#i appreciate you setting me straight though

[soxcietyy]

Trouble

Yuta x reader 18+

forbidden romance, enemy’s to lovers

You are now an instructor at Jujutsu tech because of your protective older brother Megumi. He’s seen your bad luck with romance so he sets one rule in place. "No dating sorcerers, especially the ones who are heads of clans." Sounded easy enough until one comes into your class. Yuta Okkotsu.

Part 2

Hours pass, and Yuta slowly regains consciousness, his eyelids fluttering open. He glances around the room, confused, before his gaze settles on you sitting next to him. His eyes suddenly falling on you.

When they did his eyes grew wide but suddenly relaxed. He must of remember what had happened.

"You're really taking this caretaker role seriously, huh?" He tries to wiggle his fingers but still feels no response. "How long until I'm moving again?"

"Couple hours."

He stares at you for a real response.

"Maybe 8 hours…"

His eyebrows furrow slightly, his frustration clear.

"Eight hours?! You expect me to lie here like a invalid for eight more hours?!" He tries to sit up but his body remains unresponsive. "This is torture..."

"Shouldn’t have underestimated me Yuta." You point at his chest.

He glares at you as your finger touches his chest. Who knows what he would have done if he wernt paralyzed. You guys had a mutual dislike for each other so you wernt going to be surprised if he gets you back later on.

"Right, maybe next time no weapons and then we’ll see who is the better one." Yuta smiles.

You shrug and begin your walk to the bathroom. You pull out a few things from a closet and bring it back to the room where Yuta was resting.

"I need to get you out of here before my brother shows up." You say as you open a bottle. You put the liquid onto a Cotten ball and wipe it of a cut he has on his cheek.

You watch as he scrunches his face from the sudden stinging. Surprisingly he didn’t complain about the pain. You would have done this earlier but you didn’t want to wake him up from his sleep.

"You have a brother?" He asks.

You looked at him shocked. Megumi had asked him to help with funding your class. He didn’t tell him you guys were related. Which was weird…

"Yes I do. He’s very overprotective and isn’t fond of men the men in introduce him to or the ones I bring to my home."

You doubted he would show up today though. He was very busy with his duties that he usually only called one a month to check up on you. What was the chances of him showing up today?

"Hungry?" You ask him.

"Well, if you insist on winning my affection through food, better make it delicious." He smirks.

You roll your eyes at his response but decide to be nice to him since you manage to get him into this predicament.

"Can you make curry? And a side of tonkatsu. Crispy breaded pork cutlet. Don't forget the miso soup too. And maybe some gyoza on the side." He says with a straight face.

You let out a laugh. "Do I look like your personal chef? Not like you could afford one anyways. You’re lucky if you even get noodles from the convenient store."

His brow raises at what you just said. He didn’t bother to say anything else but decided to close his eyes.

You sigh before getting up to the kitchen. You’re only making it because this is your fault. After today no more being nice, no more being pushed around. This was only a one time thing and then you ain’t have to see him around anymore. You just needed to deal with him until the poison ware’s off.

After a few hours you come into the room with a tray full of food. When you walked in he was resting peacefully with the sun shinning on him. He almost looked like a nice guy.

"Wake up, lunch is here." You say placing it on his lap.

He glances up at you, a hint of frustration mingled with appreciation in his eyes. "Yep, still paralyzed. So... unless you want me starving amidst this feast, you might have to help." Despite the inconvenience, a playful smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

You take a seat next to him on your bed. Reaching over him you grab the spoon and scoop up a full spoon of curry. You lift it up towards him but quickly redirects it into your mouth.

He watches in disbelief as you eat the bite meant for him, his eyes wide and slightly hurt. "Hey! You’re here to feed me not yourself."

You laugh and got another spoonful of food for him this time. He chews slowly, savoring the rich flavor before swallowing. "It's really good..." He admits reluctantly, his gaze flicking between your face and the spoon in your hand.

You kept on feeding him until the bowls of food were cleaned off. He mentioned being full a while ago but you didn’t cook all of this for it to just be discarded at the end.

You gently wipe his face with the napkin, Yuta blushes slightly, unused to such intimate gestures. He watches you with a curious gaze. You ignored him and pulled your hand away once you finished cleaning his mouth.

You quickly pick everything up and put it on the tray. Removing it from his lap and taking it to the dinning table. You wernt sure what you were supposed to do now. It’s not like he would fall asleep anytime soon.

As you thought about something to do you hear a loud knock startling you. You quickly stand and face the door to see a shadow standing there.

You didn’t invite anyone over, nor would anyone find voluntarily unless…

"Who is it?" You yell.

You wait for a few second until you heard a loud sigh from the other side of the door.

"It’s me, now open the door."

You recognized the voice anywhere. It was your one and only brother Megumi.

You run to your room and reach for the handle. Yuta looked at you confused but you had no time to explain, you slam the door shut and run to the front door to see him standing inside already.

"What took you so long?" He asks.

"I uh, was ironing my slacks! Didn’t want to leave flat iron out like that. Anyways what brings you here?! Arnt you busy?! Since you know, you’re the head of the Zenin clan?!" You say.

He gives you a small smile, "I was just nervous for you. It’s your first day and all."

"No need to worry Megumi it went by smoothly." You grab his arm and direct him towards the exit.

You had to get him to leave immediately. If Yuta somehow managed to leave the room these two boys would meet each other and you would never hear the end of it.

"That’s not what I heard." He gives you a hard look.

Uh oh what did he hear? Did one of the workers see you dragging a boy home? You knew you should have been more careful. These women have nothing better to do than gossip around.

"What are you talking about?" You ask nervously.

Megumi walked away from you towards the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out some dumplings you were saving for later. Normally you would of snatched them out of his hand but maybe that wasn’t the right thing to do right now.

"You got into a fight."

You stared at him stunned. You didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or still be scared. He knew about Yuta but not that he was currently 20ft away.

You didn’t say anything scared that something might slip out. Images you watched him warm the dumpling up and how he walk to the pantry to pull out a sauce.

"With Yuta Okkotsu, do you know who he is? he-"

"He’s the one who funded my class I know already and it was a mistake. Not really." You mumbled the last part under your breath.

"He’s more than just that actually." Megumi sighs and takes a dumpling. He blows on it to cool it down before taking a bite out of it.

"I actually don’t care who that asshole is." You sit next to your brother.

Your stomach rumbled as you watched him eat. Right you haven’t gotten to eat all day because your busy playing caretaker. You were planning on eating before your brother had shown up though.

You look down and see that your brother pushed the plate towards you. You couldn’t help but look at him with a guilty expression. He wanted you to not involved with sorcerers but here you are betraying him.

Were you though? There was nothing romantic going on. You were just paying for what happened.

You take the chopsticks from his hand and took a dumpling. It was the best thing you’ve eaten all day.

"Before I go, I wanted to ask one more thing." He says standing up.

You were too busy eating to ask him what it was but there was no need. He asked the question immediately not giving you time to swallow the food in your mouth.

"Who else is here?"

You froze. Eyes slowly averting to meet your brother’s gaze.

How the hell dod he know?!

"How could it be possible for you to be hungry when I see a tray full of empty dishes on the counter? Not only that but two pairs of shoes in the entrance, one clearly belonging to a male."

You curse yourself for being so stupid.

"Megumi, please don’t embarrass in front of him. I know that you dragged me here to get away from men and romance for a bit but I couldn’t help it. I met him when I stopped by a breakfast bar. It was just meant to be." You had no idea what you were saying.

He glared at you before turning around and walking to the door. He didn’t bother looking back at you as you called out his name.

He quickly slipped his shoes on and kicked Yutas shoes to the side.

It wasn’t long before he was out of your sight.

"Fuck" you run your hands over your face.

What now? He was clearly mad about the situation. He would have been furious if he found out he wasn’t a normal person.

He couldn’t be mad forever. You just had to give him time.

"I can’t believe it. Your Megumis little sister."

You turn around so quickly that you almost fell. That voice… there’s no way it’s-

"Yuta, how? What?!" You looked at him confused.

"I see it though, you guys have the same facial features and expressions." He steps closer and cups your face in his big hands.

How was he here right now?! He should be incapable of doing any movements.

"My body is pretty good at flushing out toxins. Not saying that they don’t work but it takes half the time for me to get over the symptoms. Now what here you saying? Something about us meeting being meant to be?"

You slap his hands away from you and walked passed him. He didn’t seem hurt by it seeing he had a smirk on his face.

"I was just saying things so he would leave. Me and you? Pft don’t make me laugh." You slide back into your seat to finish the dumplings on the table.

Yuta followed right behind you. Watching your every move. If he was feeling fine he should leave soon before your bother decides to come back.

"What’s wrong with us being a thing?" He steps closer and puts his hand on the back of your chair.

You don’t bother to look at him, instead you put your full attention to the food in front of you. "I’m not allowed to date sorcerers." You state.

"Is that right?" You hear a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

"I also don’t date assholes." You smile at him.

Yuta puts his other hand on the table. Trapping you into your seat. He was so close you could practically smell his cologne. Tobacco with a hint of wood.

A smirk forms on his lips, finding your rejection amusing rather than offensive "Strong words from someone who hasn't even given me a chance. You know what your problem is? You're too used to being treated like a precious doll. Let me guess - your brother wrapped you in cotton wool, right?"

His hand finds a place to rest on your thigh making you shudder. You guys were bickering not too long ago so what changed?

"I thought we had a mutual disdain for each other." You look at him trying to figure out if this was some sort of sick joke

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair "I don't know, maybe it's because you're siting there, looking at me like you hate my guts, when all I can think about is proving to you that I'm not as bad as you think I am."

"so how are you going to prove that your not a bad person?"

Without warning, he reaches out and takes your hand, his touch warm and surprisingly gentle "By starting over. I wasn’t so nice when we met today but after all of this… I see your not such a bad person after all. your a really kind person and it’s hard to find someone like that in the Jujutsu world."

He sighs fusterated," what I’m trying to say is that I want you to get to know the better me. the kind person I was before I became…" He stops talking and looks at you with a small smile.

Maybe he wasn’t such a bad person. Maybe he just needed someone by his side? You wernt sure if you were going to regret this. Dating someone you hardly knew. You just met him today too! But he’s somehow different.

"Fine, let’s start over."

Smiles genuinely, his eyes lighting up with relief and a hint of excitement "Good." He drops your hand but stays close, his tone softer now, "So, since we're starting over, let me ask you this - do you always cook and let strangers into your house?"

@lysaray

[aizawa2009]

DMSE = documenting my shifting experiences/journey day one

DISCLAIMER: my experiences are mine alone and what works for me may not work for you. however, i hope you can achieve insight from my choices and journey! starting this series over on tumblr (where to be fair, i did stop on tiktok cause it got annoying having to format it in photos). the same thing as when i did it on tiktok! just writing down my attempts, experiences and progress as logs. i don’t think i’ll format them as that would cause me to not want to write them down.

2025 - 1 - 20

PRE-ATTEMPT MINDSET

so to pre-face this, i’ve fortunately (unfortunately?) have been able to set my own sleep schedule for literally whenever wherever and for however long i’d like. this means i’ll sleep for like, ten hours straight and then be in a state of half awake half asleep where i’m still dreaming but i can tell i’m in a dream. i’ve been trying to practice remembering to shift via lucid dreaming or in the wbtb state! and by practicing, whenever i remember/realize i’m dreaming/half awake i just begin an unprompted shifting attempt or affirmations.

TODAYS EXPERIENCE

after church i went home and went straight to bed!!! for several hours. three times in between i woke up-ish, in the sense that my eyes were still closed but i became aware that i was fading to awakeness from my dreams but decided to stay and fall back asleep. each time i thought about shifting. in one of my last dreams, i had a ‘dream wake-up’ where you wake up inside your dream but you’re still dreaming. for some reason, i was attempting one of my out of body experiences. if you’re not familiar with me or my tiktok, i have a LOT of OBE experiences. you can call them OBE’s or astral projections, but i have them semi-frequently. i’ve been in a bit of an OBE slump, but i do have them.

anyways! i was using my desk chair on my bed to sit up on my bed comfortably?? but after adjusting them, i began meditating with my eyes closed IN MY DREAM. and then i tried to lift my arms with my spirit instead of my flesh. didn’t work, obviously, as it was still in my dream. however, i did recently move to the state of half awake and half asleep after that, so shifting was on my mind as i transitioned to a half aware state.

there was a method i watched recently where the basis was to just picture/manifest one item in your hand and affirm that it’ll shift you to your reality. i changed my targetted reality to a sort of waiting room like place. in this reality, i can watch as many tv shows as i want. the item i chose to manifest and affirm with was the tv remote in that reality which happened to be the same one in this one. without moving or opening my eyes, i just visualized and really made myself feel the remote in my hand.

this went on for a few minutes but i didn’t give up or move because i was really determined. and after a while, i felt my thoughts once again slightly drifting, but i made them steer back to the remote. and somehow, i started to actually feel it! i could feel the smooth plastic, the buttons, i could picture the ‘amazon prime’ and ‘netflix’ buttons printed on it, how it would feel to click the silicone pieces. i even very slowly twitched my fingers into the remote shape and could feel it.

i tried using that connection to expand my senses to the rest of my waiting room reality, but then my family decided i had slept for too long without nourishing my body so they woke me up. </3 i mean i appreciate it because taking care of your body in any reality is imperative but ahhh i wish i could’ve continued. it’s fine though, because everything i do gets me closer to a controlled shift and a firm grasp on my own journey. i’m so excited to try that again!!

METHOD USED

this is the method i used. i only took what i wanted to use from it though (the one holdable object)

WHAT I LEARNED

my take-aways include

-> i want to continue using this method! i think being able to build upon one object can bring me closer to being more self confident, and with the remote existing in my current life already, it’s easy for me to visualize and feel the object in my hand!

-> i should stop giving up after a few minutes when i do my wbtb methods.

-> keep practicing remembering to shift!

TLDR; i used a wbtb and manifest an object from your dr method. i could feel the object physically and i plan to continue using this method as i found great success from it.

[one-winged-dreams]

Bestie I wanna preface this by saying I fully understand the abuse response of freezing and just being a doormat and the fear of standing up for yourself and I don't expect you to like. Actually Do This but I just thought perhaps it might help to have something reinforced from the outside: you are no longer a teenager trapped in your mothers house and forced to be under her thumb. You are a fully grown adult and she is, at this point, trespassing in your apartment that you pay for after showing up uninvited. Obviously I want you to be safe, but I do think you owe it to yourself to tell her that she needs to leave. It is fucking INSANE she and your father are putting you through this because they cant handle their own BS. Maybe talk it out with Owen so he can back you up, bc we know he will. You are not that scared little kid anymore, no matter how much she may make you feel that way. You shouldn't have to go through this.

Man, I so totally knew something like this was coming because tbh, even i'm getting tired of my bitching.

I absolutely agree with everything you've said, I just do not know how to force myself to go through with it, on god. I have been trying to build a spine for YEARS. I'm still utterly stumped.

Also let me offer an apology for letting this spiral turn me into a neurotic lunatic lately, that's not what I'm on this hellsite for.

Taking this to heart (and intense visceral consideration), let me take a moment to articulate why this is so fucking hard for me for the sake of like, putting things into perspective and also the trauma response of overexplaining things so I don't feel like a fucking idiot and just in case anyone wants to play psychotherapist for a few seconds and shoot me some advice. (tw for child abuse and general trauma dump below)

I used to argue with this woman almost on the daily, but eventually your own mother beating the living fuck out of you tends to break you down and now adult Adri is forced to live with this weird child-like need to be A Good Kid™ to A) avoid getting the living fuck beaten out of me (unrealistic), and B) i don't fucking know, get validation and love??? Who fucking knows. She was sobbing to me how I'm all she's got left because my sister refuses to have anything to do with it (she's the meanest bitch i've ever met, but at least she's got her priorities straight) and little beaten down Adri is like "Oh, that means I have to step up and do good, my poor mother who used to beat the living fuck out of me, i'd be *reads verbatim the shit she used to throw at me tattooed on my fucking hand* 'an evil ungrateful little bitch' if I refuse her."

Also taking into account what a paranoid nutjob she's become, I for SURE know that I will suffer Consequences™ should I show an ounce of defiance, I just don't know WHAT.

ANYWAY. That's what's all on my plate right now.

She offhandedly mentioned "If I can't find a new place then I'm going to have to go back home I guess" and at the risk of sounding like an awful person making someone go back into an abusive situation, I just kinda was like "Will you be okay there?" but forced myself to clam up and not object, so that's a potentially open door out.

I was literally sick with stress earlier today, so something's got to give at this point, and I know it's gotta be me. Because nothing's gonna get done if I don't do something. And I appreciate the tough love here, I really do, it was a good kick in the ass to make me pull myself together. I'm just sitting here with my head in my hands trying to figure it out. I will probably wait for Owen to get home to talk about this, and then -gestures vaugely- we'll see what we'll do. Hopefully whatever it is, it'll be asap.

