking up at her, and almost like it was happening in slow motion, a tear slipped down and splattered onto your leg. You didn’t look up… until she said your name. Your real name, not a nickname or pet name.

“Look,” Sevika said, sitting back down on the bed and reaching out to take your face in her hand. You leaned into her touch and held back a whimper. “This all got out of hand… Somewhere between us, the lines started blurring. Went beyond me paying to fuck you–”

“You’re not coming back,” You shivered. Sevika visibly recoiled at your words. “Are you? I ruined this, and now you won’t come back again.”

“Hey now,” The woman immediately grabbed at your chin and forced you to look up. “Don’t put words in my mouth, doll. I never said that.”

You whimpered. “Then… What are you saying?”

A gasp left you as she pressed her lips into yours once again and sighed, her hand tangling in your hair and rubbing at the back of your neck. It was just as fucking amazing as before and you were visibly upset when she broke off.

“I’ve got a reputation to keep up, you know? We just… have to keep this quiet, understand?”

“You mean,” You said. “Like a secret?”

“See?” Sevika chuckled before kissing your cheek. “I knew you weren’t dumb, sweetheart.”

#lgbt #lgbtq #sevika #sevika x reader #arcane sevika #my fic #arcane league of legends #arcane #fluff #this is so cute #sevika just needs a fucking hug #that poor woman #give her a break #trigger warning #tw mentions of sa #lesbian character #wlw fiction

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samandcolbyownme · 15 hours ago

Note

The perchance of rafe smut?😝😛🫡

Summary: Reader risks her friendship just to be with the one she came to love most

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, sneaking around, flirting, kissing, unprotected car sex, creampie, hair pulling, choking, biting, general filth with fluff

Word Count: 4.5k | unedited

𓂃 ོ𓂃

“Come on.” Kie kicks the end of your bed, “We gotta go.” She yawns, forcing a yawn upon you, “What time is it?”

She looks down at her phone, “It’s seven.”

“Kie.” You shoot up in bed, staring at her, “We were to be there at seven!”

“Oh shit.” Her hands slap her thighs and you quickly get up, running around your room to find your clothes, “Fuck, we have to wash the Cameron’s Yacht today.”

You grab your swimsuit top, turning around to rip your baggy shirt off your body, “I hope Ward isn’t there bitching.”

“Knowing him. He probably is.” Kie sighs, “I thought something felt off.”

After putting your shirt back on, you slide your jean shorts up your legs and button them over your swim bottoms, quickly walking over to slip on your sneakers. You turn your head as Kie speaks, “If Rafe is there, we’re fucked.”

“Why do you say that?” You look over at her and she raises her brows, “Everything has to be perfect for that fuckin’ kook.”

You nod, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” You grab your phone and slip it into your pocket, “Alright, ready?”

She nods and you both take off down the hall and out the door.

“Hey where are you-“

“Can’t talk, JB. Gotta run to work. We’re late.” You yell as you and Kie run by the Twinkie.

“I can give you guys a ride!” He yells back, but you and Kie just keep running. You weren’t too far from the marina, luckily.

“Almost there.” Kie huffs, “Fuck, we should have just let John B give us a ride.” You laugh as you slow down from a run to a walk, nodding as you take a deep breath, “Yeah, yeah. That would have been.. a better idea..”

She nods, walking down the hill to the dock, you on her tail.

“Ward’s yacht is over there.” She points as you bend down to grab the buckets and rags, “Is he there?”

She makes a visor with her hand, shaking her head as she looks down at you, “No, I don’t think anyone is here.”

“Good. We got lucky.” You stand up, handing her a bucket with water, “Let’s just.. get started before anyone knows we were late.”

You walk down the dock, kicking off your shoes before stepping onto the expensive boat. You set the bucket down and point, “I’ll work down here if you want to go up there?”

“Sounds good.” She takes her bucket and climbs up the steps. You walk over to the side, working on wiping down the seats.

𓂃 ོ𓂃

After an hour of working, Kie taps the boat, “Hey, Incoming.” You look up at her and she points, turning your attention to the man climbing aboard the still boat.

“You missed a spot.” Rafe points, “Yeah, uh, right where your hand slapped the side of my boat.”

Kie scoffs, “Don’t you have anything better to do than come bother us while we’re working, Rafe?” He glances from her to you and shrugs with a smirk, “I mean, last time I checked, this is my boat..” He looks back up at her, “..so, I can come and go as I please, right?”

“Whatever.” Kie scoffs, shaking her head as she walks away from the edge. “Yeah, Rafe. Couldn’t this wait until we were done. You’re just tracking more dirt in.”

You fight back a smile as he walks up to you, “Relax, okay.” He tilts his head, smirking as his eyes bounce from your bikini top back up to your eyes, “I just need to grab something for my dad.”

You playfully roll your eyes, turning your head as his hand drags across your bare lower back as he moves behind you to the cabin.

You didn’t hate Rafe, not in the slightest. You only had to pretend to because if your friends found out you were secretly seeing Rafe Cameron behind their backs, they would absolutely lose it - big time.

Yes, Rafe was a total asshole, but never to you. In fact, he was head over heels for you, and only you. He showed you his soft side, never raising his voice at you. Never taking his anger out on you - unless you asked him to, of course.

It was fun to play enemies while you were around your friends, it only made the love you had for each other grow stronger.

Your hand wiping down the wall comes to a slow stop as you feel a hand lay on your hip, dragging across your back again. You turn your head as he leans in to whisper, “I’ll see you later, alright?”

He quickly pecks your temple and walks away. You look back at him, scoffing in Kie’s direction when you hear her come down the steps, “Ridiculous.”

She rounds the corner, leaning against the side of the boat, “Tell me about it. he’s so..” she raises her voice, looking towards him, “Annoying!”

He raises his hand, flicking her off before walking down the dock.

“Yeah, literally.” You scoff, “I mean, did he even grab anything?”

“I’m not sure. Probably just wanted to piss us off.” She shakes her head, walking over to sit down, “How much more do you have to do down here?”

“I have to clean the inside and scrub the floor out here. Shouldn’t take too much longer.” You sit down next to her, glancing back at Rafe.

He looks up from the guy he’s talking to, smiling as he continues the conversation. You look back, tilting your head up toward the sky with your eyes closed, “You think he knew we were late?”

“I hope not.”

“How many more boats do we have to clean?” You look over at her and she groans, “Oh don’t remind me.” You laugh and stand up, holding your hand out, “Come on. I’ll put some music on.”

She whines as she takes your hand, “Fiiiine.”

𓂃 ོ𓂃

After the Cameron’s yacht, you had three more to do, which, instead of splitting off, you both worked together in the same area which cut down the time by a lot.

“Do you have plans after this?” Kie looks up at you and you shake your head, “Probably just going to get something to eat.”

“You read my mind.” She laughs, “I’m starving.”

“Hold on.” You smirk at her and make your way down into the cabin where the bedroom is. You’ve cleaned this yacht before, so you know where all the hidden snack drawers are.

You grab a few bags of chips and two granola bars, stopping when your phone buzzes. You pull it out, smiling when you see a text from Rafe, Is my girl okay? You seemed a little down when I seen you earlier.

You lean out into the small hallway before answering him, I’m good, just a little on edge. We were late this morning, scared I’m going to get in trouble.

You put your phone back into your pocket before making your way back up to Kie, “Here.”

“Oh hell yes.” She takes the small bag and rips it open, “I love you.” You laugh, “I’m sure they won’t mind, I don’t even think they’ll notice.”