[icewindandboringhorror]

a quite simple outfit, trying to use the little blue and white apron thing (which is actually a dress I think, that I just leave un-buttoned in the back and added an apron-like tie to lol)

[k-hotchoisan]

active recovery

<yunho x fem!reader>

sore thighs suck after leg day. thank god Yunho is there to offer his help to ease the soreness 🤍

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, contributing to the big cock!yunho agenda, leg day aftermath (soreness), it starts from an attempted massage and… yeah, size kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, mating press position, breeding, fingering

a/n: haven’t written Yunho in a hot minute + my attempt of distracting myself from my leg soreness from leg day 😒

wc: 1.8K / apply for taglist here 🤍

You wake up and you feel like lightning struck your legs, especially your inner thighs. You groan, feeling the soreness shoot up your muscles every time you move.

And to think you didn’t do enough squats the previous day. Your legs tremble slightly too even though you try to minimise any movement to the best of your ability.

Your hand combs through your messy bed in search of your phone. You find it and immediately scroll to your chats, tapping on the first one with Yunho’s name on it. 

[you]: I’m tapping out on gym today. My legs are fuckin toast. 

[yuyu🐶]: sounds like a skill issue. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m joking please don’t block me. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m coming over with food and some help ok?

You manage to muster the strength to leave your bed to wash up at least, forcing yourself to get used to the electricity running through your legs. 

The doorbell rings shortly and despite the jerks your legs were giving you on the way there, you manage to reach to the door to invite Yunho in, who has his hands busy with food like he promised. 

He sets up the table and he ensures you’ve eaten well before the both of you go to your bedroom to hear what he’s suggesting. 

“Which part of your leg is sore?” He asks, kneeling before you, giving your legs soft squeezes. You flinch and squeal when his fingers press against your thighs. Guess he’s got his answer. 

“Lie down for me. I’ll stretch you out”, Yunho instructs, and you do. 

Yunho starts with a slow massage, kneading against your sore muscles, ignoring your soft whimpers when his fingers press against a sore spot. It’s kind of working, but you still feel the sensitivity bursting through your nerves, and it makes you involuntarily twitch against Yunho’s touches. 

You groan when Yunho applies pressure on your thighs. He pushes your legs towards you, and he leans in. You try to ignore the suggestive position of Yunho’s crotch just pressing against yours while he’s stretching out your thigh, focusing on hoping to relieve any ounce of soreness at least.

Unfortunately, your soft groans aren’t helping with the situation. Try as Yunho might, ignoring you only seems to have your moans go straight to his dick. 

“Y/n, as much as I adore your voice, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum. It’s distracting.”

“I can’t help it if I’m this sensitive”, you pout, not realising you ticked something in him. “And also your reactions are cute with your ears all red like that.” 

Yunho narrows his eyes, ignoring your words , and instead focusing on trying to finish your massage. When he’s done with one side, he switches to the other, doing the same action of folding your legs against your chest, his thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy once more. Your thoughts are starting to float to a less pure space.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You and Yunho are just simply gym buddies—well, gym buddies who have some sort of funny tension going on recently. And now that he’s just this physically close to you—touching, pressing, stretching you, you can’t seem to get your mind out of the gutter.

It wasn’t until Yunho’s palm spread over your thighs once more, massaging against your thick flesh that you let out another sudden moan at the pressure, that Yunho seems to hit his limit. It’s enough that he’s holding back considering that his hands are getting dangerously close up further your thighs, the way he had himself pressed against you at a rather interesting position, but you, moaning at every touch he’s applying onto you? He can only hold back so much.

“Sorry Yun. It’s just… it feels so good when you do it like that.”

Then, Yunho has you under him, he towers over you on your bed. 

“They say active recovery is good for soreness. Lucky for you, I know a pretty good form of active recovery. Your thighs are gonna be doing a lot more stretching though.”

You swallow hard, wondering if you should take on what he’s trying to allude. Seems like you pressed a little too much of his buttons. Oops. Not that you wanted to complain though.

In the most twisted ways, you always wondered how Yunho would compare—his build wasn’t large, but he’s still big. His hands are big—and he makes carrying dumbbells look like toys. You always wondered where else would be big.

And now, you’re about to find out.

“Now, keep your legs open like this for me”, he instructs. Your bottoms are peeled off you in seconds, and you have your legs spread open. Yunho’s fingers pry your lips open to get his pretty fingers wet enough, then he trails down your wet cunt, circling your clit slowly.  

“You gotta relax for me, baby”, he coaxes you in a tone that’s sending you butterflies in your stomach. “If you can’t take my fingers, my cock is gonna snap in you, y’know?”

That’s all the warning he gives before his slender fingers plunge into your wet heat, and your brain completely melts at the feeling. 

“Good girl”, he comforts. His other hand is gently rubbing and massaging against your thigh once more, ramping up the sensitivity before he trails down to accompany his other hand, fully rubbing circles on your clit. 

Your back is arched from how much Yunho is pressing against your g-spot on top of stimulating your clit. It’s making your toes curl and your mind go blank. 

“Gonna cum Yun,” you mutter through heavy breaths. Yunho is kissing up your neck to your jaw before his lips are on yours, the movements of his fingers encouraging you to release all over them.

“Cum for me, baby. It’ll feel so good, I promise”,  Yunho whispers into your ear, snapping the knot in your stomach. 

He eats up your moans with his kisses, taking advantage of your mouth when your orgasm rakes through your whole body leaves your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

Yunho’s cock is soaked and hard underneath his shorts—it’s throbbing and pushing against the fabric of his apparel. So when you’re getting off your high, he has his pants off quickly too. His cock is thick and heavy, covered in precum, looking like the perfect thing to fill you up with.

His wet cock rests on your equally wet cunt, and Yunho strokes himself against your drenched folds, making sure his tip brushes against your clit every time. 

“Yunho, please”, you mutter, your pussy fluttering against nothing, aching for Yunho to just fuck you. 

“Not too sore to take my dick right?” Yunho teases, his gaze darting between your desperate eyes and the way cream from your pussy is decorating his big cock. 

“I’m gonna be stretching you in more ways than one, babe. Be a good girl and take it for me, yeah?”, he smiles. 

For some strange reason, you don’t feel the soreness in your inner thighs, or maybe you’re just so horny that it’s not the soreness that’s your main concern now. 

You bite your lip, then your mind completely coming undone when you feel Yunho push his cockhead into your pussy, stretching your hole open as he accommodates his thick cock in you. 

“Fuck. Look at your tight pussy trying to fit all of me in. I should fill you in for size training after our next sessions. Extra stretching sessions shouldn’t be much of a problem, right baby?” 

Maybe you should take up on that offer. 

The thought of Yunho fitting his fat cock to stretch you open just so your tight pussy can mold to his cock size after your gym sessions sounded way too fucking tempting, especially in your current predicament. You’re imagining the way he would coax your pussy to take more inches of him, and the thought of doing it right after your training sessions—being pumped full of endorphins and just Yunho’s fat cock—your pussy is just dripping and taking more of his cock by the second. Way too fucking enticing.

“Mm. That’s it, baby. Fit me in like this, yeah?” Yunho sighs when his cock finally bottoms out in you, your walls hugging him like a glove. 

You gasp at the fullness. His cockhead is pressing against your g-spot but you feel it in your fucking throat, and any small twitches his cock is making in you is a contender to make you cum any second. 

Your fingers grab onto his tensed biceps to give yourself some leverage, and Yunho is kind enough to wait for you to adjust, or maybe because he feels like he’s about to cum any second from the way your pussy is just squeezing him. 

“Jeong Yunho”, you pant, trying to catch your breath. “You’re so fucking big. Fuck. Oh my fucking god, I feel so full.”

He chuckles, rubbing slow circles from your inner thighs and clit. “All the more we should train for that.”

Yunho and his fat cock are gonna be the death of you. You didn’t even need leg day to do it for you. 

“God, Yunho, just fuck me already.”

“Gladly.” 

Your head is thrown back the moment his cock pulls out of you and thrusts back into you. You’re not gonna survive this, you swear. 

The moans slipping out of you grow louder and more lewd, and Yunho is gradually losing the ability to hold back when he hears his name in your high-pitched symphony paired with the way your pussy is just creaming all over him. He watches the way his cock pushes a bulge whenever he slides into you and it’s taking him everything to not to just rearrange your guts.

The pressure soon wears off, only pleasure flooding through your veins when Yunho fucks the daylights out of you. And now you’re growing greedy. 

So is Yunho. 

“You’re driving me crazy, baby”, Yunho is growing breathless whenever he feels your cunt sucking him in. “Keep doing that and I’ll guarantee you’re not walking straight tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan, Yuyu. Then you can come over to take responsibility, right?”

Yunho groans. God he fucking loves it when you’re like this for him. 

So he responds by grabbing you by your thighs and lifting your hips slightly to make sure his cock fills you up all the way. His eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure, mouth slightly open as he listens to your voice climbing up in pitch at every thrust he gives you. 

“So good. Ah fuck. You’re so fucking thick”, you cry through your fucked out delirium. 

Yunho bites his lip, his thrusts growing more desperate and erratic with his cock just twitching for his release. 

He settles your legs down, only to fold them so that your knees are almost pressing against your chest, making sure you fucking see stars while his cock fills you up over and over in that position, hitting your g-spot so fucking easily. You’re choking on your moans at this point, your orgasm just being dangled over your head. 

“Fuck, right there! Gonna cum, Yunho. Oh god, that’s it”, you sob, your orgasm hitting you through shots of dopamine filling up your brain and flooding all over your cunt, pulsing against Yunho’s dick. 

Yunho has his eyes rolled back when you’re squeezing uncontrollably against him, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm, listening to your cries like it’s his favourite sound for the rest of the day. 

“Shit, I don’t think I could ever get enough of this pussy”, he mutters through pants. “So fucking perfect to cum in.”

Yunho squeezes your legs as he stills in you, making sure every drop of his thick cum is filling your pussy to the brim. 

He jerks slightly before pulling out, still holding your legs open for him to watch his cum seep out of your pussy and onto the towel below. You squeal when you feel his long fingers push his cum back into your pussy. Yunho is never telling you, but it’s his silent way of putting his mark on you. 

He soothes your thighs a little more even though he’s still finger fucking his cum back into you while kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs. ignoring your cries of overstimulation, before he closes your legs to lie them down. 

“See, this is a form of active recovery too”, Yunho says matter-of-factly, looking up at you with a pretty deceptive smile with his head on your lap. You narrow your eyes, grabbing him by his scalp. 

“I’m gonna blow your phone up tomorrow if I can’t feel my legs, Jeong Yunho.” 

Yunho continues to smile, his fingers easily removing yours from his head. 

“I guess that’s a yes to the extra training sessions then?” 

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @mylovelymito @softwsan  @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie

[rinnstars]

jealousy jealousy!

when hes just a little (very) jealous of someone else

bllk boys (nagi, rin, reo) x reader: insecurities, fluff!!!!!!!, established r/s except for rin (but you two get into one by the end!), nagis part was deleted and rewritten TT, not proof read + likes n reblog r appreciated <3

nagi seishiro:

“eh… you cleared this level already…? i thought you were struggling with it..?” nagi’s voice muffled against the pile of blankets his face was smushed in, looking up at you confusedly from your phone, displaying the game level cleared.

its not that he doesnt believe you cleared it all by yourself, if anything youre pretty good at this game despite only playing it for him. its simply because you were complaining on call with him about it, and all of the sudden youve finished it? he doesnt quite believe it, hes gone through that level too and he knows its pretty challenging, taking a little more energy than it really should have even for nagi himself.

“ah.. my seatmate cleared it for me this morning when he saw me playing it!” its strange: your bright voice always wakes him up a little, bringing light into his otherwise dull and boring life. yet this time, he feels his heart pang a little.

its troublesome. he doesnt like feeling this way: his heart tightens at your words, he unconsciously grips your phone a little, only realising when the screen protector cuts him a little, and he feels as though hes getting all fired up strangely the same way he gets on the field. if anything, nagi doesnt even know who this mysterious seat partner is, and he sure doesnt want to know: its troublesome to socialise with others after all. and yet, if there’s anything he’s now set on doing as though his life depends on it, as though your relationship with him depends on it, as though his ego depends completely on this: he wants to confront this guy and challenge him in an actual game competition. he knows he’ll win, he has spent his entire life in bed playing mobile game or spending late hours of the night on grinding back to immortal on different variety of games from valorant to league of legends to overwatch. he’s covered his grounds he thinks, that maybe all those time wasn’t wasted at all other than the fact that you weren’t with him during those time: lending him your lap to lie down on when he plays his switch or phone, lending him your support when you sit on his lap on his chair squirming to keep it a challenge to win and carry his team still, even more lending him your accounts when he plays with you, helping carry you in any game you want or even just building your islands together on animal crossing or minecraft on more chill days.

nagi doesn’t get it - really, its the same ego that drives him in football, not wanting to lose. his eyes flicker with sudden fire and intensity that only burns whenever he plays games with you: whether that be when you die in a pvp game and him immediately straightening his back to avenge you, earning aces for rounds straight until the screen flashes with victory, or when someone talks bad about you in the voice channel and is immediately reacted with nagi’s voice that defends your honour as if he’s your knight in shining armour, or even simply the way his hands click on the mouse quickly whenever he sees a zombie go near you in the dark cave whilst playing something as chill as minecraft. if anything, nagi think it might just apply to real life too: his hands tugging at yours as though on instinct in record speed when you trip on another branch to prevent you from falling, his glare at others whenever they bother you too much that is visible through the awkward smile you give and your hands finding its way to fiddle with his shirt.

and the same ego is clear to him now: he doesn’t want anyone else to be yours, he wants to be the only one to help you. selfish maybe, but he’ll deliver - the way he tracks your figure in the map from valorant to minecraft to even genshin, the way he fights to protect you from the enemies, his hands animatedly clicking at his mouse and the other navigating his keyboard all at the same time in order to garner the best and most successful result that he knows will get you to smile oh so brightly that makes his heart pound, or even the way he charges his old switch just to help you play animal crossing on his own account, maintaining your village and neglecting his all to make a cute little house for you inspired by your pinterest board even though it takes him all night.

and to you, its clear: he’s upset at what you’ve done with the way he deflates even more than he already is. and it clicks. a routine and cycle you’ve unintentionally broken - you complaining about a level or rank you can’t get out of, he’ll listen and ask you about it the next day when youre back at his house, and he’ll fix it just as he always down: an unspoken agreement really.

“sorry sei… i still can’t clear the next level.. help me seiiii…” and suddenly he’s back lying right on your pillowy thighs: the way his eyes that was just seconds ago filled with intensity that you think simply doesn’t fit his face closes with comfort as you massage his scalp again with his fingers, the way his face smushes against your thighs comfortably rather than the weird feeling of him hovering on your thigh as though he wanted to get up, the way his hands no longer grip your phone tightly and instead holds your hand, fitting it right in perfectly.

“kay… its not bothersome with you..” he says, a confession of love from himself. he’ll never find it annoying if its you: he thinks he would play the dinosaur game from having no internet for hours on end if you liked watching him play it, he thinks he’d fight against the same boss for even days straight if you said you needed the materials for it for your character, and he knows he will most definitely help you finish any level you can’t. and something he wont say, a quiet confession springs in his mind: he loves you and most definitely he loves to play for you. and based on you willingly passing him your phone, maybe, just maybe, he wont give in to his impulses and actually find that guy - only shooting daggers at him that sends a shiver down his spine when he waits outside your class for you to release after school.

rin itoshi:

its not the first time rin felt this pang in his chest: he felt it when his older brother kicks the ball to any other member of the football team to shoot for the goal, he felt it when his teammates seems to be able to shoot he ball even more accurately than he does, he felt it when his brother praised yoichi instead of him. he’s always regarded that feeling as something football related: he’s never felt too much emotions outside of his passion and hobbies either way - but lately, he thinks he feels it a lot whenever he’s with you. perhaps, the seed from before blue lock has started blooming: the day you boarded the bus with him to the facility that was hours away from yours and his house that made his cheeks stain with pink as he sits right beside you, eating the filling breakfast you made for him, beaming at him so brightly as you wave him goodbye that makes him hesitate for the first time in his life.

and right now, he doesn’t get it. its not like there’s a lack of chocolates at his desk, if anything its quite the opposite. there’s practically a mountain of chocolates of different variety that would surely fulfill his secret sweet tooth - from dark chocolate in a heart shape mold bought from a fancy shop, from milk chocolates in squares sprinkled with heart shaped sweet bits on top, or even strawberries dipped in white chocolate. and yet, if looks could kill, that guy who’s holding YOUR chocolate box would have died, guts spilled right on the classroom door like those cliche horror games he plays. rin doesn’t get it: its not as if youre close witht that guy,youre his seat partner for all the years you’ve spent together since kindergarten, and he’s sure that that guys no one special right? and its out of character when rin thinks harder about a nobody in his class: do you like band kids like that lame guy? (he did learn the guitar for fun when he was younger, should bring it out from under his bed again?) do you like guys who are a little better at math? (maybe he should study for this weeks math quiz he thinks) or do you like guys who have leadership roles? (he’ll ask to be captain of the football team, its obvious anyways, he’s the best in this dull football club in his school)

usually, when he feels this same pang in his chest, he ignores it, keep mum about it and just work harder instead until the glass shards leave his heart - and yet he can’t do that strangely despite the routine between you two staying: where you and him sit together at the back of the class, playing your phone at the back oops the class unbeknownst to the teacher, giggling and whispering about whatever, your feet kicking his occasionally from the lack of distance that makes his face a little pink. yet, here he is eyeing that last chocolate underneath your table, its unlike the others he noted - unlike the mini chocolate cup you passed to that guy who he wishes to punch simply because of the smug smirk that was plastered on his face, unlike the small chocolate bars you presented to the other girls in the class, and even more special definitely from the chocolate candies you sneak into both his and yours mouth during class. its heart-shaped, reminiscent of the other chocolate now angrily thrown into one plastic bag that he plans to eat whilst crying about this the second he reaches home, a ribbon tied messily clearly with much effort too, and even pasted mini heart papers.

and its not until recess when youre alone with rin in class as per routine, everyone leaving for lunch does he do something about it for the first time in his life about this nagging and tugging feeling that makes him feel like a little kid again. and it just might have been the universe way of telling the two of you how connected you two are: as you struggle to find the courage to give him the slightly burnt chocolate brownies inside the heart shaped box.

“i.. like you.” “f-for you rin..!”

its simultaneous, at the exact same time, where the clock struck 1:00pm.

the confession he’s kept all these years, since the first day he’s met you at kindergarten where you two practically were fixed at the hips ever since: seat partners since primary school all the way up until now where youre both now seventeen and about to go to university and him to become a professional football player soon. ten years - ten years of looking at you as if he’s so far away when youre with anyone but him as he feels the friendship bracelet around his wrist for reassurance, ten years of writing confession letters after confession letters and poetries only to rip them all apart, yelling into his pillow and kicking his feet like a maiden in love, ten years of looking at you pass chocolates every single time during valentines except to him. its unlike rin, he’s never been good at expressing himself, believing in action over words - the way he carries your files and extra bags after school, the way he always listens and remembers what you say and even buy things you’ve mentioned offhandedly with his own pocket money, the way he never hesitates to carry you back home even when his leg is all jelly from football practice that he doesn’t tell you.

and its the same for you. the valentine gift you’ve made for him all these years: spanning from chocolate chip cookies you’ve made, to macrons you bought for him from his favourite bakery, or even his favourite blueberry pie your mother bought you - and yet all left underneath the table, secretly placed back in your bag for you to eat it whilst crying about your cowardice. and you hate it: these ten years of watching him carry a plastic bag full of physical confessions without any interest, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even when youre staying over and opening a pack of these chocolates when you’re hungry, these ten years of looking bitterly at the friendship bracelet that is nothing more than a bitter reminder of how you’ll never be more because of your own cowardice, these ten years of looking at rin accept everyone’s chocolates but yours.

and for the first time in years, rin thinks it’s just right - when he places his lips on yours, melting into this sweet kiss with the brownie in his mouth. and he thinks you might just taste sweeter than the brownie melting between the two of yours mouth.

reo mikage:

he doesn’t get this tight feeling wrapping like thorns around his heart - seeing you so close with a classmate, smiling as he seems to be teaching you something through the windows of your classroom. it’s clearly not the exhaustion from climbing all the way from his class at the first level to yours at the fourth with this being the millionth time hes done this like a instinct every time the bell rings, its not the way your hands seems to linger so close to his practically touching someone’s else hands that gets reo sweating cold beads of sweat down his neck, and its not jealousy at how someone else might just be better than him. realistically he knows, you’re probably just having difficulties in your academics, a normal human thing but he can’t help the bitter bile that rises to his mouth - he can teach you too evident from the library dates where he helps you go through your homework and teach you the same concepts like hes made for it and hes definitely better than that classmate right? hes smarter, he tops the class every single exam without fail with his name always plastered on the results sheet as number one, he’s much more charming he would like to believe with your smile always reaching your eyes that he adores, and he’s much more useful with the way he can teach you whilst helping you with other things like while buying you food on his phone, fixing your broken pens, or something. he swallows the bitter bile, walking into the practically empty class with just you and that.. classmate, scruntising his every detail in his mind all whilst putting on the charming facade hes too used to having on - one that you can tell by the furrowing of your eyebrows at him as he grabs a chair and slides it beside you as though looking at your homework.

“haven’t i taught you this before?” its petty, he knows, its quite literally a new chapter, one that he knows your class just started on. but he thinks it does the job when he sees your classmate suddenly feel uncomfortable - perhaps its the tone of his voice that underlies irritation clearly meant for him, perhaps its the subtle passive aggressive smile aimed at him, or perhaps its the intimidation of having reo mikage right next to you clearly upset with you. he doesn’t really enjoy the title placed on him, if anything sometimes he loathes the reputation that comes with his family name, with people looking at him as only that and never as reo - but just this time does he thank the stars for his luck.

“huh?” he can tell, youre confused, and he thinks youre just so oblivious or maybe hes just weirdly jealous of something so insignificant that even your brain can’t comprehend him at all. but he doesn’t mind it as he glanced sideways at your classmate - awkwardly and quickly packing his bag, leaving just you and reo sitting at your desk.

and its awkward silence, with him looking at your homework that he just received just an hour ago and hasn’t started on too, and you looking confused at him. its not unfamiliar to see reo in your class, its practically routine at this point, except he usually just stands outside until youre done with packing your bag, taking it right from your hands the second you step out of your class.

“so.. who was that?” he cant help the way his voice suddenly sounds so soft, as though its about to crack, as if hes about to cry. he tries to clear his throat to even it out, and even so, he definitely sounded a little too out of character - out of character for how he presents himself: nothing short of perfect. and he knows youve caught it, the cats out of the bag, when he sees the sides of your mouth tug up a little as you zip your bag.

“just a classmate reo really…” your voice a little teasing, looking at him knowingly, as his hands tug at your bag, slinging it around his right shoulder where it should belong. and he thinks its alright: the way you ruffle his hair that feels just so right that he leans in even closer and even bends down a little like a dog desperate for a pat, the way you beam at him that he knows is meant only for him that shifts the rest of your class to be nothing more than just a blur, the way your bag fits snugly on his shoulder as it was meant to be.

“yeah? it better be!~” he chirps, jealousy no longer gripping onto him like a chain tugging at his neck, reminiscent of the feeling he feels in his stuffy and restrictive home. and he knows it’ll be that way until the end of time: the way your hands tugs at his tightly as though you never want to let go either, the way you look at him as though he’s your entire world, the way you understand him even through a few words. soulmates, maybe, and perhaps he has no reasons to ever feel this bitter feeling that burns his throat.

[acciotaitlynn]

 “Why don’t we head upstairs,” Zayne murmurs, his voice deep and husky. “I could use a thorough examination of my beautiful wife.”

⟢ zayne×fem!reader

⟢ sexual content, 18+, doctor/patient theme, reader and zayne are married, .ᐟ.ᐟlatex allergy warning, edging, my love/little one/good girl used. prepare for more mindless smut while I work through my current block✨

⟢ 2.3k wc

You send Zayne a flirty pic while he’s on his lunch break, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as your thumb taps ‘send.’ It’s not overly revealing, just a teasing glimpse of cleavage with a hint of your nipple delicately peeking through the lace of a new lingerie set. The image drives Zayne wild all day, though, and as soon as he walks through the front door, he scoops you into his arms, planting a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. “Why don’t we head upstairs,” he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. “I could use a thorough examination of my beautiful wife.”

As he carries you, you lightly kiss his jawline, your fingers gently tangling in his hair as a you give him a soft smile. By the time you both reach the bedroom, your clothes have been shed, and you’re practically quivering with need, yearning for more of his touch. Gently placing you on the bed, Zayne’s eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you. Stepping back, he retrieves a pair of medical gloves from his bag, methodically snapping them into place, the sound resonating in the tranquil room. 

“Lie back, my love,” he commands. A shiver runs through you as you comply without hesitation, resting back on the bed and spreading your legs invitingly. Approaching the bed, his appreciative gaze sweeps over your body as he pours a generous amount of massage oil into his palm, filling the air with the soothing scent of lavender. He warms the oil between his hands before applying it to your skin, starting with your feet and working his way up to your thighs.

His gloved hands glide over your silky skin, the latex creating a unique sensation that has you squirming with pleasure. “Tell me,” Zayne murmurs, his fingers dancing along your inner thighs. “Have you been experiencing any unusual symptoms recently? Any discomfort or pain that needs my attention?”

“Yes, Doctor Zayne,” you breathe, your hips arching slightly as his skilled hands work their magic on your thighs. “I’ve been feeling… empty. Like there’s a void inside me that only you can fill.” Blushing at your boldness, you continue in a whisper, “And I’ve been incredibly sensitive; every touch feels intensified, like my body is on fire…”

His oiled hands move over your stomach, tracing circles around your navel before moving up to your breasts. “I understand,” he murmurs, his voice low and comforting. “It seems you may be suffering from a severe case of sexual frustration… Luckily, I believe I have just the treatment for you.” With a soft moan escaping your lips, you arch your back, urging his hands closer to your heaving chest. Your nipples perk under his touch, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. “Yes,” you whine, your eyes shutting in bliss. “That feels incredible…” You reach up, tangling your fingers in his hair as he persists with his exploration.

Zayne sucks gently on one nipple, teasing it with his tongue before releasing it with a tender pop. Transitioning to your other breast, he mirrors the process, bestowing it equal attention. “Your breasts seem healthy and responsive,” he remarks, desire lacing his husky tone. “However, I’ll need to conduct a more in-depth examination to be certain.” His gloves fingers trail down your stomach, pausing momentarily at your navel again before descending further. Cupping you delicately, he applies a gentle pressure while massaging your outer lips. “Now, let’s assess the vaginal area’s responsiveness. Widen your legs for me, love.” Obliging instantly, you’re already slick with arousal, coating his gloved fingers as he explores you.

“Doctor,” you whimper, your hips moving involuntarily as Zayne caresses your sensitive skin. “I’m so wet… It’s like a fever inside me.” Biting your lip to contain a moan, you grip the sheets tightly, feeling the intensity of the sensations overwhelming you. As he teases your entrance with his fingertip, your hands clench the fabric, knuckles whitening as pleasure surges through you. Inserting a single finger, he curls it upwards to caress your g-spot. Your inner walls tighten around him, drawing him in deeper as he begins a rhythmic pumping, gradually increasing the tempo. 

“Indeed, you are exceptionally lubricated,” Zayne observes, his thumb circling your clit in synchronization with his penetrating motions. “This indicates heightened arousal and readiness for penetration.” Introducing a second finger, he stretches you deliciously, maintaining his attentiveness as the sounds of your slickness fill the room. “How does this feel?” he inquires, his voice strained with barely contained desire. Your body arches off the bed as his fingers delve deep within you, stimulating that magical spot, causing you to cry out in ecstasy, your hips gently rocking against his hand. “It’s so good, Doctor Zayne. You have magic hands,” you moan, head falling back helplessly against the pillow.

“Let’s test your reflexes, shall we?” Zayne murmurs against your lips, increasing the pressure of his thumb, flicking it back and forth across your clit while closely monitoring your reactions. Sharp gasps escape you as you buck against his hand, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly, your nails leaving faint crescent imprints on his skin. 

Zayne persists with the stimulation, alternating between rapid, firm circles and languid, teasing strokes on your clit. “Well done,” he praises. “Now, let’s examine your flexibility. Spread your legs wider for me. Show me how flexible you can be.” His free hand slips under your knee, guiding your legs up and out. Teasing your entrance, his featherlight touches meet your gaze. “Can you maintain this position while I pleasure you?” You nod eagerly, attempting to stifle a moan, chest rising and falling with each labored breath. “Yes, I can… I promise.”

Zayne rewards your compliance with a deep, hungry kiss. Simultaneously, he plunges two fingers into your drenched core, curling them upward to target your g-spot. “Excellent,” he murmurs against your lips.” Let’s see how long you can maintain this position while I edge you toward orgasm. Remember, no release until I give you permission, love.” Matching the rhythm of his fingers pumping inside you with the dance of his tongue, he maintains relentless pressure on your clit, edging you closer and closer.

“How are you feeling?” Zayne asks softly. Helpless whimpers escape into his mouth as your body quivers, battling to restrain the imminent orgasm, yearning to be good for him. “Doctor Zayne,” you gasp, breaking the kiss to meet his gaze with pleading eyes. “I don’t know if I can hold on much longer… It feels incredible, but I’m so close. Please, can I come?” Drinking in your flushed face, parted lips, and desperate gaze, Zayne nearly falters at the sight of you teetering on the edge, craving release. “Not yet, little one,” he murmurs, authoritative yet gentle. “I want to see how long you can hold out. Prove to me that you can follow my instructions.” 

Capturing your whimper in a passionate kiss, his free hand travels your curves, teasing your most sensitive spots. Grinding his erection against your ass, he lets you know just how much he wants you, teeth grazing your neck as the pace of his fingers intensifies. You cry out, your body trembling with pleasure, the sensations overwhelming as you near the edge. Pushing back against his hand, your plea is desperate as tears stream from your eyes. “Please, Zayne! I’m almost there…”

Zayne eases his movements, bringing you back from the brink, leaving you regretting your plea. While his fingers continue pumping in and out of you, it’s controlled now. Every part of you quivers with need, every nerve firing, muscles tense with anticipation. Grinding harder against your cheeks, his heated murmurs are hot and needy against your ear. “God, you feel so tight… so wet and warm,” he groans, thick with desire. “You’ll feel incredible like this.” Pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger, he rolls it firmly, increasing the thrusts as his fingers move inside you. 

Seizing your lips with his own, Zayne silences your moans of pleasure with his own desperate sounds. Roaming over your body, his touch varies from squeezing your breasts to pinching your nipples and gripping your hips as he drives into you relentlessly. “Go ahead, let go for me,” he demands softly against your lips. “Let me feel you come apart around my fingers.” His words and actions propel you over the edge, and you cry out his name as the waves of orgasm crash over you. You cling to him, fingers tangled in his hair, face buried in his neck, muffling your cries of bliss as you ride the euphoria. Chuckling affectionately, Zayne pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead as your body trembles in his arms.

“Well, based on my thorough examination, I’d say you’re in excellent health. Perfect even,” he murmurs against your hair, hand running down your side, cupping your ass and giving it a gentle squeeze. Giggling, you hug him, pulling him down for another kiss, feeling his erection stir against your thigh. “But I think something might be broken, Doctor Zayne…” you suggest playfully, reaching down to stroke the outline of his length beneath his clothing. “I only seem to be able to come best when you’re inside me… It’s troublesome, really.”

Raising an eyebrow, a smirk plays at the corner of Zayne’s mouth. “Broken, you say? That’s quite the accusation, love. Perhaps I should investigate further…” Withdrawing his fingers, he situates himself between your legs, his cock straining against his pants. Unzipping his fly, he frees himself, movements clumsy, driven by the urgency to finally feel you. Stroking his cock, he lines up at your entrance, the glistening head of his length nudging against your slick folds. “To properly assess the situation, I’ll need to penetrate deeply,” Zayne informs you. “Are you prepared for that?”

You nod eagerly, eyes fixed on his, widening your legs in invitation. Unconsciously wetting your lips at the sight of his hand working around his cock, you reach down, holding your folds open for him, offering a warm smile. Zayne takes in your dazed expression, flushed cheeks, and wet core as you expose yourself to him. With a strained groan, he buries his face into your neck, driving into you sharply, fully burying himself in one swift motion. You cry out, wrapping your legs around his waist, securing your ankles around his back, drawing him as deeply inside you as possible. Pleasure tightens in your core, your pussy clenching around his thick cock, your voice ragged with pleasure. “Yes, Zayne! Take me. I need you so badly…”

Zayne slams into your tight, wet heat with a groan, pounding into you with powerful strokes that have you gasping and moaning beneath him. His fingers find your clit, pinching and rolling it between them as he takes you mercilessly. Within moments, your body tenses, inner muscles gripping him like a vice as you cry out in euphoria. “That’s it, my love,” he groans, striving to restrain his own impending release. “God, you feel so good. So fucking tight.”

Your entire body convulses as waves of pleasure surge through you, cascading over you as you come harder than you ever have before. Tears streak down your face, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock, trying to coax out every part of him. A growl escapes Zayne as his hips thrust into you with primal intensity, the messy sound of your bodies slapping filling the room alongside your cries of pleasure and Zayne's grunts of exertion. “Mine,” Zayne murmurs, a hint of possessiveness flickering as his teeth graze your collarbone. “Yes, yours! Only yours!” You whimper helplessly, your voice raw as you bury your face in his shoulder, biting down to stifle your cries.

With abandon, Zayne slams into you, his fingers working furiously on your clit, a soft growl in your ear as he presses deeper into you. “Let me feel you again. Come all over my cock like a good little patient. You can do it. I know you can.” Your walls clench and flutter around him, his words propelling you over the edge once more. As you spasm around him, Zayne emits a strangled cry, emptying himself deep inside you. You feel every inch of him throbbing and pulsing within you, his hot cum filling you up, pushing you higher and higher as stars dance behind your eyelids. Moaning softly, Zayne collapses onto you, his chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. Capturing your mouth in a tender kiss, Zayne gazes down at you, a look of sheer love and adoration in his eyes that leaves you breathless. “Thank you, my love,” he murmurs, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I needed that more than you know.” Sighing contentedly, he runs his fingers through your hair, holding you close. You savor the feel of his strong body against yours, his length softening inside you, a playful smile touching your lips. “I feel so much more relaxed after this appointment, Doctor Zayne. Your service was truly exceptional. I’ll be sure to leave a glowing five-star review,” you jest, kissing him tenderly.