You take your phone out of your pocket, fighting back a smirk as you read over the text from Rafe, You won’t baby I’ll make sure of it.

Kie moves to sit down to snack on her chips, “Remind me again as to why we’re doing this?”

You put your phone away and walk over to sit next to her, “Be..cause we’re hungry?” You pop a chip into your mouth and crunch down on it and she laughs, shaking her head, “No, no. This. Cleaning boats.”

“Oh, well. Thats pretty simple, because my family is a bunch of assholes, but you’re more family than they’ll ever be, and that’s why you’re here.” You smile at her and she smirks, “I just don’t get why your family want to live in the cut when they can get a place over in kook paradise.”

You shrug, “They’re humble with their money I guess. I don’t know. They want me to go to a prestigious school but I just want to live my life, so in that agreement, I make my own money until I’m ready to accept what they want for me.”

Partly why you loved Rafe. He loved you for you and understood that you were your own person.

“Well well.”

You and Kie jump to your feet, “S-sorry. We were-“

JJ stands there laughing, “Oh I got you guys good!”

“Fuck off, JJ.” Kie rolls her eyes, “That wasn’t funny.”

He laughs and sits down, kicking his feet up, “I thought it was pretty funny.” You push his feet off and wipe the upholstery, “Don’t get things dirty. We already cleaned in here.”

“Whoa, sorry.” He holds his hands up in defense, “Didn’t know you guys took this job that serious.”

“You do when your income relies on it, J.” You roll your eyes, looking around, “I don’t know. It looks pretty clean to me.”

“Done for the day?” Kie raises her brows and you nod, “Done for the day. Let’s go eat.”

𓂃 ོ𓂃

You quickly response to Rafe’s earlier text as JJ and Kie are up grabbing the food, Thank you baby. Can’t wait to see you later.

You sit up, tucking your phone between your thighs as you hear the sound of them laughing growing closer, “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” You take the bag from JJ and he plops down next to you, “So who’s getting beer for tonights bonfire?”

“Bonfire?” You ask, glancing from him to Kie, and she nods, “Yeah, John B has been planning one for a few days now, I told you about it didn’t I?”

You shake your head, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re bailing on this.” JJ groans, “You can’t. You’re a pouge, y/n. That’s like.. like a sin to miss out on this.”

“I didn’t say I’ll miss it. I’m just saying, I’m tired so I’m not staying for the whole night.”

“Lame.” JJ groans, “But fine, I’ll accept that.”

Kie laughs, “You don’t work tomorrow, do you?” You shake your head, “No. thank god.” JJ slaps his hands on the table, “Then there you go. You can stay out late tonight and then sleep all day tomorrow. It’s what I do and it works out for me.”

You raise your brows, “Yeah, okay.” You stand up, “I’ll be back.”

“You runnin’ out on us?” JJ asks and you tilt your head, “I have to pee, J. Is that a sin, too?” You and Kie laugh as he shakes his head and you make your way to the bathroom.

You lock yourself in the stall and press your back against the wall as you type, John B is having a bonfire tonight and I’m supposed to go. I need a good excuse as to why I won’t be there.

You see the bubbles pop up and Rafe’s text comes through, Tell them that you’re doing something that can bring you a lot more pleasure than staring at a fire.

You laugh, biting your lip as answer, fine you’ve convinced me, I’ll meet you at the usual spot at six and I’ll wear that dress you like.

You put your phone back into your pocket and walk out, “I’m going to go home and get ready. I’ll meet you guys at John B in an hour?”

“Oh shit.” Kie looks at her phone, “It is three. He said to come over around five.”

“Well. I’ll be at John B’s.” JJ stands up, “I’ll get the beer. See you guys later.” You look at Kie, “My mom texted me when I was in the bathroom.”

“About what?” She tilts her head and you sigh, “Said she wants to have a chat with me.” You laugh, “Maybe we got busted for being late and they called my mommy.”

“Oh god, I hope not.” She frowns, “Well good luck.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You turn around, letting out a sigh as you push open the door.

𓂃 ོ𓂃

You run your hands down over your dress, turning in your mirror as you give yourself a once over before grabbing your phone.

“Hey.” You call out, “I’m going to John B’s for a bonfire for a little bit.”

“How long are you going to be?” Your mom calls out from the living room, and you walk in, leaning against the door, “Few hours maybe?”

“Okay. Have fun.” She gives you a smile and you nod, turning to leave. You stop at the front door, turning around, “Actually, mom..” you walk back in and she looks up at you, “Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’m going to the fire. I’m going to go for a bike ride, think about college.”

She raises her brows, “Really?”

You nod, lying with full intent, “Yeah, if any of my friends show up, don’t tell them that. They’ll freak out. I want to be the one to tell them.”

She tilts her head, “What do you want me to tell them?” You shrug, “Just tell them that I went to bed or something, I wasn’t feeling good?” She nods, “You got it. Good luck.”

You turn around and walk to the front door, stopping to text Rafe, Fuck the bonfire. I’m coming now.

A smirk grows on your face as Rafe’s texts back, That’s my girl. On my way.

You make your way out the door and to your bike, looking around before pedaling away from your house.

After a few minutes, you smile when you see Rafe’s car parked in its usual spot and you come to stop, getting off to push it behind some trees.

You run around, getting in and immediately leaning over to press your lips to his, “I’ve missed you.” He smirks against your lips, “I can tell.” He chuckles as you sit back down, sliding his hand to your thigh, “God, you get prettier each time I see you.”

He smiles and starts to drive, “Where we goin’ baby?”

You shrug, smiling over at him, “Somewhere no one will find us for a while.”

He nods, giving your thigh a squeeze before he starts to drive. He drives up to a lookout, overlooking the night life filled figure eight, “How’s this?” He glances over at you and you smile, looking from his eyes to his lips, “It’s perfect.”

You unbuckle as you lean over, your lips crashing onto his.

You can hear your phone vibrating in your bag and you huff, “I didn’t tell them I wasn’t coming.” Rafe shakes his head, “I’m sure they’ll understand, baby.”

“I told my mom I was going for a bike ride to think about college.” You giggle, “But this is much for fun than that.”

“Don’t worry about them, okay.“ He kisses back your jaw, “Just relax and let me take care of you, alright? Nothing will happen, not when I’m around.” He lean back, “C’mere.”

You smile and climb over the console to straddle his lap. Your hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders as you lean back in to kiss him.

His hands slide down your sides and around to your ass giving it a squeeze, “Where’s my girl, huh?”

You bite your lip, sliding your hands down to undo the belt on his jeans, “Right here, baby.” Rafe sucks in a breath as you slip your hand into his boxers, nodding with a smirk, “Damn right.”

He reaches up, pulling you in by the neck to kiss you. You swallow his moans as your hand slowly moves up and down his cock, “a-alright, fuck, baby. Enough teasing me, yeah?”

You bring your hand up, collecting a saliva on your fingertips and rub it on the tip of his cock before lifting your dress up and moving to hover over his lap.

You reach down under, pulling your panties to the side before slowly sinking down into him. Your hands fling to his shoulders as your head falls forward to rest against his, “Fuck, Rafe.” You gasp, “Fuck, I’ve needed you.”

His grip on your hip tightens with one hand while he reaches up and tilts your chin up with the other, “Whenever you need me, baby. I’m all yours.”

You roll your hips, your jaw falling open as you feel the entirety of him stretch you out, “You feel so good.” Rafe groans lowly, watching your body move on top of his, “Yeah?”