Zayne presses featherlight kisses along your jawline, his gaze darkening with desire, his voice husky with need once more. “I believe there may be… other areas of your body that require my attention. Ones that may have been overlooked before,” he suggests, his fingertips lightly brushing over your ass. “It would be best to address all these matters in one appointment, wouldn’t you agree?” ♡

[tiza0925]

okok hear me out but Akaashi dating reader and she has a spit kink 👉🏻👈🏻 you don't have to write anything about it but i would love to hear about it from you! (i love your works sm 💗)

…i think you’ve just woken something inside me, anon 🫠

Intimate | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, praise kink, jealous!reader, dom!Akaashi, raw sex, multiple orgasms, slight dumbification, squirting, pussy slapping, petnames, little bit of choking, overstimulation, creampie, spit kink ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You’re not a jealous person, you swear.

Your relationship with Akaashi is the most secure relationship you’ve ever been in—not once has he ever given you a reason to doubt him. 

To not trust him. 

He’s shown you nothing but respect, kindness—god, so much love and patience—ever since you two started dating. 

But—

Your jaw ticks as you watch a random girl get a little too close to him—watching how she laughs a little too much and looks at him with stars in her eyes. 

You can’t blame her, though—you look at him the same way—he’s good-looking and deserves to be appreciated for that. 

But that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t get to you whenever you see other people do it. 

Especially this particular girl who seems to refuse to leave his side ever since you two arrived at Kuroo’s house party. 

Because apparently—she’s close with Bokuto. 

Which means she knows Akaashi. 

But you barely hear Akaashi talk about her so it’s either he doesn’t see her as close as she thinks they are—

Or he’s hiding something from you. 

But that would be ridiculous—it’s Akaashi. 

He wouldn’t.

Right? 

You take a sip from your drink, then you turn to the person who’s currently talking to you—you think her name is Yachi—and you give her a slightly apologetic look as you walk away and straight towards him. 

And the girl that’s seemingly too giddy with whatever Akaashi is saying. 

It’s why you come up to his side with a small smile at the other girl, your arms around his waist, and Akaashi stops mid-sentence to look at you with a slightly concerned look—his one eyebrow raised as he asks in a soft murmur, “You okay?” 

You hum, a small smile threatens to pull at your mouth as he wraps one arm around you, holding you closer, and you nod. “Just tired.” 

He gives your waist a small squeeze, his voice a soft rumble against you. “Wanna go home then?” 

You blink up at him, then you quickly glance at the girl that was talking to him—and you feel a slight bud of satisfaction in your chest when you notice how annoyed she looks—and you nod, blinking up at him all sweetly. “Please?”

You end up in the passenger seat of his car a few moments later—looking out the window—as he drives you two home.

It’s quiet—comfortably so—as you watch light posts and buildings until—

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” 

You hear him ask that, his voice calm and quiet, and your eyes widen with surprise as your heart flips. 

You blink, turning to look at him—his eyes remaining on the road ahead—and you frown. “What?” 

“Suddenly wanting to go home and hugging me like that,” Akaashi then turns his head a little to give you a look like he knows something. “What was that about?” 

Oh. 

Was it that obvious how you felt? 

You blink. 

Silent. 

Then you swallow hard, playing dumb as you look away, murmuring, “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

But then you hear him let loose a low, caustic laugh—as if he doesn’t believe you—and you feel his hand, heavy and large on your thigh, with the heat seeping through your pants and skin, as he gives it a small squeeze. “Alright.” 

It’s how you end up with your face stuffed into a pillow, back arched, and ass out the moment you two arrive back home—

“Oh fuck—”

And you’re cumming around a thick cock with your moan getting muffled into the cushion. 

“Look how well you take me,” His voice comes out a low drawl, sounding so nonchalant as if he isn’t fucking you deep into your cunt with a harsh grip around your waist—holding you in place as Akaashi makes you take all of him with your orgasm throbbing through you. 

Your mind goes numb, and you whine when he drags his dick against your G-spot, overstimulating you. 

“Keiji—fuck—please—”

But then he pulls out—leaving you empty and pulsing around nothing—causing a trickle of your juice to leak out, and you let out a sudden cry when Akaashi leaves a harsh slap against your wet pussy with his hand. 

“Turn around.” 

Fuck. 

You listen almost immediately—moving to lay on your back, breathing heavily, and Akaashi smiles down at you from the bridge of his nose, admiring you for just a moment—

Then he’s hooking your legs over his shoulder—and your eyes grow wide when you feel the head of his cock slide over your drooling pussy, bumping your clit that has your head going dizzy, and then—

“Do you think she’d be able to take me as well as you do?”

Then he starts to ask that—in that taunting, calm voice of his—and your cheeks grow hot at the mere mention of that girl, jealousy pricking the edges of your vision and—

You whimper when he pushes his cock back inside you, filling you and making you feel so full as he rolls his hips against yours, building that sweet buzzing ache in your pussy again. 

Akaashi watches the way your cunt swallows him so perfectly—his girth opening you up as you cream all over him—and he wets his lips, his smirk turning lecherous. “You think she’d look this pretty around my cock too, baby?”

He’s not blind.

He can pick up on the small signs of jealousy from you with just a small look, word—even the way you act.

He’s observant—and he clearly didn’t miss the way you were eyeing that girl from earlier.

You suck in a large breath, feeling him in your damn throat as he fucks you languidly, and your voice is breathy when you bite out a response. “Why don’t you go and find out for yourself then.” 

Akaashi leans down and god—you sob out a moan when he nearly bends you in half, shoving his dick so deep into you that your entire body goes limp. 

You’re practically shaking as his lips hover over yours, and his eyes—all half-lidded as he observes you—grow alight with something darker and amused as he hums lowly. “I don’t think I will.” 

He pulls out, the tip of his dick catching your hole, then he immediately thrusts back in with one, harsh slap of his skin against yours—making you gasp as your juices gush out. “Nobody else can get messy like you do, baby.” 

His smirk comes slow and syrupy, his hooded eyes observing you—how your eyes are glossy with tears threatening to spill out—and he goes to pull on your lower lip with his mouth, kissing you so achingly soft despite the harsh fucking. “Nobody else feels this tight around me.” 

You moan against him, your arms numbly wrapping around his neck as you take his cock pushing in and out of you—your pussy swallowing him whole like it needs his dick in there. 

It’s so fucking needy that even when you feel him digging into your lungs with his cock—you still want more of him, that swelling ache in your clit just begging for it.

And god—he gives it to you. 

He fucks you with one hand coming to thumb your sensitive clit—rubbing it in slow circles with your juices coating it until you’re clenching around his cock, squeezing him and throbbing as you cum for a second time. 

“Shit,” Akaashi groans, driving into you as his head gets foggy with lust, and heat overwhelms him as you make a mess on you both—clear liquid squirting out of your poor little pussy with every rock of his hips, and tears finally spill down your cheeks with oversensitivity. 

“Don’t cry, angel,” Akaashi soothes you, his voice throaty and heavy, and his hand that was on your clit comes up to wipe your tears—spreading your fluids all over your face and getting you dirty as he calmly shushes you. “You asked for this.” 

You know. 

You just didn’t anticipate how intense Akaashi will be to make sure you know that you were being irrational for feeling jealous—to fuck you until you felt all loose and dumb from his dick that you can’t do or say anything but whimper and cry for him. 

God—

You suck in small, gasping breaths as he slides his hand down until he’s rolling his thumb over your bottom lip, and—

And then his pupils grow wide and dark, there’s a small tick at the side of his lips that looks carnal, and your heart leaps into your throat as he forces your mouth open as he presses down onto your lip—your heart thundering in your ears as you watch with shiny eyes, unsure what he plans to do until—

Until he also opens his mouth as well, and your mind grows heady with submission with your tongue out for him, your pussy clenching him so fucking tight as he lets a small, pearly glob of his saliva string down onto your tongue. 

And fuck—he lets out a low groan of approval, making your chest swell at how satisfied he looks as you please him. 

“Swallow.” His voice is so deceptively soft.

But you listen and swallow. 

With no hesitation. 

And it should feel gross with him spitting in your mouth like that—making you feel like some whore under him—

But instead—it does things to you. 

It makes things so much more fucking intimate. 

You keep eye contact with him as your throat bobs with an obedient swallow, your body moving with every thrust of him inside you, and Akaashi can’t help but lean down to kiss you so deeply that you shudder against him—

“Such a good girl for me—shit,” His hand comes to the front of your neck, his calloused fingers wrapping around it and giving it a little squeeze, making you moan as you sloppily kiss him back, your vision growing blurry. 

Then he leans back, hand still on your throat, and his chest rise and falls as he continues to fuck your abused pussy, your fluids making a mess, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your calf. 

“I want you to cum on my cock again, love, you do it so well for me.”

Then he brings his other hand to press on your lower stomach, making you keen with a wet moan—and you feel so fucked out and dumb in the head as another orgasm steadily pulses through you. 

“And say my name when you do, love,” Akaashi breathes out lowly, his dick in your guts as he pushes his hand down a little more, “Because nobody else gets to do that except you.” 

More clear liquid gushes out of you, spraying and squirting all over him as your legs shake with another orgasm for that night—his name on your tongue, making his head spin as he fucks you through it. 

And then he’s spurting out thick loads of his hot cum into your sore pussy, shoving it further into you with every push of his cock inside your walls—making sure you know that only you get to be marked like this by him. 

end.

Masterpost

[cj-theyoungling]

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

cw : injuries ig. Idk man

synopsis : You decide to surprise Jason by coming home early to visit but he surprises you instead.

author's note : I've never written for the Batfam so if this is OOC I'm so sorry. I've been obsessed with them recently though.

"Jason!" You call across the foyer as you enter the Wayne mansion. You hang your jacket on the coat rack and smile at Alfred who enters the room.

"Good evening ma'am." He says, moving to grab your bag from you and hang it up.

"Good evening to you too Alfred." You greet him, "Is Jason here?"

"Master Todd is in his room." He informs you

"Thank you Alfred." You start up the stairs before turning to face Alfred again, "Oh I almost forgot. Here's the cookie recipe I promised you last time I was here."

"Much appreciated ma'am. Glad to see you back." He takes the card from your hands and then walks out to the kitchen.

You make your way to Jason's room and knock on the door. When the door creaks open and Damian peeks his head out.

"Where's Jason?" You ask in confusion, trying to open the door. Damian shoves his body weight against the door, preventing you from opening it further so you can't see inside.

"He's on patrol." Damian replies quickly, still trying to push the door shut.

"Alfred said he was here." You say to the younger boy and press your back against the door so you can shove your weight against it too.

"Well he's not." Damian struggles against the force of you pushing against the door.

"If he's not here then why are you in his room?" You question, shoving the door a bit more open, you chuckle at the intensity of Damian who is using all of his body weight to try and keep the door from opening. You're honestly surprised he hasn't started pulling out gadgets to aid him.

"No reason." You hear the tell-tale lift of his voice that tells you he's lying to you. With one more shove against the door you finally stumble into the room , barely keeping on your feet. You stand up straight and catch sight of Jason in the bathroom, picking glass shards out of his side with tweezers.

"Nothing to see here. Get moving." Damian says pushing you towards the door.

"It's fine Dams. You can go." Jason finally speaks up.

Damian huffs and walks out of the room. You close the door behind him and walk to the bathroom in front of Jason. You carefully take the tweezers out of his hands and take over picking the glass out of his side and chest.

"What happened?" You ask quietly.

"I fell out of a window." He explains, his hand comes to hold your wrist and pin it against his chest. You eyes trail up from where you were working to his eyes.

"Weren't you wearing body armor or something?" You ask, worry laced in your voice.

"I was caught off guard. i was just stopping a mugging on my way home."

"Why didn't you call a doctor? Or at least ask someone for help." He ignores your question and presses his lips to your forehead, "Jason," You begin again, he cuts you off with another kiss, this time to your lips.

His free hand cradles the side of your face so he can deepen the kiss. He pulls away with a smile, "I missed you sweetheart." he murmurs.

"I missed you too Jason. Let me finish cleaning you up." You insist. he let's go of your wrist and let's you finish cleaning and wrapping up his cuts.

The second you finish up your work his hands reach under your thighs to lift you up against him.

"How's college been sweetheart?" he asks between kisses.

"It's a lot better than Gotham State." You giggle.

"Mhm." He mumbles into your neck, setting you on the bed and pressing kisses to the crook of you neck while holding you tightly.

"The city hasn't gotten much better I see." You giggle. The two of you cuddle up on his bed, your head resting on his chest as he plays with your hair.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?" He asks

"I wanted to surprise you." You smile and press a kiss to his lips.

"I love you." he says against your skin.

"I love you too."

[yummymitzy]

It means everything to me.

Summary: The team decides to play a truth or dare game to end the night after one of Tony’s parties. Throughout the game, reader felt eyes on her, but she doesn’t know that they came from a certain redhead. Would something grow between them once the night falls?

Warnings: G!P Nat, SMUT, hair-pulling, back shots against door, spanking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, Nat jus bein rough n jealous, 18+ MINORS DNI

WC: 3,154 

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Rogers!Reader

————♡————

Stark parties at the compound were so very often hosted, it could have been for any occasion. As long as Tony thought it was a good time to celebrate, he’d host a party for that night. Today just happened to be one of those nights.

You, your brother Steve, Bucky, and Wanda were sent out on a mission four days ago. You four came back to the compound and deemed the mission successful, which made Tony practically jump up and exclaim that he’d host a party for tonight for another mission gone well.

You were definitely a party person, the life of a party whether you were drunk or not. But goddamn? The last party the team hosted felt like yesterday to you, when it was actually last week, but that was still close enough right? 

As of right now, you were getting ready for his party, as you take a quick glance at your phone, it was 5:45 and the party was at six, so you definitely had enough time to be ready by then. You set down your phone as you went straight to your closet, your makeup already done.

After rummaging through your dresses, it took you a few minutes before you came across your dress of the night and put it on. It was a backless maroon dress with a slit that went dangerously high on your upper thigh, the back of the dress incredibly accentuated your ass to which you appreciated. 

Overall it was a great dress, who were you going to impress? You weren’t sure but you had an idea though. You strolled out of your closet and heard a knock echo through your bedroom, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You still had way more time you wondered as you went to open the door.

There stood Bucky clad in a dark blue suit, hand still raised in the air as if he was going to open the door. Regaining his composure instantly, he drops the hand and leans against your doorway.

“You clean up nice, Buck. Didn’t think you still knew how to groom yourself with all that time you were up in the ice.” You tease lightly as you step back from your door and heading over to your vanity, putting in shiny gold earrings to complement the red.

“Hey… Don’t get used to it though.” He acts slightly hurt before switching to a joking manner. “But do hurry up, doll. At this point the party will be waiting up on you.” 

“I’m done, was just putting in earrings. Now cmon, I need a drink.” You slip on your red bottomed heels and brush past Bucky as you head down the corridor of the elevator, laughing slightly as he tries to catch up before the doors close.

As soon as the elevators open to where the party was being held, you went straight to the bar, in desperate need for a drink. Your eyes widen slightly before you smirk, realizing that Natasha had been put on bar duty.

Natasha was glammed up, hair curled down to her back, a long fitted emerald dress that showed off all her curves, it ran down to her knees and glimmered in the light. Her bright red lipstick complimenting it as she also has on some emerald earrings. 

You approach the bar, surprised Natasha hadn’t caught sight of you yet, until you stood right in front of her eyes, smirking. 

“Hey Nat, what got you doing bar duty tonight?” You lean against the bar counter, your arms crossed. The action making Natasha stare down at your breasts hungrily before she snaps her attention back onto you.

The thing was that you and Nat had this thing going on, where you’d both go back and forth with trying to flirt with each other. You never knew when exactly it started, Nat just started calling you pet names and being more touchy one day.  

But what she didn’t know was that the game got real on your side. You didn’t know what changed but you started becoming more flustered with her advances and even started blushing, something you never did. Until you realized, you liked her.

It had come a shock to you at first but as time passed, you came to terms with it and just played along with Natasha. It wasn’t like she liked you back, you doubt it, hell she might even be cuddling it up with Bruce.

“Fella did me wrong.”

“You got a real weird taste when it comes to your people Nat.” You laugh as you sat upon one of the many stools in front of the counter.

“It’s not all bad, and my taste in people are quite immaculate if you asked me, Y/n” She raised an eyebrow as she prepared your usual whiskey neat, before sliding it over to you as you laugh.

“Alright, alright, I’ll catch you later, Red” You stood up, your whiskey in hand as you go out to the couches and plopped yourself right next to Sam.

————♡————

You had completely lost track of what time it was, the party was long over and the after party had just started. 

You were sat in between Sam and Bucky with Tony on the far side of the couch. Across from you had been Bruce Natasha and Clint, while to the couch on the right of you was Wanda, Vision.   The couch left of you consisted of Tony, Thor, and Steve.

The team was so drunk they could barely uphold their conversations with one another. Thats how bad it was, and it was embarrassing that you were especially drunk too. 

Soon after, Tony stood up from his side of the couch and stepped forward while raising both of his arms. He proposed a game of truth or dare, refuse to do it, you take a shot. Your lips curled up into a smirk, you honestly couldn’t tell if you were too drunk or not but you did know that you wanted to play. 

After hearing the majority of the team agree, Tony had prepared a line of shots, just enough for the first few people before starting off the game. 

“Truth or dare, Capsicle.” Tony stared at Steve, a smug smirk planted on his face as he awaits Steves answer.

“Truth.”

“Is it true that Bucky was the cause of those “mosquito bites” when you came out to breakfast the other day?”

Bucky shifted in his seat at the mention of his name which made you shake in laughter as he playfully smacks your arm, catching the eye of Natasha.

“Yes.” Steve admitted, his face flushing a deep color of red as he leans back into the couch, before regaining his composure and picking his victim. “Wanda, Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” She raised an eyebrow as a slight smirk plays on her face.

“I dare you to give somebody in this room a lapdance. EXCEPT Vision.” Making Wanda widen her eyes slightly as she turns her head to look at Vision, to which he nods in confirmation, letting her know its alright. 

Wanda stands from her seat, slightly surveying the area before her eyes land on Sam, she approaches you with a torturously slow walk as she pretends to walk to Sam, before snapping her head to you and finding her place on your lap. 

Your eyes widen in shock as Tony tells Friday to dim the lights and play a song. You didn’t know what song it was, you were hyper focused with Wanda on your lap. You thought she was going to pick Sam, why you?

Across from you sat Natasha, you noticed she was fuming in her seat as she watched Wanda’s little show. Her knuckles turned white due to her deathly grip on the couch while a scowl was firmly planted on her face. If Natasha had been put into a cartoon, she would have definitely had smoke coming out of her ears.

Natasha was on her last straw when it came to the dance, all she wanted to do was stand up and rip Wanda off of you and take you for herself. As soon as she brushed away those thoughts, Wanda’s dance had already ended. But what she didn’t see was you sighing in relief after she retreated to her seat. 

————♡————

You and the team got a few more rounds in and this round ended up having Natasha as the victim.

“Truth or dare, Natasha.” Clint said as he bites his cheek to compose himself for her answer.

“Dare, arrowboy.” She smirks as she turns her whole body to face Clint as he begins cackling.

“Swap clothes with the person you find most attractive in this room.” He grins, visibly proud at his dare.

Natasha stands wondering her next move as she looks towards Wanda, her best friend. “Just go for it, whats the worst that could happen.” Wanda says in her head while she subtly nods her head towards you. 

Natasha thought it over once more before she strutted straight to you, her hips swaying as she walked, practically hypnotizing you. She held out a hand in your direction, her eyes meeting yours as they held an unspoken gentleness.

You took her hand as you lifted yourself up off the couch, you never realized how drunk you were until you were on your feet. You were slightly swaying as you tried to regain your balance, which was quick with the help of Natasha as she supported you with her other hand wrapped around your waist.

As you regained your balance, you noticed that you still were holding hands with her but you don’t find it in yourself to point it out. You move to take Natasha to another room nearby, her following behind you close by.

Once you both stumbled into an empty room, that was when you sobered up a little, but Natasha seemed drunker than ever.

“Are you sure you still want to do the dare? I could get Wanda to take you to your room.” You whisper, as you look up to meet Natashas gaze. 

You saw something change in Natasha’s eyes, from a drunken look to what you think is hunger?

The emotions that were brewing up within Natasha during the lapdance burst out of her as she shoved you against the door of the room, trapping your body between her and the door. 

“Nat!” You yelp, not expecting a reaction like this from Natasha.

“Ya know, I didn’t really like how Wanda was just grinding up on you..” She husks, her face inching towards yours as your gazes to each other never faltered. You can feel her hand hovering over your waist, soon stopping to rest there on the curve of your hips.

“But you wouldn’t really mind that would you, huh?” She smirked as she buried her head into your neck and kissing it slightly, leaving back bright red lipstick marks, she had also left some hickeys unbeknownst to you.

You sigh, leaning into her touch unknowingly and running your hands through her fiery hair before you pull her up gently and crash your lips onto hers.  

Natasha’s lips were as soft like they looked, you could have honestly gotten obsessed with them right then and there. You deepened the kiss as one of your hands slid down to her waist to pull her impossibly closer.

You were so focused on Natasha’s lips kissing you that you didn’t feel a hard bulge pressing up against your upper thigh. But soon enough was when Natasha started getting slightly desperate, subtly grinding against you as you felt the bulge become more insistent.

That was when you pulled away, slightly concerned. “Are you sure, Nat? You’re drunker than I am.” You ask, your eyes flickering between hers and her lips. 

“Yes baby, I’m sure. Plus I was at the bar handing out drinks, not downing shots with you and Wanda.” She whispered, her attitude rising with the added mention of Wanda. Her teeth grazing the skin of your neck as she nips at it before she pulls away entirely, making you whine.

“Awe detka, so desperate already? Did you get so desperate because of Wanda?” She snarled, as she flips you around by your hips, pushing your face into the door as she kept a deathly grip on you.

“Mphm! No, Nat. It’s all you.” Your voice is muffled against the door as she sternly keeps you pinned there. Your hands flat on the door to keep you stabilized as Natasha starts grinding her clothed bulge on you.

“Damn right it is.” She mumbled as she gave a harsh slap to your ass making you jolt forward into the door as you yelp. Before she continues grinding up on you.

Soon enough, Natasha reaches over to your front and over to your breasts as she gave them a quick squeeze before she trailed her hands to the straps of your dress. You peeled your hands away from the door to allow Natasha to practically rip the dress off of you.

The sight of you braless with a lacy red thong might as well make Natasha drool as her hands went straight to your ass, massaging the flesh and pulling a quiet whimper from you.

With quick efficiency, her dress was off in the blink of an eye, her boxers had an insanely large tent forming, to which you could already assume was by you. 

She takes off her boxers as quickly as her dress as she positions herself behind you on the door. Leaning down, her hands find themselves on your waist as her lips find the shell of your ear, her cock just centimeters away from your dripping heat as her breasts press against your back.

“I can tell you want this as much as I do, detka. You’re practically leaking onto the floor.” She husks into your ear, she doesn’t wait for an answer as she stands up straight and slams her cock into your wet cunt making you press your cheek against the door as you moan out. 

Natasha begins to pound herself into you, the sound of skin slapping, your moans, and Natasha’s grunts echo the quiet room as she ruts into your tight cunt.

“You’re so fucking tight, detka. Я не могу насытиться тобой. (I can’t get enough of you.)”She growls as she lifts her hand from your waist to pull at your hair, pulling you up to meet her front, her breasts brushing against your back once more as your back completely arches. 

The new position allowed Natasha’s cock to thrust even deeper into your cunt, her thrusts were powerful, each movement drove you up the door trembling with pleasure.

She started pounding up into you at a more intense pace, making you moan in shock, the action making you push back against her cock. Her hand that wasn’t in your hair lifted from your hip, and came down on your ass once again, sending a hard slap to it as she massaged the flesh immediately after.

“Ah! Fuck!!” You cried, the pleasure was too much to even suppress your moans as you kept pushing your hips back to meet Natasha’s relentless pace. “Oh, please Nat!!” You scream as she drove into you.

“Nat, I’m gon..gonna cum, please can I cum.” You begged, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Natasha fucked you dumb. 

“Go ahead and cum, baby.” 

To which you complied, your release had been intense but yet so full of pleasure. You trembled at reaching your climax, but to your surprise. Natasha kept rutting her cock into you as her thrusts got more and more sloppy as the seconds passed, her grunts turning into whines. 

“One more baby, just for me, c’mon. I know you’ve got another in you, please.” She pleaded as her thrusts grew more sloppier as she leaned her head down into your neck, placing delicate kisses on it as she tries to muffle her whimpers. 

You give her a loud moan in response, the overstimulation soon turning into overwhelming pleasure as you feel your second orgasm of the night building up in your lower belly. 

“Fuck..Im gonna cum detka. I can feel you clenching around me,” She babbled slightly, her red hair fluttering over the expanse of your back as she sets a faster pace for her relentless pounding, now nibbling on your neck to prevent her moans from spilling, her hand gliding in front of you as it frantically rubs at your clit.

“Fuck!!” “Cmon baby, cum, cum on my cock.” You and Natasha cried out as you reached your second climax of the night, your tight cunt clenching impossibly more around her shaft as your juices flow out of your pussy. 

The action made Natasha cum directly after you, the clenching of your soft velvety walls around her dick made her burst her seed into your womb as she let out a loud moan into the juncture of your neck. 

Natasha waited a minute before pulling out slowly, the overstimulation strong as she trembled slightly. She knew you were terribly overstimulated too with the way your legs were shaking. 

She watched as the both of your combined juices leak out of your cunt, a little bit of it landing on the floor as she fingered it back into you, making you moan once more. 

You rested your forehead against the door in front of you before slowly turning around to face Natasha, all while still leaning on the door. Natasha had always been a beautiful sight, especially now. 

Her hair was slightly tousled up, her cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red, her lips were smudged off of her lipstick, and her eyes held a deep softness and slight lust in them. You could always get lost in Natasha’s gorgeous eyes any day.

“Natasha, I just want to ask if this will mean anything to you. I wouldn’t want to have you like this with it not meaning anything.” You ask in a soft whisper, afraid of hearing the answer you dreaded the most.

Natasha saw the genuine sadness in your eyes as you whispered the question, the sight made her heart crack. It took her a second to respond as she gathered her words.

“I’ve loved you ever since Steve showed up with you in the living room. I always hoped that you returned those feelings I had for you. What happened between us right now, means everything to me, Y/n.” Natasha spoke softly, as if she were going to break a porcelain doll if she was any louder.

“I love you too, Nat. So much” You admit, walking up to Natasha and instantly closing the distance between you both. The kiss wasn’t lust filled at all, it was full of love and passion, something that you and Natasha always had for each other.

[sebscore]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: angst. angst. angst. swearing. like a lot of swearing. i cannot write crashes/contact for the life of me. argument. lando and reader are assholes in this. 

author's note: dont even ask me why i wrote this, i got inspired and needed it out of my system. lol. 

masterlist

''Retire the car. Too much damage. Sorry, Y/N.'' Marco informed her over the radio, sounding frustrated and apologetic over her already finished race. 

The driver took a deep breath before answering. ''Too bad, it was going well. Thanks, guys.'' 

Her race had in fact been going well. She'd made a great start going from P4 to P2, and had managed to keep up with the Red Bull of Max. They weren't even halfway in the race or Lando tried overtaking her, causing contact, causing her to run off in the gravel with too much trouble on the car to continue. 

In her opinion, it had been reckless. The McLaren driver knew exactly she would end up being forced off the track by the overtake, and that her race would most likely be over because of it. 

As she trudged back to the garage, helmet in hand, she could barely contain her frustration. The team greeted her with sympathetic looks, but she didn't stop to talk to anyone. She headed straight for her driver's room, needing a moment to cool off before she could face the media. 

Her hands trembled with anger as she peeled off her gloves, tossing them onto a nearby chair. The season hadn't been going how she had hoped or even expected it to go. Last year she had been the vice World Champion, the undisputed second-best driver on the grid, the only one to essentially have been able to challenge Max's dominance. Now, she got lucky to even end up in the top five of a race. Her team's design of the car hadn't been meeting the expectations the engineers had set, and upgrades weren't helping in the way they had hoped. 

That is why this race weekend had been a great boost for the team's morale and confidence. Qualifying had gone really well, and for a moment they were able to fight for the win even. But the papaya car of No. 4 had shoved their hopes down the drain. 

Minutes later, there was a knock on the door. She turned to see Marco standing there, looking concerned. ''You okay?'' 

''Have I ever been okay,'' she remarked, a sarcastic chuckle leaving her lips. ''I'm just pissed, that's all. I had high hopes for today.'' 

''We all did,'' he smiled sadly. ''The stewards reviewed the incident, but he, uh, didn't get a penalty.'' He said softly, almost as if he was afraid of her reaction.

The young woman let out a bitter laugh. ''Of course he didn't, why would he?'' Her hands covered her face, briefly wiping off the sweat that had formed. 

Marco took a step closer, his expression a mix of empathy and disappointment. ''You drove brilliantly out there. Everyone saw it. The team saw it. It's just... racing politics sometimes.'' 

She dropped her hands, meeting his eyes with a mixture of anger and resignation. ''It's always like that, though. It's always the same drivers suffering the consequences of others, and they don't get shit for it. It is fucking annoying.'' 

Her engineer nodded, understanding everything she was saying. ''I know, we all know. But we keep fighting. We keep pushing. This season isn't over yet.'' 

''Yeah, true.'' She sighed. 

Marco gave her a reassuring smile. ''We'll be ready for the next race. We're all in this together, okay? We're all behind you.'' 

She nodded, feeling a small measure of comfort in his words. ''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' They shared a quick embrace, before he left to join the team again. Meanwhile she got herself ready to go to the media pen. As much as she wanted to hide away, she knew it was part of the job. 

Since she had an early exit, there wasn't much activity inside the area, though there were a bunch of reporters waiting for her. 

''Y/N, tough race today. Can you tell us what happened from your perspective?'' The reporter asked after briefly greeting her. 

''Yeah, it was, uh, challenging, I guess,'' she plastered a smile on her face. ''We had a great start, moving up to P2 and keeping pace with Max. Then, yeah, the contact with Lando. The car had a bunch of damage, and we decided to just retire the car.'' 

''Do you think it was a fair move by him?'' He followed up. 

She paused, weighing her response. ''Racing is always intense, especially at this level. I don't think it was the right move to make, but the stewards saw it as a racing incident.  I'll respect their decision, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating.'' 

''You and Lando are good friends, and have been racing against each other since your karting days. Will you talk to him afterwards or just forget about it?'' 

They had expected a question like this, so the media-trained answer came out very quickly. ''It was deemed a racing incident, so there is not much to say further about it.'' 

''How do you and your team plan to bounce back from this setback?'' The reporter for Sky Sports changed the topic. 

''We'll regroup and come back stronger,'' she answered, injecting as much determination into her voice as she could muster. ''This season has been tough, but my team and I are committed to pushing forward. We learn from every race, and today is no different.'' 

''That's great, thank you, Y/N.'' They wrapped up the interview, and she moved onto a new one. 

Once she had spoken to everyone she needed to speak to, she finally had a moment to herself. She knew the words she had just spoken were the right ones, but they did little to soothe the turmoil inside her. 

It didn't help that Lando managed to take the lead, and eventually get his first win. As she watched the remainder of the race from the sidelines, her emotions were all over the place. On the one hand, she was proud of her friend for finally making his dream come true. However, it had come at the expense of her race. She had pushed so hard this season, and to see her friend and rival celebrate his triumph while she stood there with nothing but frustration was almost unbearable. 

The cheers from the McLaren garage echoed in her ears. They celebrated wildly, the joy of his long-awaited victory palpable even from a distance. He was swarmed by his team as they shouted his name. 

The podium ceremony was even worse. As Lando stood on the top step, the British national anthem playing in the background, she couldn't help but replay the moment that had ended her race. She could see the excitement in his eyes, the genuine happiness that came with achieving a lifelong dream. But all she could think about was the contact, the gravel trap, and the wrecked potential of what could have been her race. 

Under any other circumstance, she would have been there for him. She would have run to the ceremony herself, just like he had done for her when she got her first win in F1 and made history as the first woman to do so. But it just stung too deep. 

''Lando, there was an incident with Y/N that resulted in her retiring from the race. Can you tell us what happened there?'' The Dutch reporter asked the race winner. 

Lando's expression shifted slightly, the euphoria dimming just a bit. ''Uh, yeah. I saw a gap and went for it. It was a tight move, and unfortunately, it led to some contact. But that's racing, you know.'' 

''Have you spoken to her yet?'' 

''Not yet,'' he admitted. ''But I don't think there is much to talk about.'' He chuckled, quickly glancing sideways, but his laugh seemed forced.

''She told Sky Sports that she didn't think you made the right move there.'' The journalist said, instigating a headline for them to be able to use. 

Lando frowned at his words, but recovered. ''Well, that's her opinion. It was just racing for me.'' 

''So you don't regret making the move?'' The reporter pressed on. 

The Brit took a deep breath before answering. ''I regret that it ended her race. But as a racer, you have to take chances. It's a fine line, you know.''

The older man in front of him nodded at his response, knowing they had gotten a glimpse of the tension that was present between the fan-favorite duo. ''Thank you, Lando. Congratulations again.'' 

''Thank you.'' 

With that, the interview wrapped up, and Lando moved onto the next reporter. As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, so why was everyone talking to him as if he had done something wrong? 

Y/N was struggling to unwind. The events of the day played over and over in her mind, each replay more frustrating than the last. She tried to distract herself by either watching some TikToks or TV, but nothing could drown out her thoughts. The texts from her friends, family and team certainly didn't help. It was a nice gesture, but she didn't want to think about the race anymore and the messages weren't helping. Finally, she decided to call it a night and climbed into bed, hoping sleep would offer some respite. 