You press your hand onto the center console, gripping his shoulder with the other one as you bounce.

“That’s it, baby, fuck.” Rafe rests his head back against the headrest, “Just like that.”

Your moans fill the car, the heat from your bodies fogging up the windows rather quickly.

Your walls squeeze his cock, begging for your release to come on quicker, “Fuck, I’m already so close.” A smug smirk slides onto his lips, “That good, huh?”

You smile, head tilting to the side as you roughen your bounces, “F-fuck, fuck, Yes.”

Your eyes lock onto Rafe’s and you watch as his jaw fall slack, groans leave his lips as your moans grow louder.

He slides his hand up to your neck, squeezing slightly as he pulls you in, “Cum for me, baby, please.” He practically whimpers, “God you feel incredible.”

You slide your hand up to his, squeezing to indicate you wanted him to choke you harder, and he does. You whimper as he follows through, his grip growing tighter as you gasp, “There.. There baby. Fuck.”

“That’s it.” Rafe groans, “So much better than a bonfire, right?” Rafe reaches down, pulling to recline his seat back and his hands move to your hips.

He holds you still as he bucks his hips upward, fucking you through your high, and all you can do is moan in response, “S-so.. much better, R-Rafe..”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He grunts out, his lips moving to kiss up and down your neck, “Christ, baby. You have me about ready to cum.”

You laugh slightly, “That good huh?”

“Fuck yeah, baby.” He smirks and lifts his head to press his lips to yours, swallowing each of your moans with ease, just like you do in return with him.

“D-Don’t stop.” You whimper against his lips, “I-I’m almost there again.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, tightening his hold as he continues to thrust upward, “C’mon, baby. I got you.” He connects your lips with his, “I got you.”

You press your hand to the window, moaning out loudly as Rafe brings you to, and through your second high of the night. You look down at him, your hand coming up to ready on his cheek as you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You press your lips to his, swallowing his moans as he pushes you down onto him fully.

Your lips move in a slow sync for a moment before you smile and sit up, “Well, that was fun.” You bite your lip as you go to move off of him, but he stops you, “Uh uh. Where are you going?”

“Back over to-“

“Nah.” He shakes his head and reaches down to lift you up. He reaches under your dress and fixes your panties before he fixes himself.

He pulls you down to lay on his chest and he kisses your head.

After a few moments of silence, Rafe takes a deep breath, “Are you really thinking about going to college?”

“I don’t think so.” You answer quietly, “That would require me to leave and honestly.” You sit up, laying your hand on his chest, “I don’t want to.”

He smiles slightly, laying his hand on yours, “You know I’d go with you right?” He scoffs, “I don’t know what it is about you, but I’d do anything for you.”

You smile, “Damn, I really do have you wrapped around my finger, don’t I?”

He shakes his head with a smirk, “Yeah, I guess you do.” His hand rub over your hip, “Look, I know I’m not really who you’d stay for.”

“Well yeah, you said you’d come with me, so.” You laugh slightly and he looks up at you, “I know.. those.. pouges are you friends and I-“

“Rafe.” You lay your hand on his cheek, “I’m risking everything for love, basically.” He furrows his brows, “What.. do you mean?”

You tilt your head, “What I mean.. is I know you guys don’t get along.. frankly, Rafe. They hate you.” You laugh slightly as he smirks, “I mean, yeah. I get it.”

You lay your hand on his cheek, “I’m risking my friendship with them to be here with you, because I love you.. and I know that.. that it’ll be a shock to them, and they might hate me, too, but no one has ever treated me the way you treat me and I just-“ you sigh, locking eyes with him, “Love.. you..”

His eyes scan your face before he nods, pulling you in for a kiss, “I love you.”

You smile against his lips, moving your hands up to cup his face, “You know.” You sit back, “You are such an asshole.. it’s kind of weird seeing you in this soft sweetheart mode.”

He tilts his head, furrowing his brows, “You’re pushing it.”

“Am I?” You tilt your head and he breaks, cracking a smile as he shakes his head, “No.” He sits up to kiss you and groans, “God, what is wrong with me. You’re like.. a drug that makes me sane.. Jesus Christ.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around you as he tilts his head to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and giggle against his lips, “I wish we could just stay here forever.”

You look over to the window, reaching up to draw a heart. Rafe watches you, a smile resting on his lips, “If they were really your friends, they’d understand that I’m not trying to hurt you.”

He reaches up to tuck hair behind your ear, “It’s not what I want to do.”

You nod, “I know, baby. But with them it’s just..” you sigh, “it’ll take time.”

He shrugs, “As long as I still get to have you.”

You nod, “You’ll always have me.” You lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips, “You should probably get me back. They’re probably outside my house waiting for me.”

Rafe groans, “Fine, if you say so.”

You crawl back over to the passenger seat, pulling your phone from your bag.

Kie: are you coming?

Kie: hello? Where the hell are you?

JJ: a sin, y/n. A sin.

Pope: Kie said you were coming? What happened

JB: yo where the hell are you?

Kie: We’re coming to your house. We’re worried.

“Yep. Just as I said.” You sigh as you toss your phone back into your bag, “They’re going to my house.”

“What are you going to tell them?” Rafe asks, taking your hand into his, “You gonna tell them the truth, or..” he looks over at you and you shrug, “I think I’ll just tell them that I was thinking about collage.” You shrug, “I don’t know. I want to be honest with them, but I just know how they’ll react.”

“Tell them whatever you want, y/n, and if you want me to sneak in later, I will.” Rafe chuckles, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

𓂃 ོ𓂃

“Where the hell have you been?!” Kie runs up to you, the guys following behind her. She hugs you before you even have time to get off of your bike, “Seriously a text would have been great.”

You get off of your bike and walk through the group of huddled friends, “I was just.. out.. thinking..”

“About what?” John B tilts his head as you turn around and JJ scoffs, “It better have been good enough to miss this fire, y/n.”

You glare at JJ and he raises his hands, “What? I’m just- it’s true!”

Pope shakes his head, “What ever is going on, y/n, we won’t be mad. We want to help.”

You look between them, looking at Kie, “Remember our conversation on the boat to-“ you sigh, “No I can’t do this.” You go to walk away but Kie stops you, “You’re thinking about it.”

You stare at her and the guys look between each other, confused.

“Thinking about.. what?” Pope shakes his head and you swallow, “College.”

“You’re thinking about leaving?” JJ asks and you shrug, “I don’t know, maybe?”

“No.” Kie shakes her head, “That’s not it, is it?”

You shake your head, “I just- no. I can’t tell you. Just.. go home, guys. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“No, you can’t just leave us on a cliff hanger like that.” JJ yells and right when you turn around, you see a car pull up and your heart skips a beat, “Fuck.”

“What’s he doing here?” John B asks and you all watch Rafe get out of the car, walking around to the group. You shake your head, “Rafe, I didn’t-“

He cuts you off, “Look, I love her and I promise to-“

JJ walks up, socking him across the jaw and you gasp, “JJ!” You run up and push him back, turning to look at Rafe, “You good?”

“Wait..” Kie scoffs, “What’s.. what do you mean you love her?”

“Are you and Rafe hooking up?” Pope asks and you nod, “We’ve been, but it’s a lot more than that.” You take a deep breath, “I’ve wanted to tell you, but I just know that it wouldn’t have ended well and I just-“

“Is that why you haven’t been busting our balls every time you’ve seen us?” John B asks and Rafe nods, “Y/n told me to lay off so.. I did.” He rubs his jaw, “Nice right hook, Maybank.”