Just as she was starting to drift off, another knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. It was unusual for someone to bother her this late, especially when she was winding down in her hotel room.

She frowned and got out of bed, opening the door to find Lando standing there, wearing his signature grin, acting nonchalant as ever. ''You wanna come celebrate with us? We rented a club.'' 

Y/N frowned at him, confused over his casual behavior. ''No.'' She scoffed, offended by the mere thought. 

It was now Lando's turn to frown at his friend. ''Why?'' 

She crossed her arms, incredulous at his obliviousness. ''Why? Are you taking the fucking piss out of me or something.'' 

His grin faltered slightly, but he tried to maintain his composure. ''If this is about the racing incident then you're being ridiculous.'' 

Her eyes widened in disbelief, her frustration boiling over. ''I am being ridiculous? You were ridiculous with that move you pulled!'' She retorted, raising her voice. ''You ran me off the track knowing how hard this season has fucking been for me. You know how much I needed a good result today and you ruined it for me!'' 

''Y/N, I get that you're upset, but it's racing. These things are bound to happen. I saw a gap and I went for it. The stewards didn't even penalize me, so clearly, it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be.'' He was restraining from rolling his eyes, she could tell. 

She scoffed, shaking her head. ''Oh, so now you're agreeing with the stewards? Now that it is benefitting you? And there was no fucking gap, you were just being selfish. You knew what you were doing, and you didn't care how it would affect me.'' 

Lando's face hardened, his patience wearing thin. ''I didn't do it on purpose to screw you over, where the fuck are you getting that from? I saw an opportunity, and I took it. That's what we do out there. You know that better than anyone." 

''If that opportunity was ruining my fucking race, then yeah, you really took the opportunity, Norris.'' She rolled her eyes, voice tinged with sarcasm. 

He took a step closer, his frustration now matching hers. ''I'm sorry that you didn't get the result you wanted today, I really am. But I am not going to apologize for racing and doing my job, Y/N.'' 

She simply glared at him, disappointed in how he was acting towards her. They'd never really had an argument before, at least not one where they couldn't see each other's point. They'd been frustrated with each other before, but it was always in reason. 

''If anything, I should be angry with you- not the other way.'' Lando suddenly said. 

''Why's that?'' She sneered, almost in disbelief that he would have a valid reason. 

''Because you didn't even have the fucking guts to congratulate me,'' he snapped back, ''when you won Silverstone, I was literally one of the first people to hug you and congratulate you for your win. I stood next to your fucking parents, Y/N! And today you didn't even bother doing anything.'' 

Her mouth fell open, a mix of shock and anger flooding her veins. ''You are unbelievable… You ruined my fucking race, Lando! How am I supposed to stand there and cheer for you when you cost me everything today?'' 

He rolled his eyes while throwing up his hands. ''This isn't just about today. You're just jealous because my season has been going so much better than yours. You can't fucking stand that for one time I'm doing actually better than you.'' 

''Jealous… of you?'' The words came out like laughter, slightly hurting the McLaren driver's ego. ''You think I can't be happy for you because I'm not doing as well? That's so low, Lando.'' 

''Ever since the start of the season you've been so moody and distant, and now you can't even say or even fucking text me a congratulations for my first win. You're so pissed that I got a win before you this season, you can't even hide it.'' He shot back. 

''Oh, give me a break. Like you wouldn't act the same if you were getting all these shit results. Maybe I didn't congratulate you because I was too busy trying to scrape gravel out of my fucking tires.'' She remarked, throwing in the sarcastic comment. 

Lando looked unimpressed by her remark. ''You're just mad cause I'm outshining you. You can't fucking stand that I'm getting all the attention.'' 

''Outshining me? Are you hearing yourself?'' She mocked him, laughing bitterly. ''You get one win and you're acting like you're a fucking World Champion already. You've been riding Max's dick these last years hoping some of his success will rub off on you. Newsflash Norris, everyone is just fucking laughing at you.'' 

His face turned red, either embarrassment or anger. ''At least I'm not constantly whining about my car and blaming everyone else for my problems. Maybe if you spent more time focusing on your driving and less on complaining, you'd have more to celebrate.'' 

''You're a fucking spoiled brat who can't stand some competition. You think everything should be handed to you on a silver platter.'' She retorted. 

''And you're a fucking baby who throws a temper tantrum everytime you don't get what you want. It's time to fucking grow up, Y/N!'' He shouted, his voice rising with each word. 

She took a step closer to him. ''You should spend less time trying to prove yourself to people who don't give a shit about you, and more time trying to be a decent fucking human being. I'm ashamed to call you one of my best friends.'' 

That last sentence had clearly hit a nerve or several nerves. He shook his head, taking a few steps back. ''Fuck you, Y/N. Enjoy your pity party.'' Lando turned and walked away, joining his friends who were waiting in the lobby. 

She watched him go, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and heartbreak. She could feel the pulse of her racing heart, the adrenaline from their argument making her feel jittery and unsteady. 

A lump formed in her throat as she replayed the last few minutes in her mind. She cringed internally at the words she had fired at Lando, while also trying to ignore the sting from his own harsh words. She wondered how they would be able to come back from this. They had never been in a situation like this before, and she knew that she would never want to be in this situation again. 

The young woman knew that she had let her emotions get the best of her. She had always prided herself on being fair and understanding, but now she felt ashamed of herself. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another door opening. George peeked out, concern etched on his face. ''Y/N, you okay?'' 

She shook her head, not wanting to deal with anyone else. ''Mind your business, Russell.'' She retreated back into her room, not before slamming the door behind her. 

As she leaned against the closed door, the weight of the evening pressed down on her. The room felt too small, her emotions too big. She slid down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, and let the tears she had been holding back finally fall.

Even when she finally got up, even when she tucked herself in again for the final time, and even when she tossed and turned the entire night, the same question lingered in her mind. 

Are they still friends? 

The question haunted her, gnawing at her thoughts every time she closed her eyes. She replayed the argument over and over, dissecting every word, every expression. The hurt in his eyes, the anger in his voice- it all felt so raw and irreversible. 

As the hours dragged on, sleep remained elusive. The darkness of the room mirrored the uncertainty in her heart. She knew they both needed time to cool off, to reflect, but the thought of facing Lando again filled her with dread.

The first light of dawn began to seep through the curtains, and she felt no more at ease than she had the night before. 

Are they still friends? 

story ideas are always welcome, but remember that it can take a while for me to get to it! :)

[bluebeary-jay]

A promise softly sung

Astarion x f!Reader/Tav

Summary: before the battle that will decide his fate, Astarion is terrified of losing you to Cazador. you comfort him after a nightmare. (set at the beginning of act 3)

Tags: hurt/comfort, BIG angst and some fluff, poor boy doesn't believe he's deserving of love :( let's hold him until he changes his mind

Warnings: mentions of trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, memories of past abuse and torture, c*zador, being unable to move (briefly), tadpoles mention (idk if that's a trigger)

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: hiiiiiiiii my darlings <33 soo this is something else from what i usually write but i finished bg3 recently and i LOVED IT but i'm on a trip rn so in the absence of my pc i found some inner inspiration to write something again. honestly i missed writing very much but i had the biggest block for almost a year now but maybe it'll get better now that my classes are starting again and i'll be needing a distraction lmao. anyway comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and don't be shy to send in a request! and as always, happy reading!!! <3

He was there again.

Astarion loathed those hard, stone walls as much as he feared them. It was here that he once spent an entire night, having infernal script meticulously carved into his skin. It was here that he was punished every time he disappointed his master, every time he didn’t do well enough on his mission. It was here that he was reminded time and time again how worthless, pathetic and meaningless his existence was. It was here he returned in almost all of his nightmares.

But now you were here, too.

Astarion couldn’t believe this, but no matter how much he blinked or willed himself to wake up, the view before his eyes didn’t change. It was you, chained by the wrists to the ceiling where he was hanging so many times before, your toes just barely scraping the ground that was already splattered with your blood. Your clothes were ripped to shreds and cuts and bruises covered almost every inch of your skin. Astarion wanted to run up to you, to get you somewhere safe and far away from this place, but he found that he was unable to move. It wasn’t shock seizing up his limbs, but magical paralysis which he had experienced a couple of times during combat. Even though he knew it was a spell that was holding him in place, he still fought against it with all the strength he could muster – but to no avail.

Your eyes, full of tears and fear, met his briefly before you looked past him at someone else.

“Ah, my sweet, insolent boy,” whispered a voice straight from Astarion’s deepest, darkest nightmares, causing him to tense up in terror. A hand – pale, all too familiar in its deceptive tenderness – brushed his jaw from behind before grabbing his hair roughly. The vampire spawn could do nothing but watch as his head was tilted back and he came face to face with his master.

No, it can’t be… How was Cazador here? How were you here?!

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Astarion,” Cazador tutted, shaking his head. “Running away like that, not returning home for months… It’s no way to treat family, isn’t it?” Astarion felt a sharp sting of his master’s quarterstaff at his back, digging into the scars made by the same hand, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream. “But I’ll forgive you… eventually. After all, you brought me this delectable treat…”

Both him and Cazador looked up at you when Astarion realized what – or rather, who – that bastard was talking about. He tried shaking his head, tried begging for him not to hurt you, but he still couldn’t move, his voice was still stuck past his throat and no word or sound came out. In the meantime, Cazador stood up, walking around his spawn to stand in front of you.

“His own survival was always the most important thing to him,” Cazador said almost pitifully, and only after a moment Astarion realized that this time, he was speaking to you. “He’s a selfish, contemptuous creature, after all. Say, did he tell you he loved you before he lured you here like so many others before you? Did he lie, swearing how much you mean to him?”

“Yes, he… he did.”

Astarion prayed to any higher being that it was just the power of another spell compelling you to say that, and not what you were really thinking. He tried to struggle against his own magical restraints, but whatever scroll or verbal command was used, it was far too powerful for the vampire to beat it with sheer willpower alone. He was helpless again – but worse than that, he was forced to watch you being at Cazador’s mercy, too, all while he couldn’t do anything to save you.

“I honestly didn’t think poor Astarion had it in him,” Cazador continued calmly, gliding gracefully around you and disappearing behind your back. Your own eyes, now full of hurt and betrayal, were trained on Astarion’s. He couldn’t turn away, but in the corner of his vision the elf saw a flash of a blade against your bare skin. “To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him… But I’m so very proud of you, sweetling.” Cazador looked at him over your shoulder and licked his lips, so, so dangerously close to your neck. “You’ll live to serve me for centuries to come, and you can watch your lover take your place in my ritual… You did well, Astarion.”

No, Astarion cried in the prison of his own body, unable to reach you or to even stop Cazador from spilling lies into your ears. Not her, no, no, please–

“No!”

Cazador smiled widely and sank his teeth into your fragile neck, and you screamed, still looking at Astarion with this horrible hatred in your eyes…

“No, no, please! Take me, please, just don’t–”

“My love, it’s alright, you’re safe…”

“Stop! Please, just–!”

His body suddenly jerked painfully and his eyes shot open, darting around in confusion and trying to figure out where he was. Astarion wasn’t feeling the cold frigid air of the kennels anymore – instead his skin was almost hot, and damp from sweat, but there was something smooth and soft under his back… the sheets. He was in a bed, at an inn. Still panting heavily, he looked around, noting the details in his surroundings: the crooked chandelier, a little window with curtains drawn shut, his shirt hung neatly over the back of the chair… and your shoes right next to it.

At the memory of your battered and tortured body in Cazador’s dungeon, Astarion shot up with a belated sob, almost knocking you over in the process. Only when your warm hand left his cheek did he notice your presence. You were kneeling next to him on the mattress, expression worried and sorrowful, with the last traces of sleep just leaving the edge of your vision. His red eyes scanned your body, but there were no bruises, no cuts made by Cazador’s wretched blade, no burns on your wrists from the manacles he saw you in mere moments ago.

And there was no hatred in your gaze. Only love and care he didn’t deserve.

Astarion’s eyes filled with tears, but before he could run out of the room or hide under the bed, you opened your arms, gently offering him the solace within. And he, being the selfish, contemptuous creature that he was, didn’t deny himself what he wasn’t worthy of.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, petting his hair softly, while the other hand was – as always – mindful of the scars on his back. “It was a dream, my love. You’re safe here with us.”

His body shook with quiet sobs as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the soothing scent of your skin and your blood singing to him just beneath. He saw again before his eyes the way Cazador looked at him before he bit you, right in this place he was now so close to…

To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him…

“I’m sorry,” Astarion choked out, finding his voice at last, which made you pause in your ministrations. “I’m so sorry f-for not doing anything… He…”

You were quiet for a couple of seconds, but then Astarion felt the most tender touch of your lips on the crown of his head, and he buried his face more into your chest.

“I’m here, darling,” you whispered. “Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real.”

He didn’t answer, instead lifting his arm and tentatively brushing his fingers just underneath your shirt. He didn’t feel any scars mirroring his own, but could still see the blood flowing from your back and down your legs, could still hear your painful scream… It brought fresh tears to his eyes again.

“I… I swear, I would never do that,” he attempted to explain himself, but his words came out in a pathetic sob, and he shook his head again, curling in on himself. “He– he was lying. I’d never…”

A fresh wave of tears wetted your shirt, but you didn’t seem to mind as you gently rocked him back and forth, cradling him safe in your arms. Old Astarion would probably scoff at the condescending action of being treated like an infant, but he knew better now. He still found it difficult, but with you at his side he was learning what true care and affection looked like, and how to accept it. You were always so patient with him, so gentle, never rushing or angry when he couldn’t give you the closeness and intimacy you deserved. Astarion loved that about you – even if he wasn’t ready to say it out loud just yet.

“My star…” you hesitated, but ultimately asked, “what did you dream about?”

The vampire took a shaky breath, unable to open his eyes or speak about what he saw. Instead, he called on the tadpole in his brain and nudged your mind with it, wordlessly asking for permission, which you immediately granted. There was at least one thing the tadpole was good for, he thought as you lived through the nightmare his weak, broken mind had conjured. If by the gods’ grace all of them managed to get rid of the tadpoles and survive this whole ordeal… and if by some miracle you still wanted to stay with him after all was done… Astarion knew he would have to learn how to communicate his feelings on his own. But not tonight. Not tonight.

You didn’t say anything for a long while, only continuing to hold him close to your chest. In this position he could hear the soothing beat of your heart, proving that he didn’t lead you to Cazador, that he didn’t turn you into a monster like him…

“We’re gonna kill him,” you finally said with your throat tight from emotions. “I promise you, as soon as we get to the Baldur’s Gate, we’ll find him and end him for good.”

Astarion knew what he should say – he should agree, or maybe jest that this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever said, or even argue that it’s not going to be that easy.

But all he could do right now was to continue clinging to you like a child, too afraid to face you.

“I’d never give you away,” he breathed, so quietly that he wasn’t sure you heard it, but he didn’t care. “Even if I had to suffer another two hundred years. I’d never–”

“I know, my darling,” you whispered back, and Astarion felt your own tears disappearing in his white locks. He still couldn’t believe why someone like you would waste your tears on him of all people, and it caused a new kind of pain to bloom in his chest. “And you’re not those things he told you. You’re… you’re everything to me, Astarion. Everything.”

Astarion wondered if he’d ever believe that. You proved to him time and time again that you can make anything possible, even change the worldview of someone like him… but with Cazador’s threat still looming, he didn’t have it in him to try and convince himself of your words.

Maybe after the bastard's dead, he concluded. Maybe then it’ll get easier and he can finally start becoming someone deserving of you.

You stirred slightly, breaking him out of his musings. Astarion hugged you tighter, sharply stopping you from moving away.

“Please. Don’t go.”

You just leaned back on the pillow and kissed his head gently again. Astarion felt the tension in his body melting away just a little, but the tears welled up again in his eyes.

“I won’t. Promise.”

And you kept your promise. Astarion didn’t fall asleep again, but your constant heartbeat under his cheek brought him some semblance of peace as he waited for the sun to rise. It didn’t feel right to let you care for him so much, to gift and envelop him with your love that he didn’t deserve… But it’d be even more wrong to take that choice away from you. He knew all about that, after all, and he'll be damned if he ever treats you the way he was treated.

So Astarion decided that he will let you love him and he will love you in return, for as long as you allow it.

Because, truth be told, he was nothing if not a selfish, contemptuous creature.

[mywritersmind]

OK PUT MY NUMBER. - LN4

summary : Based off the gilmore girls scene where Logan and his friends meet Rory at her dorm!! Hope you enjoy <3

listen up : no warnings!! lando!collegereader

word count : 1017

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Okay, Franco. Last building!” A man walks past me as I rearrange the items I'm attempting to carry without dropping. “Please say it looks familiar!”

I grab my coffee and stack of books, eyeing the group of boys who have strayed into the girls' dorms.

“Ahh!” One of the boys says, his eyes closed like he’s trying to manifest his way.

The tallest (and that’s not saying much) and tannest of the group groans, “Apparently it doesn’t seem familiar.” He’s got a thick accent, maybe spanish?

“Hold on!” The other boy with thick waves finally opens his eyes and says, “Hold. On. Yes! Here, this is where she lives!” And for the first time, me being quite nosy, it finally works out in my favor.

They go straight to my dorm. My single dorm.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” I walk closer to them, the one in the back has his hands lazily strewn in his pockets and walks straight past me with no answer.

“Hey!” I follow them to my door where the other two are writing on what looks like a crumpled piece of paper.

“Don’t put your number, Don’t put your number!” His accent surprises me but as I stare at the back of his curly hair, I scoff at me being ignored.

“I’m not putting my number, I’m putting your number!” His friend says, a twinkle in his green eyes

“That’s my room.” I speak up finally, the three turn harshly and eye me.

“Ok, put my number.” The curly haired one, british and ridiculously attractive, says as he smirks.

His eyes examine me as his friend groans, “Are you sure this is your room?”

I nod, “I’m sure.”

“I could have sworn it was her room!”

I balance my books, “What’s her name, maybe I know her.”

“It was uh…” he uses his hands to talk, “Short.”

I raise a brow, “Oh! I can understand your disappointment… losing a potential soulmate like that.” The cute one close to me laughs, “But that’s still my room.”

He motions to me, “I’m sorry about the mix up. It’s just- my friend Franco here needs to learn that Guineess and blondes don’t mix.”

“Redheads.” Franco corrects, “It doesn’t mix with redheads!”

He turns back to me, looking tired, “We sincerely apologize and will now leave you with your…” he eyes my books, “library?”

I frown as the other two run up the stairs, Franco saying his memory is coming back. I slip my key out of my pocket and start to open my door, “It’s called being a college student.” I sigh at the heaviness of my books, though most are for my own pleasure, “I’ll leave you to your friends.” I struggle with my key more, my cheeks getting warm because he’s just staring at me.

The man bites his lip, thinking for a moment, “Ah, they can manage.” Before I know it, his (huge) hands are taking my books from me. I eye him at first but then unlock my door with ease.

“Thanks.” I mumble and step inside, he follows after me and I don’t shut the door. He sets the books down on my table, his eyes darting around.

I watch him push up the sleeves to his blue long sleeve and take him in.

He’s got curls, a clean face, and a muscular build. He's not very tall but still looks down on me. The thing I can’t help but notice is his eyes clashing with his dark hair.

“I’m Lando!” He holds out his hand which I shake with a slightly confused expression, “Sorry again about my friends.”

“Y/n.” I smile politely, wishing I had cleaned up my place or something, “And don’t worry. They're funny.”

He rolls his eyes, “Franco and Carlos are definitely strong personalities!” I laugh, “We’re visiting Carlos’ sister. She’s a freshman…” he looks nervous saying the year, “Francesca.”

“Oh I'm not very clued into the freshman circle.” I shrug, “I’m a senior.”

“Oh shit- I just thought cause the dorm…” Lando shakes his head, “I should have noticed, you don’t look eighteen.”

I raise a brow, “Appreciate it…” He scratches the back of his neck and I laugh purely at the situation of this random British man in my room, “Uh- where do you go to school?”

“Oh I don’t!” He seems happy that I asked him something, “I’d be…” He counts on his fingers, “two years out anyway but I never went to uni. I work with those two muppets.”

“Oh!” I can’t help but mentally scream that he’s in my age range, “What do you do?”

Lando looks nervous again, his facial expressions are undeniably impossible to hide, “We drive.”

“Drive?” He nods, “Like a chauffeur?”

“There’s a car involved.” He holds back his smile as there’s booming footsteps and two heads pop into my room.

“Lando boy!” Carlos grins, “He thinks he remembers!”

Lando looks at me, looking regretful but still walks over to the open door, “See you around, Y/n.” He smiles and god I’ve never seen a smile like that. I feel my cheeks go pink, smiling softly and waving.

“Good luck.”

The door shuts a second later and I immediately bring my books to my makeshift bookshelf, trying to ignore the smile on my face.

I’m being ridiculous, I know I am. He’s older, British, and I will probably never see him again! But at least I can zone out in class about something.

I pull a hoodie over my head when I hear a knock at the door, “Coming!” I yell as I stumble over the clothes on my floor.

Except when I open the door, no one’s there.

I think it’s some bored frat boys until I go to close the door and see a yellow sticky note stuck to the wood.

I look around but there’s no cute man around. I shut the door, leaning against it and smiling down at the note, taking out my phone and typing in the number.

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt.15

Word Count: 25.5k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, possession, forced pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, tw if u have tokophobia, pet names like kitten, sweetie, honey, xavier appears, attempted murder, threats, suicide threats

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh @eliasxchocolate @nozomiaj @xmiisuki @sylus-kitten @its-regretti @ve1vet-cake @letgobro @starkeysslvt @yarafic @prince-nikko @connorsui @iluvmewwwww75 @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer @someone-somewheres-stuff @zaynesjasmine1 @honnylemontea @altariasu @sorryimakira @pearlymel @emidpsandia @angel-jupiter @hwangintakswifey @webmvie @housesortinghat @shoruio @gojos1ut @solomonlover @mysssticc @elegantnightblaze @mavphorias @babylavendersblog @burntoutfrogacademic @sinstae @certainduckanchor @ladyackermanisdead @sh4nn @milkandstarlight @lilyadora @nyumin @kiwookse @anisha24-blog1 @weepingluminarytale @riamir @definitionistato @xxhayashixx @adraxsteia @hargun-s @cayraeley @xxfaithlynxx @palomanh @spaceace111 @euridan

AN: This is on A03! Pls heed the tw!! This is an intense chapter and its okay to put it down and come back later. Take care! <3

Check my masterlist for the other parts!

“I did all of this. For you,” Xavier said, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. He stood frozen, his shoulders tense, his fists trembling at his sides as he stared at you. “You left with me. You wanted to kiss me too… in the cabin.” His tone grew quieter, almost disbelieving, as though he couldn’t reconcile what had just happened with what he thought you shared.

Xavier’s voice cracked again, barely above a whisper. “Tell me. Was it really a lie?”

Sylus wasn’t a stupid man. In fact, he prided himself on his ability to see through others, to read them like open books no matter how tightly they tried to shut their covers. To know even their deepest desires. And today, you had been an especially transparent read. The slight changes in your tone, the fleeting glances you cast around the mall, the way your fingers twitched nervously when you thought he wasn’t looking—it all painted a clear picture. You had been planning something from the moment you stepped foot outside the car.

Still, he had allowed it to play out. Part of him had hoped, against better judgment, that you might surprise him. That for once, you might set aside whatever fire still smoldered inside you and truly appreciate the lengths he had gone to for this day. The shopping trip, the presents, the brief taste of freedom—it had all been for you. A chance for you to feel a semblance of normalcy before the baby arrived, a chance to understand the life he was building for you and your daughter.

But you were predictable, as always. He had given you an inch, and you had taken a damn mile.

As he stood by the railing outside the store, watching from a distance, he felt no anger. At least, not the fiery kind that consumed lesser men. No, Sylus’s anger was a cold thing, methodical and patient. He had learned long ago that rage blinded the mind, and he preferred to see things with perfect clarity. And now, as his sharp crimson eyes followed you across the store, clarity was all he felt.

There you were, running straight into the arms of him. The ash-blond man with those annoyingly sincere blue eyes. Xavier.

Sylus watched as the two of you embraced, your body trembling as you clung to him like a lifeline. Xavier’s arms wrapped around you with a possessiveness that made Sylus’s jaw tighten. It wasn’t just the embrace that irked him—it was the look in Xavier’s eyes. The way they softened as he gazed down at you, as though he had every right to hold you like that. As though Sylus hadn’t already claimed you.

The sight should have infuriated him. And yet, Sylus remained calm. He couldn’t bring himself to feel the boiling rage that others might have in his place. No, this wasn’t anger—it was confirmation. Proof that Xavier had to be dealt with, once and for all.

The faintest smirk tugged at Sylus’s lips as he watched Xavier grab your hand, his movements hurried and frantic as he led you out of the store. Sylus knew exactly where the two of you were headed. The parking lot. Of course. It was laughable, really—this desperate attempt to run, as if Sylus didn’t already have his web spun tightly around you in more ways than one.

How quaint.

Sylus turned, his steps measured and deliberate as he began walking toward the mall’s main entrance. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone, dialing without hesitation. The line clicked almost immediately.

“Have the car ready,” Sylus said, his voice calm and smooth, though there was an unmistakable edge to it. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

“Yes, sir,” came the twins’ simultaneous reply before the line went dead.

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, Sylus continued toward the glass doors, the faint hum of mall activity buzzing around him. He passed by the bustling food court, his mind turning over possibilities with calculated precision. What would Xavier’s next move be? Would he drive you straight out of the city? Find a safe house? Attempt to flee beyond his reach?

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. You could run as far as you'd like, he would find you. He had proven that before, and he would prove it again.

His thoughts drifted to you, to the desperation in your eyes as you’d clung to Xavier. Did you think this was freedom? Did you truly believe that running to another man’s arms would save you? Sylus’s chest tightened as he imagined the way you must have felt—hopeful, relieved, like a bird released from a cage. But you hadn’t escaped anything. Not really.

“My little dove,” he murmured to himself, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Fly as far as you like. Your cage will always be just behind you.”

The glass doors of the mall slid open as Sylus stepped outside, the cool evening air brushing against his skin. He paused for a moment, glancing around with a faint smirk. His car was already idling by the curb, the twins standing attentively by the doors, their bodies relaxed but ready. He made his way toward them with the same unshakable composure he always carried, his mind already working through the steps ahead.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Sylus climbed into the car, leaning back against the seat as he stared out the window. His fingers tapped lightly against his knee, his eyes glinting in the bright light. The game had shifted, and the hunt was on. But he wasn’t worried.

Because he always won.

You flew into Xavier’s arms, clinging to him as though letting go would rip him away forever. Your body trembled uncontrollably, tears streaming down your cheeks in hot, unrelenting waves. Every ounce of strength you’d used to hold yourself together for months crumbled in an instant, leaving nothing but raw emotion in its place. His arms wrapped around you tightly, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity. His warmth, his scent—everything about him screamed safety, familiarity, home.

It was real. This had to be real.

Your shoulders shook as you sobbed into his chest, your fists gripping his shirt with a desperation that felt primal. “This…isn’t a dream, right?” you whispered, your voice broken, barely audible between your gasping sobs. “You’re real?”

Xavier’s arms tightened around you, his voice low and steady, a soft balm against your chaos. “I promise I’m real, my love,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your hair. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and the tenderness of it made your heart clench painfully.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your face pressed against the fabric of his shirt. You could feel the faint thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and reassuring, a rhythm you had yearned for but feared you might never hear again. For months, you’d clung to the fragile hope that you’d find him, but now that he was here, holding you, it felt like an impossible dream.

But the dream crashed into reality when you felt a sharp kick from your belly. You froze for a moment, the sensation pulling you back to the present. Your daughter moved again, a firm reminder of her presence. You shifted slightly, and Xavier stiffened, his body instinctively adjusting as if to shield you. His gaze dropped, and you knew he felt it too—the undeniable proof of your pregnancy.

His hands loosened slightly, giving you space as he stepped back just enough to look down at you. His blue eyes widened as they flickered to the swell of your stomach, his expression shifting from relief to surprise, then to something gentler—something you couldn’t quite read.

The shame hit you like a tidal wave. Heat rushed to your face as your tears faltered, and you quickly averted your gaze, unable to bear the silent question lingering between you. You opened your mouth, scrambling for words, for a way to explain what couldn’t be explained. “This…this isn’t what it looks like,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t willingly—”

“Shh.” Xavier’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, calm and firm yet full of compassion. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that still clung to your skin. “You don’t have to explain,” he said, his gaze locking with yours. “I know. I know.”

His words sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there was no time to dwell on it. His grip on your hand tightened, and the softness in his expression hardened into sharp focus. His eyes darted toward the entrance of the store, scanning the area with practiced precision.

“We can’t talk here,” he said quietly, urgency lacing his words. “There’s no time. He’s not dumb. He’s probably already realized you’re not coming back.”

Your stomach churned at his words. He was right. Sylus was many things, but careless wasn’t one of them. If he hadn’t already figured out what was happening, it wouldn’t be long before he did. You could practically feel the weight of his presence, the intensity of his gaze, even though he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Xavier’s hand on yours kept you steady as he began guiding you out of the store. His movements were purposeful, each step measured but swift. Your heart pounded in your chest, so loud you could barely hear the ambient noise of the mall around you—the faint murmur of shoppers, the echo of footsteps on polished floors, the distant hum of escalators.

Your eyes darted around nervously, scanning for any sign of Sylus. Every passing shadow, every sudden movement made your pulse spike. The fear that had been simmering in the back of your mind now roared to life, a suffocating weight pressing down on you.

“Keep moving,” Xavier whispered, his voice barely audible but commanding. He cast another glance over his shoulder, his body tense, ready for anything. “We’re almost there.”

The two of you weaved through the crowd, the press of bodies both a comfort and a curse. On one hand, they shielded you, made it harder for anyone to track you. But on the other, every stranger’s face felt like a threat, every curious glance like a dagger aimed at your heart.

As you approached the mall’s glass doors, the cool evening air beyond them became a beacon, a promise of freedom. You focused on that sliver of light, letting it guide you, letting it fuel the hope that was slowly beginning to grow.

But your legs felt heavy, like they might give out at any moment. The adrenaline that had carried you this far was starting to falter, leaving behind the exhaustion of months spent holding everything together. Your breaths came in shallow gasps, but you forced yourself to keep moving.

Finally, the two of you reached the doors, and Xavier pushed them open with one hand, keeping the other firmly on yours. The cool air hit your face, a sharp contrast to the stifling tension inside. For the first time in what felt like forever, you took a deep, steadying breath.

But it wasn’t over yet. You weren’t free yet.

“Stay close,” Xavier said, his tone protective as he led you toward the parking lot. His grip on your hand was firm but gentle, a tether that kept you grounded as the world spun around you.

You nodded, unable to form words as your mind raced with a hundred possibilities. What if Sylus was already out here? What if he was watching, waiting? You couldn’t afford to think about it. Not now. Not when freedom was so close you could almost taste it.

The two of you moved quickly, Xavier’s steps confident and unrelenting as he navigated through the rows of parked cars. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, half expecting to see Sylus’s crimson eyes cutting through the air. But the parking lot was quiet, the only sounds the distant hum of traffic and the occasional chirp of car alarms.

As Xavier reached into his pocket for his keys, you couldn’t stop the question that slipped from your lips. “What now?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Xavier turned to you, his expression both determined and gentle. “Now, we get you out of here. Both of you.” His hand rested briefly but hesitantly on your belly, his touch reassuring. “And then we figure out where to keep you so your safe. For good this time.”

His words sent a shiver through you—not of fear, but of hope. For the first time in months, you felt like escape wasn’t just a dream. It was a possibility.

As Xavier opened the car door and helped you inside, you cast one last glance at the mall behind you. The faint flicker of lights, the bustling crowds, the life you were leaving behind.

And somewhere in the shadows, you knew Sylus was watching. Waiting.

But for now, you were free.

The hum of the car engine filled the heavy silence, a low and constant reminder of the miles slipping by. Outside the windows, the scenery blurred into a muted palette of greens and grays, the fading light of morning casting long shadows across the road. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, your mind racing with thoughts that felt too big to untangle.

Xavier hadn’t said much since you climbed into the car. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles pale against the leather. His jaw was clenched, his eyes focused on the road ahead as if the act of driving required every ounce of his attention. The silence between you was suffocating, thick with unspoken words and the weight of everything you’d both endured.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Why didn’t you come for me sooner?” you asked, your voice quiet but sharp, cutting through the stillness like a blade. You didn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, but the question had been burning in your mind ever since he had come for you.

Xavier flinched slightly at the words, his shoulders tensing as he exhaled through his nose. For a long moment, he didn’t respond, and you thought he might brush the question off entirely. But then, he spoke, his voice low and steady, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place—regret? Shame?

“He blackmailed me.”

You blinked, startled by the admission. “What?”

Xavier’s grip on the wheel tightened further, his gaze fixed on the horizon as he continued. “Sylus. He blackmailed me. He made it impossible for me to act without risking everything.”

Your breath caught, confusion and disbelief swirling in your chest. “What do you mean? Blackmailed you how?”

Xavier hesitated, his jaw working as if he were weighing the words before saying them aloud. “It started after you disappeared,” he began, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “I was looking for you. I left no stone unturned, no lead unexplored. I didn’t care what it took—I was going to find you. But Sylus…” He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “He made sure I couldn’t.”

The weight of his words sank into your chest, leaving you breathless. “What did he do?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Xavier finally glanced at you, his blue eyes dark with a mix of anger and guilt. “He threatened to hurt you if I kept looking. To hurt people who had nothing to do with this too."

Your stomach twisted as the pieces began to fall into place. You’d known Sylus was ruthless, manipulative, but hearing it from Xavier made it all feel more real. “He…he threatened to hurt me?” you whispered, horrified. You almost couldn't believe it.

Xavier nodded stiffly, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. "He had his eyes everywhere, his reach in places I didn’t even know existed. He made it clear that finding you would come at a cost—and not just to me.”

A wave of guilt and sorrow crashed over you, rendering you speechless. You turned away, staring out the window as you tried to process what he was saying. The silence returned, heavier now, laden with the weight of his confession and the reality of what Sylus had done to both of you.