JJ smirks, “Thanks.”

“This.. is so weird..” Kie shakes her head, “So you skipped out on the party to see him?”

“No, I skipped out on the party to talk to the only person I know who wouldn’t freak out about me bringing up the idea of college.”

“So did you come up with an answer?” John B asks and you nod, “Yeah. I’ll stay, but it’s not going to change anything between Rafe and I so if you have a problem with that.. that’s on you.”

They all stay silent and look around before JJ raises his arms, “I guess we’re having a non-voyage party then right?”

He claps his hands, “Back to JB’s we go!” He looks at Rafe, “And yeah.. as long as you really love her and treat her with the upmost respect, you can come, too.”

𓂃 ོ𓂃

Haven’t written for the obx in a while, I hope it’s up to par! I love you! Thank you for reading! I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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queerliblib · 22 hours ago

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Hey QLL, I have a question!

Any queer poetry recommendations? Anything from specific poems to poet recommendations would be awesome!

Also thank you for doing what you do! You guys give me and my friends hope!

hello! we recommend the following from our collection:

Natalie Diaz – Centers indigenous perspective. Brilliant use and reframing of the English language in order to achieve this.

Jericho Brown – Distinct voice and interesting uses (and creation) of form. Themes focused on contemporary culture and identity. Just won a MacArthur.

Carl Phillips – Classical themes (in the sense of the ancients). Lyric work focused on loss, identity, and love (think someone similar to Louise Gluck)

June Jordan – Classic. Black woman activist, her poems have a distinct activist and justice bent (with a keen awareness of international solidarity) while still being full of love.

Paige Lewis – Space Struck, poems that are surreal, strange, and full of wonder. A good choice if you want something that has impact but is also a bit more fun.

thanks for asking <3

you can also browse our full poetry collection here! It will continue to grow as we do 💕

#queer liberation library #qll #asks #book recs #<3

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luvyeni · 9 hours ago

Text

MÉNAGE À TROIS ,, 钟辰乐 & 박지성

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ jisung walks in on you and chenle having sex … and you both don’t mind ヾ

boyfriend!钟辰乐・ FEM!reader ・ ‎ 박지성 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎2.4k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️ content warning . . . threesome, unprotected sex, oral ( M ), mxm themes, mxf themes, no real dom or sub themes, jisung could be seen as a sub, alludes to poly relationship

request. hello!! could you maybe write some smut where chenle is fucking yn and all of a sudden jisung enters their apartment and yn is like “i don’t care keep going” and eventually jisung finds them both and is invited to join

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i finished it , i hope you like it 🫶🏾✨

you didn’t even hear the door close; chenle on the other hand was always hyper aware of everything, even when he was balls deep inside you. “oh-oh fuck baby, fuck.” he struggled to get the words out. “fuck the door just opened , jisung is home.” he said in between moans. “fuck be quiet so he won’t hear.”

you and chenle started out as friends; along with jisung — you three were a threesome who eventually moved in together. about a year into moving in together you and chenle entered a relationship, but you two never left jisung out; you guys did everything together still, but he still gave you two private time. “he’s gonna hear.”

you wrapped your legs around the man’s waist , keeping him from pulling out. “fuck i don’t care , keep going.” you moaned. “let him hear , don’t stop fucking me please.” you could feel the man above you twitching inside you. “fuck you want him to hear?” chenle said. he knew about the little infatuation you held with the younger boy, he knew you’d never cheat on him, but hearing you say this made him wonder how many times have you moaned a little bit too loud just for the boys amusement. “fucking slut.”

he grabbed your legs, almost folding them in half. “you want him to hear me fucking you?” he groaned. “give him some material to jerk off to?” him saying that affected himself more than you, the thought of his best friend stroking his cock to the thought of you two fucking. “sh-shit.” he cursed , you smirked. “se-seems like you want him to hear you as well.” that earned a slap to your cunt. “fucking slut shut up, gonna cum in this pussy , let him hear you cum.”

jisung on the other hand, he was unaware — his headphones shielding him from the outside noises. he was supposed to be working tonight, but his shift was cut short and all his other friends were busy so he was forced to come home. he didn’t mind being home, he loved it there, but he couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel sometimes. often left out of plans and having to make plans so you two can have private time. no you two never forced him to do that , but he could just tell when you wanted to be alone as a couple, and you did always try to include him in everything but you two were a couple and he didn’t just want to be there on obligation.

so maybe it was all in his head, but that was him. was he jealous of you two? no, he was happy his two bestest friends found love in each other — maybe he wished he could find something like that… or be a part of the original.

jisung never really struggled with his sexuality; he always knew he liked girls, that was a fact. but he also felt that small attraction to the same sex, there’s only so many times he can pop a boner at the gym sauna when looking at a naked guy before you just came to terms with it and jisung had.

did he find you both attractive? yes he was; but, out of respect for the both of you and your friendships he didn’t say anything… even if he did sometimes hear you two going at it — biting down on his shirt as he fisted his cock to the sounds of both of you moaning. the post nut clarity always left him disgusted with himself, unable to look both of you in his eye the next morning feeling like a pervert.

he was always successful in never walking in on you both; that would have been so awkward, especially if you both happened to lower your eyes and notice his hard on, but he was soon about to mess up that streak all because of those stupid noise blocking headphones you bought out of guilt. “chenle fuck im gonna cum!”

chenle was still plowing into you. “cum slut.” the knots in your stomach tightening, gripping the sheets. “fuck im gonna cum too.” both of you moaning, ready to cum. “oh fuck!” the door came swinging open, right as you both hit your highs. “shit chenle im cumming!”

jisung stood there, he couldn’t hear what just happened— but the visual he was given, your eyes rolling and his other male counterparts head rolling back, he could tell what just happened… and he was mortified. “oh my god, i'm so sorry.”

the two of you didn’t even notice him, until he said something. chenle smirked down at you hearing the boy's voice, his head turning around to face his friend. “i see those headphones work.” he said. “unless you wanted to walk in just as we were cumming together.”

he snatched the headphones off his head. “no-no i swear i didn’t hear anything and the door was open so i thought– chenle leave him alone.” you ran your fingers through your hair. “what? he’s the one still standing there watching like a perv while im still inside you.” you boyfriend said. “yeah and your cock is harder than before with this knowledge, so his company doesn’t seem to bother you.”

jisung couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “i-im sorry, i swear i’ll leave you alone, i have these.” he nervously held the headphones, praying to whoever above you both didn’t notice his hard on. “why just so you can go in your room and jerk off , only to ignore us the next morning?” that made his cock twitch. “n-no im- jesus chen , spare him at least if you’re not gonna give him head.” the younger boy's eyes widened. “huh?”

“do you want me to suck you off?” chenle asked ever so nonchalantly, jisung was speechless. “of course he does, he’s been standing there with a hard on for a minute.” you smirked, eyes traveling down to his pants, he tried to cover it up. “i-i don’t know what to say.” he couldn’t tell if you two were playing with him. “well if he’s good at sucking dick like he is at eating pussy, i’d say yes.” you tapped chenle, signaling him to pull out.

you got up from the bed; making your way over to the boy; he felt like he was in a dream, he walked in on his friends fucking, now his fully nude best friend was guiding him to the bed were he was about to get head from his other friend. “sit down.” you pushed him down against the bed.

chenle sat back on his legs, watching you unbuckle another man’s pants; his eyes traveled to his friends cock popping out from his jeans; he’d seen it in his sweats, and he accidentally walked in on him numerous times, but it looked much bigger when he was hard. “think you can fit him in your mouth?” you asked your boyfriend, that made jisung groan. “this coming from mrs.i can’t give a blow job to save my life.” you scoffed. “remember that when you’re begging me to give you head… again.”

you two put your playful banter aside for the boy who still was pale as a ghost. “don’t be nervous.” you kissed his neck. “we’ll take care of you.” you sucked little hickeys down his neck. “don’t we always?” you bit down gently on his ear. “ye-yeah.” jisung stuttered. “you look like you’re about to cum already.” chenle wrapped his hands around the younger boy's cock. “fu-fuck.” he moaned as he began to stroke him, jisung prayed he didn’t cum soon. “are you really that sensitive?”

chenle pushed the boys legs open further, bring his lips down to his cock blowing in the boys tip making his hips buck. “fuck please.” jisung whimpered. “fuck.” his head was thrown back as his friend lowered his head down on his cock. “oh my god.” you smirked. “feel good?” jisung nodded.

chenle bobbed his head up and down on jisungs length, the tip of his friends cock kissing the back of his throat. “come here.” you grabbed the boys cheeks. “so cute.” you brought his lips against yours, taking his hands, bringing it down to your boobs; down your stomach and in between your legs. he moaned against your mouth feeling your wetness on his fingers, he often thought about doing this while he jerked himself off.

you pulled away he moaned as chenle sucked harder on his cock. “fu-fuck you’re so wet.” he moved his fingers up and down your slit. “fu-fuck ji.” you moaned. “put them in.” he pushed his slender finger past your hole. “shit.” you moaned as he curled his finger inside you. “you’re fucking good at that, gonna make me cum.”

jisung could already feel his orgasm approaching as well. “ch-chenle.” the older boy's cock jumped hearing the boy moan his name like that, it encouraged him to go faster. “oh wait fuck!” he groaned, he tried to stop the boy but you were currently riding his fingers and his other just wouldn’t cut it. “fuck im cumming!” you screamed just as the younger boy's head tipped back as his orgasm took over. “fuck!”

chenle pulled off the boy's cock, just in time because the boy was shooting sticky cum from his cock almost immediately, he jerked the boy off pulling more cum from him. “fuck look at both of you.” chenle said, his voice a little sore. “so fucked up, im glad you two got what you wanted im still fucking hard.”

jisung pulled his fingers out of you, your orgasm dripping down his hand. “don’t let it go to waste, taste it.” chenle ordered, jisung brought his fingers to his lips, wrapping his lips around. “taste like fucking candy doesn’t she?” he hummed. “next time you can taste it straight from the source.” chenle said. “right now i need to fuck or be fucked by either one of you.”

“how about you both fuck me this time and then next time we switch?” this was the second time jisung had heard next time and he wasn’t mad at it — he doesn’t think he’d be able to fuck anyone after this experience again. “of course you say that always ready to be fucked.” chenle scoffed. “ji lay down and you in his lap then, you wanna be fuck by both of us? fine.” chenle slapped your ass watching you climb on top of the boy. “look how wet you made her ji, fucking dripping on your cock.”

chenle wrapped his hand around jisungs cock once again, holding it as you sunk down on it. “oh fuck.” jisung let out a whimper like moan. “shes fucking tight ain’t she?” jisung nodded. “so-so fucking tight.” you moaned out feeling chenles finger enter your hole. “about to stretch this pussy past her limits.” he groaned, stroking his cock. “show jisung how good this messy cunt is.”

he removed his finger, replacing it with his cock. “chenle!” you screamed, feeling him pushing his cock inside you. “shit.” jisung moved, feeling his friend's cock brushing against his, both of them trapped together in the wonder that is your cunt, squeezing them like a vice. “my god this feels good.” you moaned, moving your hips yourself. “look at you, so impatient -fuck- such a damn slut.”

he slapped your ass; watching it recoil. “re-really putting on a show for our boy here aren’t you.” you smiled down at the younger boy moaning. “fu-fuck yeah, how will i get him stay.”

jisung moaned, hearing you boy talk about him like that. “yeah that’s your -fuck- that’s your goal, fucking him so good he stays?” you nodded, chenle grabbed your hips. “well then let me help put in some work, give him an even better reason.” he began to speed up, jisung hips bucked unintentionally , the feeling of your cunt tightening around his cock, paired with his friend's cock rubbing against his. “sh-shit i love this so much.” jisung groaned. “so fucking much.”

the room was smoldering hot; sweat dripping down from each of you, your skin slapping against each other — all three of you moaning. you were the first one to cum , your body shaking as you came with a loud porn like scream. “shit.” chenle moaned our feeling your cunt convulse around him. “fuck im gonna cum, gonna fucking cum inside you.” he moaned, cock twitch as spurts of white shot inside you.

jisung was last to cum, you held his face in your hand. “im gonna cum.” he said. “i-i need to pull out.” he groaned. “no don't, please don't pull out.” jisung looked to chenle , who was still inside you. “fu-fuck you heard her, she wants to be used as a cum dump, then do what she wants…” chenle said. “cum inside her.”

that’s all jisung needed before he was cumming. “oh fuck!” he moaned, cumming. your eyes were fucked out as you laid against the boys chest. “we fucked her dumb ji , she gets real mushy afterwards.” chenle pulled out, watching the cum spill from your cunt. “sh-shut up.”

“get up.” chenle playfully slapped your ass. “chenle stop.” jisung found a small bit of comfort in how playful you two were afterwards, it wasn’t awkward at all. “jisung just twitched inside me.” you teased the younger boy. “did seeing him do that make you feel something?” his face turned an even deeper red. “you’re gonna have to stop being so timid if you want to continue this.” chenle said.

“this?” he said, he never thought it would go further than maybe once or twice — three times if he prayed hard enough. “you think i would’ve put your cock in my mouth if i didn’t plan on having you do the same to me eventually?” you chuckled seeing the boy's face. “chenle you have to lean slowly into that , not everyone likes giving head.”

“ji ji , let’s go shower.” you stood up, holding your hand out. “you want to shower with me?” you nodded. “chenle hates showering with me.” the older boy rolled his eyes. “because you keep the water temperature at hell, so no i don’t like seeing my skin steaming as it cooks me from the inside.” he grumbled. “both of you go shower and i’ll change the sheets , and order some food.”

jisung took your hand and you guided him to the bathroom. “come.” you called him over once you reached the bathroom. “if you can be quiet then i’ll show that chenle is just being a dick when he said i can’t give head , i just like to withhold it from him to piss him off.” jisung felt like he was in heaven.

chenle on the other hand was still grumbling as he fixed the bedsheets. “this is crazy.” he said to himself. “I found two people who hate giving head , but love getting head.”

he still couldn’t help but smile though…

©️LUVYENI

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cookiealchemieart · 3 days ago

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By shockingly popular demand; fan princess lore! this might take a bit, so im gonna do the princesses in diff reblogs The Magician

Give Deconstructing Damsel the blade. She'll misinterpret it as you wanting her to stab you, which she does. "Wow! You're dying again!" "Are you happy? Was I supposed to do that?" As you die, she looks at the blade; seemingly mesmerized. She pauses for a long moment, before turning to you again; puddle of cooling blood you lay in. "I think I'll hold onto this. Next time, I'll save you! That'll make you happy, right?" Everything goes dark, and you die. The Magician is a love letter to magical girl media, so in this chapter 3 she becomes the heroine to rescue you! It's like princess and dragon in the way that you are in the Princess' position, but you are still you. She skips down the stairs, happy to see and save you; though the narrator is livid and tries to make your body wrench the blade from her hands. As for additional voices for this chapter I'm thinking paranoid or contrarian depending on how far you let her deconstruct before giving her the blade. If you let him, you slay her. "Oh. I just wanted to make you happy...like how you made me...I'm sorry, did I do it wrong?" and the hands take her, blade in her heart. If you resist, she engages the narrator within you in whole magical girl fight, using the blade as a magical wand and wrenching him from you. You guys smooch, and ride off into the sunset, though stepping out of the cabin again the Magician notes "It's a lot colder than it was on the way here...That's okay. I'm still warm next to you..." and the hands take her. >What are your thoughts on this vessel? This one is hope, but also naivete. As you made her to love you, she made you to love her back in the way she knew how. She will make for an innocent heart. Do not mourn her, for she is loved.

Some fan princesses before i go to bed. Lore on them in the morning if anyone cares put ut in the tags if ya want that ig

#slay the princess #ocs #fan princess

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didnt-hear-cold-as-you-live · 13 hours ago

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People have been asking me for the past few days how they can still get the Florida shirt, and now that I've taken my whole Etsy shop down to keep my account safe, how they can get some of my stuff for the holidays while I'm figuring out what platform to shift to, so! I have spent all day working on the current temporary solution: A cute little catalogue you can order fan merch from, like the kind you'd get in the mail in the 90's except digital.

Pricing, sizing, color info, and easy ways to identify each item are included on each slide and with each product image. If you'd like to order something (or have questions!) you can just shoot me a DM or email me at [email protected]. Checkout via PayPal Goods & Services which requires tracking #'s to be provided and offers robust buyer protection.

I know this isn't ideal but the idea of people wanting to get stuff from me and then buying shitty knockoffs on Temu, plus having lowkey no income right now thanks to my shop being down, has been tearing me to shreds for the last 3 days, so. If you were planning on buying some fan merch from me this holiday season, please consider still doing so :') Love you guys hope you enjoy this and don't think it's stupid

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subcultureblues · 22 hours ago

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Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 1

Steve and Eddie have been hooking up and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

———

“For the record, I still think this is dumb.” Lucas said over the wind.

“Yeah, well, you’re dumb.” Mike said, sharp witted as always.

“Got you there.” Will grinned, sidling up beside him on his bike. Mike shot him a look, vaguely betrayed. Will shrugged innocently and kept peddling.

“Alright, alright, let the court record reflect you’re both morons.” Dustin sighed, peddling between the bickerer’s bikes and cutting ahead.

All four boys skirted to a stop outside the trailer park. Dustin wiped at his forehead under his cap, the humidity creeping back up on them as soon as the air stopped it’s rushing by.

“Dude, if Eddie wasn’t picking up the phone, well, there’s probably a reason for that.” Lucas said, in that tone of his. The demeaning one.

Dustin just shook his head. Name one good reason to ignore your party? One good reason. Dustin certainly couldn’t!

He started walking his bike up through the dusty lot, leaving the rest with little choice but to march ever onward.

“Maybe he’s still sleeping.” Will said, lingering a bit behind the pack.

“At 1 in the afternoon?” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“What? He does, like,” Mike’s voice dropped to a paranoid whisper. “weed, right? Jonathan’s always sleeping in?” Mike looked behind them at Will, who shrugged.

“Eddie,” Dustin said his name rather uncharitably but he’s at his limit here, really, he is “has been dodgy weeks now. Doesn’t answer the phone, he’s never free on the weekend, never hangs out after Hellfire anymore - I’m telling you guys, somethings up.”

“Or maybe - he’s finally graduated after the third try and he’s tired of hanging around high schoolers all the time.” Lucas rolled his eyes.

Dustin shook his head at Lucas, because that can’t be it. Eddie loves them. Well, he loves Dustin and likes the rest of Hellfire’s fresh meat well enough. They bonded, alright? - after everything they went through in the Upside Down. Hell, they’re practically brothers. And it’s not just Dustin who thinks that, Eddie had said it first. Well, he called him ‘the little brother I never wanted’ but had said so sarcastically. Obviously, he’d meant the opposite.

Hard to feel wanted right now though, considering as of circa maybe a month ago, Eddie’s been MIA. He still shows up to Hellfire, obviously. But that was about it.

After stopping the clock on the apocalypse and banding together to clear Eddie’s good name, it kind of become a thing - Eddie taking them out to get slushies after a game. Calling up Eddie to tell him, not ask, but tell him they were all going to the arcade. He’d even gone to Eddie’s trailer a few times so he could help Dustin homebrew his subclass!

Steve had started tagging along too, usually. Him and Eddie even getting started to get less awkward around each other after a while. Not best friends or anything, Not like Dustin was hoping. But friendly. It had been totally awesome! And totally annoying that he had mysteriously gone to ground.

It’s possible Dustin’s being, well he doesn’t want to say needy...

It’s just, Steve started picking up extra shifts at work and spending a whole lot of time with Robin. Not that Dustin didn’t support their relationship. Steve’s been single so long, it hadn’t started verging on pathetic exactly, but it was a near thing.

It’s just hard for a guy not to feel neglected.

The four boys had almost reached the trailer when they heard it. At first Dustin dismissed it, surely the trailer next doors’ doing. But no, that music definitely coming from Eddie’s.

That in and of itself, wouldn’t be unusual. Eddie is likely the loudest human being on the planet. No, the weird part is it’s not thrashy, garbage can lid, Eddie-music but goddamn…

“Is that - “ Mike said, trailing off from sheer befuddlement.

“Culture Club.” Lucas could barely hide the cackle in his voice.

“What in the -“ Dustin muttered, throwing his bike in the grass and wandering up to the door like it was a gate to another dimension. For all he knows, it might just be.

“Eddie?” He knocked on the door. Nothing. He tried again. Obviously, someone’s home.

Dustin’s only met the man briefly but he didn’t take Munson Sr for being the bubblegum pop type.

Besides, Mr. Munson certainly wouldn’t be playing anything this loud unless those late nights at the plant had him going deaf. Dustin peeked through the window into the living room. More nothing.

“Oh man.” Lucas shoved him to press his face against the glass too. There was a slow smile creeping across his face, like he was suddenly overjoyed they had come to the trailer park after all. Lucas wasn’t gonna let their DM live this one down, not any time soon. “I thought he was supposed to be cool.”

“He is cool.” Mike said.

Dustin just sighed, threw his hands up, and started rounding the corner of the RV. Eddie’s van was here, ergo Eddie. Dustin was sure he’d be lurking around here somewhere. The rest of the boys followed, their previous hesitation now nowhere to be seen.

“Come on.” He gestured towards the window. They all leaned in and Dustin was already furiously rapping on the window. “Ed - “

Dustin’s eyes went wide. And maybe his face a bit pink.

Eddie was here alright.

He was laying in bed. Very much not alone. There were two of them, lying in bed together. They were under the covers but Eddie was sprawled out on top of someone, a thick curtain of hair hanging over both faces. Clearly, ew, kissing, based on, and Dustin might be scarred for life here, a hand gripping Eddie’s hair at the base of his neck.

As for the tunes, the obvious culprit was in the corner of the room. Eddie’s little cassette stereo.

“Eddie?” Dustin blanched before he could stop himself. And it was of course, in that exact moment Culture Club decided to betray them and the tape cut out.

Will went to shush him, grabbing his shoulder to drag him away but oh no, Eddie definitely heard something. The guy squawked and jolted up in bed, swooping the covers up to hide them both in their immodesty. Eddie’s eyes peaked over his elbow like a vampire leering over his cloak. He gaped at the window, clearly rather horrified.

The boys all threw themselves out of the frame, Dustin pressing up against the back of the trailer.

“What the fuck - “ he heard Eddie say. “What the fuck.” He sounded almost angry but closer to panicked. There was a vague whispering match, but whispering was never really Eddie’s strong suit, so they heard him just fine.

They heard something like a grown man crashing off the bed and gracelessly hit the floor.

“Relax.” Eddie said, though he did not himself sound relaxed. “No, it’s fine. We’re cool. You need to - I need you cool right now.”

“I know, I know, I know. I know! Christ, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t - I’ll deal with it. Just - “

The boys were already turning tail and scurrying back to their bikes. Gone entirely red in the face.

“I told you this was a bad idea.” Mike said, the hypocrite bastard.

“No you did not!” Dustin huffed.

The front door swung open with a bang and Eddie came spilling out towards them as he, oh gross, scrambled to get into his jeans. He was still shirtless and sweaty, hair fluffed up like an angry cat. Looking rather frantic.

“It’s not what it looks like!” He actually looked properly pissed, hands shaking with it as he did up his fly.

“We didn’t see anything.” Lucas put his hands up, but the guilty way he refused to meet Eddie’s eyes kind of gave up the game.

“Nothing!” Will squeaked, beet red and squeezing his eyes closed tight. Just in case they hadn’t made themselves look incriminating enough.

“God, of all the shit fucking timing -“ Eddie’s fist clenched up in front of him and he let out a frustrated noise, eyes darting around the trailer park. “Look I can explain. If you just, ergh, give me a minute to think of something.”

“No need! We didn’t see anything, promise.” Mike assured him again, his voice nearly steady. Good for him.

“Right so. I guess, did I mention I’ve take up recently taken up semi pro Grecian wrestling - “

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Dustin couldn’t help interrupting him. Lucas smacked him. He gave Lucas a face, which was returned, so Dustin did it again even harder. But fuck Lucas cause it may have been the right thing to say. Eddie stopped fluttering, looked right at him. Squinted, scanning his face.

“You know you can just tell us. If you did. You could have just told us in the first place.” Dustin didn’t get why Eddie wouldn’t. Did Eddie think this kind of thing was too ‘grown up’ for them. They were high school freshman for Christ sake! The only one of their little crew who didn’t have a girlfriend was Will. And I guess Steve.

Allegedly.

Of course, Dustin didn’t believe that for a second.

“I - what?” Eddie perked up.

“If you had a girlfriend. Do you? Is that - “

Eddie huffed out a hysterical laugh. It was weird. But then, Eddie wasn’t exactly the poster child for Normal. Dustin crossed his arms.

“Sure. Yeah.” He took a big breath as he looked behind him back into the trailer. “I have a... my girlfriend.”

“Sorry. For coming over.” Will said, timid like a mouse.

“It was Dustin’s idea.” He took Mike for many things but never a rat. Dustin sputtered indignantly, throwing up his hands.

“And we didn’t even see anything, really! So if you’re worried about your girlfriend’s modesty, like - we didn’t see anything, we swear! Right guys?.” Lucas insisted. Mike and Will bobbleheaded in agreement.

“What the hell are you squirts doing here, anyways?” Eddie said, scrubbing roughly at his forehead.

“I needed to get my binder.” Dustin said flatly. And maybe to remind Eddie that hey, he’s still here too. Like, right here.

“Your fucking - “ Eddie said in disbelief, and then he laughed. “Your binder.”

“You weren’t answering the phone.”

“Yeah well I was busy.” Eddie said, eyes wide and awfully antagonistic.

“Busy getting busy.”

Eddie turned his wild eyes on Lucas

“Thin ice, Sinclair. Thin fucking ice.”

That just made him chuckle again. At least he half tried to hide it behind his hand. But Lucas always was the least cowed by Eddie.

“Is this why you haven’t been hanging around anymore, like all month.”

“Jesus. Henderson, I’m sorry, ok? Hard as it is to believe, I do have a fucking life outside the game.” Yeah, Dustin thought, it was pretty hard to believe. “Look, just give me a second.”

“I’ll be quick - “ Dustin made a move to come inside.

“No.” Eddie firmly hip checked him out of the way.

Eddie slipped back into the trailer. Through the open door Dustin could just barely make out the words.

“False alarm. No - actually. I’m being serious. They think - “

They think what? Think they have a right to be here at Eddie’s trailer. Taking up space in Eddie’s life. Well they do. The party almost died saving the world side by side with Eddie, they had more right to be here than that - Dustin just grumbled. He wouldn’t call her a harlot. But only because Susie’s voice was already in the back of his head, admonishing the thought.

Eddie came back and pushed the binder hard into Dustin’s chest. He was stumbled back a step. “Now scram.” He said, not leaving room for Dustin to get a word in edgewise.

“Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around but I… See you at Hellfire, ok?” Eddie slammed the door in their faces.

“How great could this even chick be?” Dustin frowned. Great enough to edge the party out of Eddie’s life it seems like.

The other boys just shrugged. They all picked up their bikes.

“I mean, why can’t he just like, bring her along when we hang out or something.”

“I told you, maybe he just wants to hang out with someone his own age for once.” Lucas said.

Maybe Eddie’s too cool to bring his new girlfriend around his dorky freshmen friends. Is he embarrassed to introduce them to her or something.

“Come on.” Will said. “We should get back to Mike’s.”

“Yeah. Yeah whatever.” Dustin said.

———

“So our parents said me and Mike and Lucas could go to the arcade for an hour before it gets dark.” Dustin said to Eddie as they walked through the empty school hallway after Hellfire.

“No can do, compadre. Fight the good fight against those Space Invaders in my steed, yeah?” Eddie grinned down at him over the few boxes of mini in his hands.

Dustin huffed.

“What? Too busy hanging out with your girlfriend? Dustin said petulantly. “Just bring her along if your - “

The three most senior PC’s in Hellfire skid to a stop in front of them. Dustin and Eddie nearly walked straight into the wall of them. It was almost comical the way all their heads swiveled around to oogle at him. Jeff only just managed to choke back a chortle.

Dustin was honestly offended on Eddie’s behalf. Sure, dude was a drug dealing, super duper senior nerd/freak/metalhead combo who had been semi-recently accused of ritualistic dismemberment - but certainly someone was into that.

“My -? Oh yeah my, my - that.” Eddie winced, avoiding many, many eyes.

“Oh, and you have a girlfriend now do you?” Gareth huffed a laugh, in clear disbelief. Eddie glared daggers at him.

Dustin really didn’t see why it was that hard to believe. Eddie was like, really cool. It was an indisputable fact. If all of them could see it, why couldn’t some weird, off the wall alt girl see it too.

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you. Any one of you.” Pointing rapidly at all three of them, like he was warding off the words waiting right at the tip of their tongues.

“So who’s the lucky lady, Munson?” Jared said, like he had ‘held action, Vicious Mockery’ and simply couldn’t help himself. He was fighting a positively delighted smile. Eddie flushed.

“The DM giveth and the DM taketh away, and you would be very wise to remember that, Ser Elias!” Eddie said loudly, still jabbing his finger about like it made him more authoritative.

“Sorry man, just joking around.” Jeff grinned good naturedly.

“Yeah, I mean, good for you dude.” Gareth said, with a genuine smile. He tapped Eddie on the chest who childishly batted Gareth’s hand away.

“No, don’t do that. I - seriously guys, we’re not - it’s not like that. I’m not ‘dating’ anyone.” Eddie deflated, looking uncomfortable. The unflappable Eddie, looking all too flappable after all. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear and huffed. “Just someone I’ve been screwing around with alright.”

Eddie walked past them. Dustin almost felt bad for bringing it up. Almost.

He turned to Gareth.

“So you guys don’t have any idea who it is?”

The guys looked around at each other, all of them shrugging.

“Who knows.” Jared shrugged again, this one still no more helpful than the last.

“Unless,” Gareth straight up giggles, “it’s that suburban mom Eddie’s been swooning over since sophomore year.”

“Yeah right.” Jared chuckled, shoving Gareth forward. They all continued walking.

“That… doesn’t seem like his type.” Dustin said, suddenly confused and perturbed and feeling like he doesn’t know Eddie Munson at all.

“You’d be surprised.” Jared grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

They exited the school just in time to see Steve getting out of the car. Usually after Hellfire he didn’t bother. He just wanted to get the kids rounded up and out of the parking lot as quickly as he could ever really manage. Not today though. Eddie walked to Steve’s Beemer, parked in the stall next to his van.

“Munson.” He said with a small smile. He grabbed one of a few boxes of minis out of Eddie’s arms.

“Uh, Harrington.” Eddie gave a hesitant smile, before bowing his head with predictable theatrically.

“Hi, Steve.” Dustin said from behind. Steve gave him a fond nod before looking back up to the DM.

“So, uh, how was the session?” He said kind of awkwardly.

“Bordering on child abuse.” Eddie beamed.

“I got knocked out, twice.” Lucas windged, holding up two fingers.

“Whatever keeps you humble.” Steve shrugged. He turned back to Eddie. “So. Uh. Any plans for this weekend?”

Eddie blinked, then he raised his eyebrows with a haughty grin. “Dunno, had a few things in mind.” He shrugged.

“Cool. That’s cool. I did too. But uh, then my parents came home from their trip early.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “So, you know, guess there go my plans for the weekend.”

“Huh.” Eddie frowned. “Bummer.”

“Shotgun!” Dustin decided, throwing open the passenger side door.

Mike, Lucas, and Will who also couldn’t care less about their inane small talk, were already piling into Steve’s car. Steve was lingering though, helping Eddie load his stuff into the van. Dustin’s glad they’re making an effort to be friendly acquaintances, especially since he’s pretty sure it’s mostly for his own sake. But come on, it was like, 3 small boxes. They had space invasions to thwart.

And of course, Lucas was still bitching at Dustin about his failure to come through with a healing spell.

“I’m a bard, what did you want me to do?” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“You have healing word!” Lucas said, to which Dustin roll his eyes. Again.

“Which does like, 2D-nothing!” He looked out the window, wishing Steve would hurry the hell up already. Him and Eddie were still talking? What the hell did those two even have to talk about? Eddie was giving Steve an optimistic grin, but Steve was just shaking his head.

“Healing touch than!” Lucas groused.

“Well, then you should have thought about that before you went down thirty-five feet away.”

“You could have dashed.” Lucas crossed his arms.

“Ugh. That would have defeated the whole - ugh!” Dustin rolled the window down impatiently. “Steve is it cool if I eat in your car?“ Dustin hollered. He wasn’t actually gonna, he just knew how to get the man’s attention.

“Absolutely not! You know the rules.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a granola bar! Nature Valley.” Dustin shouted back.

“Don’t even think about it Henderson!” Steve said, already rounding the car. Eddie laughed brightly.

“Harrington?” He said.

“I - Yeah. Fine. Fine, alright.” Steve said to which Eddie smiled triumphantly. That better mean they were done with their little pow-wow.

Eddie climbed into his own vehicle. Steve opened the Beemer’s drivers side door but he didn’t get in yet. Instead he stood there running his hand through his hair muttering something to himself.

“See ya, nerds!” Eddie called out, lowering his own window. There was a chorus of goodbyes from the Beemer. “And Harrington -“ He started the van and a blast of guitar poured out. He smiled that Eddie smile. “You worry too much.” He said. And then he swept out of the parking lot with the sound of his obnoxious music on the wind.

“Yeah. Sure.” Steve said sarcastically. He got behind the wheel, Dustin’s threat of snacking seemingly forgotten.

“What was that about?”

Steve just waved him off and started the car.

Dustin eyed Steve skeptically. So what, were Steve and Eddie like, actually friends now or something?

Maybe he knows.

After a few minutes, Dustin finally broke and asked.

“Soooo, do you know who Eddie’s been seeing?”

“What?” Steve says, nearly swerving over the line.

“Jesus!” Lucas swore from the back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve chuckled awkwardly, eyes now, thankfully, firmly fixed on the road.

“Of course he’s not gonna tell Steve.” Mike grumbled.

Dustin stroked an imaginary beard. The fog of mystery only grew thicker and thicker.

“His secret girlfriend.” Mike said, like a little know it all.

Steve just huffed a, sure.

“I bet she’s like, some badass metal chick.” Mike said reverently, looking out the window. “She probably has like face piercings and crazy dyed hair. Or like a shaved head or something cool like that.”

Dustin sighed. She probably was badass. Way cooler than they were. Way too cool to bring around the dork squad.

“Does that sound like anyone you’ve seen around here?” Lucas said skeptically.

“Yeah, I dunno. Gareth said he was into like… suburban moms.” Dustin grimaced.

“Excuse me?” Steve sputtered.

Will made a disgusted noise.

“I know.” Dustin shivered.

“Better watch out for your mom then.” Lucas snickered. Dustin shot him a dirty look.

“Yeah, no way.” Mike shook his head. “He had to be messing with you or something. Eddie probably has like, groupies and stuff.”

“Please. That man has no game.” Lucas said. Steve snorted but played it off like a cough.

“That man runs the game.” Dustin said defensively.

“You know that’s not what that means.” Lucas said.

“The real question is, how long has this little dalliance been going on for?” Dustin pondered.

“Hey, you nosey little twerps. I really don’t think this is like, any of your business.”

“At least a few weeks right?” Lucas spoke up.

“And how do you know that?” Mike said.

“Cause that’s how long it’s been that Eddie’s been using the phrase ‘busy’ to get out of stuff. I mean he’s a jobless, drug peddling hobo, I don’t think I’ve seen Eddie be busy like, ever.” Lucas said, scratching his chin. “Until a few weeks ago that is.”

Dustin grinned widely. “It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”

“It’s invasive is what it is.” Steve grumbled. “Also, he’s not a hobo. He has a house.”

“Well, I guess, technically it’s a trailer.” Will said, rather pedantically.

“Well, it’s got four walls. And he lives inside them. Ergo…”

“He’s also been a lot nicer.” Will said thoughtfully.

“Huh?” Dustin and Steve said, and looked at him in unison.

“The last couple weeks, don’t you think?” Will said, smiling faintly. “He’s been nicer than usual. Or happier. I guess.”

“I guess.” Dustin said.

“You think?” Steve said.

“Okay,” Dustin should have a houndstooth cap and a pipe. “We have our timeline. Now, we need to root out suspects.”

“Alright, this, whatever this is, stops here. You nosey little twerps need to mind your own business.”

“But - “

“I don’t want to hear it. No buts.”

And that was the end of that. For now at least.

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#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Dustin Henderson

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