You felt like you should say something, offer some kind of comfort, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you sat there, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts that refused to settle.

“I didn’t stop looking for you,” Xavier said after a long moment, his voice breaking the silence again. There was a quiet desperation in his tone now, a need for you to understand. “I couldn’t. But I had to be careful, deliberate. Every step I took felt like walking a tightrope, and I knew one wrong move could…” He trailed off, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I hated it. Every second of it.”

You nodded slowly, though your gaze remained fixed on the passing trees. “I didn’t know,” you murmured, your voice shaking. “I didn’t realize he…” The words failed you, leaving you to sink further into the silence.

For the next few minutes of the drive, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the low hum of the engine and the faint rhythm of your breathing. But the tension in the car was no longer suffocating—it was raw and open, a quiet acknowledgment of everything that had been stolen from both of you.

"You know…he blackmailed me too kinda," you said softly, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the car. Your voice was tentative, almost drowned out by the faint hum of the engine. You kept your gaze on the road ahead, unable to meet Xavier’s eyes as the weight of your words settled in the confined space.

Xavier glanced at you, his blue eyes earnest and filled with quiet concern. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready,” he said gently. His voice was steady, warm—a stark contrast to the turmoil raging in your chest.

You shook your head slowly, your hands trembling as they rested on your belly. “No,” you whispered. “It’s fine. I want you to know. You deserve to know.”

He didn’t push, didn’t press for details. Instead, he waited, his silence giving you the space to gather your thoughts. The words felt heavy, lodged in your throat like stones, but you forced them out anyway, each one cutting into the fragile peace that had momentarily settled between you.

“He said if I ever spoke your name…he’d kill you,” you said, your voice cracking on the last word. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your dress as you glanced down at your stomach, your shame and fear twisting into an unbearable knot. “He also said if I didn’t feed the baby…” You swallowed hard, the memory still as sharp and raw as the day Sylus had first uttered the threat. “He’d kill you then, too.”

The confession hung in the air like a dark cloud, oppressive and suffocating. The only sounds were the faint rumble of the car and your own unsteady breathing. Your heart raced as you waited for Xavier to respond, your mind spiraling into a hundred different worst-case scenarios. What if he was angry? Hurt? Or worse, what if he couldn’t look at you the same way after hearing it all?

Xavier didn’t say anything right away, but the tension in his jaw told you he was processing it. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, but his face remained calm. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and measured. “I understand,” he said, his tone careful. He paused, glancing at you again before asking hesitantly, “Are you…are you keeping it?”

The question hit you like a slap, not because it was inappropriate, but because of how much weight it carried. You knew what he meant, but even so, the word “it” stung. Xavier must have realized immediately, because he winced and quickly corrected himself. “Ah, sorry. Not ���it.’ I don’t know the gender.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his awkwardness, and for the first time in what felt like hours, a small laugh escaped your lips. It was faint and fleeting, but it was there—a fragile spark in the sea of tension.

“The baby is a girl,” you said, your voice softening. “It’s okay.”

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze shifted back to the road, his jaw tightening again as if bracing himself for whatever came next.

“And…I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “Just a day ago, I was preparing to accept my new life as a mom. I told myself I had to. That I didn’t have a choice.” You paused, taking a shaky breath as your hand moved to your belly, tracing slow circles over the fabric. “And now…now my brain is all over the place. I just want her to be safe. To grow up happy.”

Silence enveloped the car again, heavy and suffocating. You stared out the window, the glow of sun illuminating the streets. Your daughter kicked again, and you pressed your palm against your stomach, trying to reassure her even as your own fears consumed you.

When Xavier didn’t respond, your chest tightened with a fresh wave of anxiety. Was he regretting this already? Was this too much for him? The thought was like a dagger, sharp and cold, and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out.

“I understand if this is a lot,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You turned your head slightly, your eyes searching his face for any sign of his thoughts. “If you don’t want me anymore…”

The moment the words left your lips, Xavier’s head snapped toward you, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. His expression was equal parts shock and disbelief, and for a terrifying second, you thought you’d made a mistake.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”

You flinched at the firmness in his tone, but before you could retreat into yourself, his hand left the wheel and reached for yours. His palm was warm, his grip steady as his fingers laced through yours. The gesture was grounding, a lifeline in the sea of doubt.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice softening but losing none of its conviction. “This is a lot. I won’t lie to you about that. But it’s not too much. Not for me.”

Your breath caught as he continued, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “Do you really think I’d give up now?” he asked, his voice almost breaking. “After everything? After months of looking for you, of fighting to get to this moment?”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as his words wrapped around your heart like a protective shield. You tried to speak, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Instead, you nodded, the motion small and uncertain.

“I don’t care about the circumstances,” Xavier said, his voice steady. “You’re still the woman I love. And that little girl you’re carrying?” His gaze flickered briefly to your belly before returning to your face. “She’s part of you. That’s all I need to know.”

The dam inside you broke, and the tears came freely now, your shoulders shaking as the weight of everything you’d been holding finally crashed down. Xavier didn’t flinch, didn’t let go. If anything, his grip on your hand tightened, his thumb brushing small, soothing circles over your knuckles.

“You don’t have to figure this all out today,” he said softly. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Together.”

His words hit you with the force of a tidal wave, overwhelming and comforting all at once. For the first time in months, the crushing weight on your chest eased just enough for you to take a full breath. You nodded again, your hand squeezing his as you leaned back against the seat.

For now, you didn’t need all the answers. For now, it was enough to know that you weren’t alone.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing you recalled was the rhythmic hum of the car’s engine, a soothing lullaby against the backdrop of a long and emotional day. Now, you woke to the soft crunch of gravel beneath tires, and the faint thud of a door shutting pulled you fully back to consciousness. Blinking groggily, you rubbed your eyes, the world outside the window coming into focus—or not. Darkness enveloped everything, the trees standing like silent sentinels against the faint glow of the moon.

The realization hit you quickly: this wasn’t home. Your heart skipped a beat as unease crept in, sharp and unwelcome. Before you could dwell on it, the passenger door opened, and cool night air rushed in. Xavier leaned into view, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the car’s overhead light. His expression was calm, reassuring, but you couldn’t ignore the flutter of anxiety in your chest.

“Where are we?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep. Your fingers curled around the seatbelt instinctively, holding you in place.

Xavier offered his hand, waiting patiently for you to take it. “Someplace safe,” he said simply. When you didn’t immediately move, he crouched slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “I know this is sudden, but I need you to trust me. It’s too dangerous to go back to the apartment right now. He knows where we live.”

The mention of Sylus sent a shiver down your spine. Logic told you Xavier was right, but fear still gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. Hesitantly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and allowed him to help you out of the car. The ground was uneven beneath your feet, the faint crunch of dirt and leaves the only sound as you stood there, blinking into the darkness.

“I thought we’d go back to your place,” you murmured, your voice wavering. Your gaze flickered around nervously, trying to take in your surroundings, but the dense forest offered no clues. “Why…why here?”

Xavier’s hand tightened around yours, his warmth grounding you. “I know it’s a lot,” he admitted, his tone gentle. “But I needed to bring you somewhere Sylus wouldn’t think to look. This cabin—it’s not much, but it’s off the radar. Trust me, it’s safer.”

Despite his reassurances, unease still prickled at the edges of your mind. You weren’t sure if it was the unfamiliar surroundings, the memories of Sylus’s threats, or the sheer exhaustion weighing on your body, but something about the situation left you unsettled. Still, you nodded, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. Xavier wouldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t put you in danger.

“Come on,” he said softly, tugging your hand. “It’s not far.”

The walk to the cabin was short, but every step felt like a battle. Your feet ached fiercely, the swelling from the pregnancy making each movement a painful reminder of your body’s limits. By the time the faint outline of the cabin came into view, a soft grunt of pain escaped your lips, and you winced, trying to mask it. Xavier stopped abruptly, turning to face you.

“You okay?” he asked, his brows knitting together in concern. His gaze dropped to your feet, his expression softening when he noticed your discomfort.

“It’s just a pregnancy thing,” you muttered, embarrassed. “My feet… they’re swollen. And they hurt.”

Xavier frowned, his concern deepening. “We should’ve stopped sooner. I’ll see if I have anything at the cabin to help with that.” His voice carried a mix of determination and regret, as if he felt guilty for not noticing sooner.

You nodded, grateful for his thoughtfulness but unable to shake the wave of shame that washed over you. He was doing so much already—too much. This wasn’t his responsibility, no matter how much he claimed to care. As he guided you the last few steps to the cabin, you couldn’t help but wonder if he really meant what he’d said earlier about the baby. Did he truly believe what he’d said, or had it been an attempt to comfort you in the moment?

The cabin was modest, its wooden beams gleaming faintly in the moonlight. When Xavier pushed open the door, the soft golden glow of the interior lights spilled out, revealing a small but cozy space. There was no clutter, no decorations—just a bed, a wood-burning stove, and a small kitchen tucked into one corner. It was practical, not personal, and the emptiness made your chest tighten.

“Sit down,” Xavier said, his tone gentle but firm as he guided you to the bed. “I’ll get some water and find something for your feet.”

You sank into the mattress, relief washing over you as the pressure on your swollen feet eased. As Xavier moved around the cabin, his actions quick and purposeful, you watched him, your emotions a tangled mess of gratitude and guilt. He shouldn’t have to take care of you like this. He had no obligation—not to you, and certainly not to the baby.

When he returned, he knelt in front of you, setting down a bowl of warm water and a clean towel. “It’s not much,” he said, his voice apologetic, “but it should help.”

You stared at the bowl for a moment, your throat tightening. His kindness was overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, the question you’d been holding back tumbled out.

“Do you really mean it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Xavier paused, his hands stilling over the bowl. He looked up at you, his blue eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Mean what?” he asked softly, his tone careful.

“What you said earlier. About the baby,” you clarified, your voice trembling. “That it doesn’t matter to you…that she’s part of me, and that’s all you need.”

His expression softened, and he reached out, taking your hand in his. “I meant it,” he said, his voice steady. “That doesn’t mean this isn’t a lot to take in. It is. And I won’t pretend otherwise.” He paused, his gaze searching yours. “But none of that changes how I feel about you. Or how much I want to be here for you—whatever you decide.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words sank in, wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace. “Whatever I decide?” you echoed, your voice breaking.

Xavier nodded, his thumb brushing gentle circles over your knuckles. “If you want to keep her, I’ll be here for you both. If you decide adoption is the right choice, I’ll support you. This is your decision. Your future. But whatever you choose, I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears came freely again as the weight of his words settled over you. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. If anything, his grip on your hand tightened, his presence grounding you in a way nothing else could. He truly was the man you loved and continued to be despite everything.

Your stomach rumbled loudly, the sound startling in the quiet cabin. It was as if your body had finally caught up with everything else, demanding attention you didn’t feel ready to give. You let out a nervous laugh, instinctively placing a hand over your belly as another tiny kick pressed against your palm. Your daughter was restless, rolling and kicking as if in protest.

“I guess we’re both starving,” you said softly, your voice carrying an edge of self-consciousness.

Xavier glanced towards the small kitchen area, his face softening. “There’s some canned food in the cupboard,” he said, already moving and pulling open one of the creaky wooden doors. “I’ll cook something for you. It won’t be fancy, but it’ll do.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, though the words felt small in comparison to what he was doing for you. As you watched him move around the kitchen, his slightly broad shoulders slightly hunched in concentration, guilt gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. He was doing so much for you—for both of you. And yet, no matter how much he reassured you, that persistent question lingered: how long could this last? How long until it became too much for him?

You shifted on the bed, your hand still resting on your belly as your daughter continued her acrobatics. Your thoughts spiraled, each one more overwhelming than the last. What were you going to do? The question haunted you, clawing at the edges of your mind. Once Sylus was no longer a threat, you’d still have to make a decision about the baby.

Would it be better to give her up? The thought made your chest tighten painfully, but it felt like the only logical choice. If you kept her, Sylus would find her. He always found a way. But giving her up didn’t guarantee safety either. What if she ended up closer to his reach, easier for him to manipulate and control? Your head swam with possibilities, each one more suffocating than the last. You closed your eyes, willing the torrent of thoughts to stop, but it was like trying to hold back a flood.

“Xavier…” you began hesitantly, your voice barely audible over the faint sizzle of something on the stove. He turned slightly, his head tilting to show he was listening, but his hands didn’t stop moving as he stirred a pot. “Shouldn’t we go to Captain Jenna? The police? I mean…I’m technically still missing, aren’t I?”

Xavier stilled for a moment, the rhythm of his stirring coming to an abrupt halt. The tension in his shoulders was subtle, but it was enough to make your stomach churn with unease. Slowly, he resumed stirring, his back still to you. “You’re not legally missing,” he said finally, his voice careful. “Sylus made sure of that.”

Your breath hitched, your heart sinking. “What do you mean?” you asked, though you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer.

Xavier turned down the heat on the stove, his movements deliberate as he picked up a plate and began serving the food. “He made me spin a story,” Xavier explained, his tone clipped. “According to me, you announced that you were leaving the country. Made it seem like a planned move.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, leaving you momentarily breathless. Of course Sylus had thought of everything. He always did. Every possible angle, every potential loose end—he’d tied them all up neatly in a web of lies. “What?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But…that doesn’t mean we can’t tell someone what really happened, right?”

Xavier didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he poured the steaming vegetables from the pot onto the plate, the vibrant mix of greens, oranges, and yellows standing out against the plain white dish. He carried it over to the small coffee table in front of you, setting it down gently. The aroma of cooked pork and seasoned vegetables filled the air, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were fixed on him, searching for some kind of reassurance.

“It’s best not to get anyone else involved,” he said finally, sitting down across from you. His voice was measured, careful, but there was an underlying tension that made your stomach twist. “Sylus is dangerous. The people you’re thinking of going to—Captain Jenna, the police—they can’t protect you from someone like him.”

“But—” you began, desperation creeping into your voice.

“Besides,” he cut in gently but firmly, his gaze meeting yours, “you’re pregnant. If we try to explain this now, all it’s going to look like is you ran off for a fling. That’s how Sylus has framed it, and it’s the story people will believe.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and inescapable. You wanted to argue, to shout that it wasn’t fair, but the truth of what he was saying kept your protests lodged in your throat. Sylus’s lies were insidious, and the world was all too quick to believe the worst about people. Even if you tried to explain, who would believe you?

Xavier leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched you. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” he said softly. “And I know it’s not fair. But the most important thing right now is keeping you and the baby safe. That’s all that matters. Once I can secure a better place for you, I'll move you both out from this cabin.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill. “I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I keep thinking about the baby… about what’s best for her. I don’t even know if keeping her is the right choice. But giving her up…what if that puts her in even more danger?”

Xavier’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand covering yours. His touch was warm, grounding, but it didn’t erase the storm raging inside you. “I don’t have all the answers,” he said honestly. “This is your decision. And it’s not an easy one. But whatever you choose—whether you keep her or give her up—I’ll be here to help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“How can you say that?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “She’s not even yours.”

Xavier didn’t flinch. His grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing small, soothing circles over your knuckles. “I know,” he said simply, his voice steady. “But regardless, I love you. If you keep her, I want to be involved with everything to do with you."

The sincerity in his voice left you breathless, your chest aching with a mixture of gratitude and overwhelming emotion. The enormity of everything still loomed over you, but Xavier’s words felt like a lifeline, anchoring you to something solid amidst the chaos.

You nodded slowly, wiping at your eyes as you reached for the fork. The first bite of food was warm and comforting, easing some of the tension in your chest. It was nothing compared to the lavish meals Sylus would feed you, but for the first time in a long time the food was truly delicious. Xavier watched you silently, his presence steady and unyielding. The crushing weight of fear and uncertainty seemed to lift—if only just enough to breathe.

Tomorrow would bring more questions, more decisions. But for tonight, Xavier’s quiet support was enough to keep the darkness at bay.

The hours stretched on, the crackle of the wood-burning stove providing a soothing backdrop as you and Xavier talked. At first, it was about the kidnapping, the things you had endured, and the horrifying grip Sylus had over your life. Xavier was angered to learn Sylus had physically cut out your birth control himself. And you were saddened to learn you no longer had an apartment. But as the tension began to ease, the conversation shifted. Xavier told you about what he’d gone through to find you, the lengths he’d gone to prepare for what felt like an impossible rescue. Every word felt surreal.

“So… you’re part Polar Wyrm now?” you asked, your tone incredulous.

Xavier nodded, leaning back a bit, his broad shoulders catching the warm glow of the stove’s firelight. His lips quirked into a half-smile, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah. It’s…complicated. I didn’t have a choice, not if I wanted to be strong enough to face him again. I thought—” He paused, his blue eyes flickering with something unspoken. “I thought it would give me a better chance to bring you back.”

You stared at him, trying to process the enormity of what he had done. Polar Wyrms were no ordinary Wanderers—powerful, ancient, and dangerous. To think Xavier had willingly taken on that kind of burden for you made your chest ache with a mix of gratitude and guilt.

“I didn’t ask you to do that…” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

His eyes softened as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You didn’t have to,” he said quietly. “I would’ve done anything to find you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “I’m sorry,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time that night. The words tumbled out of you in a rush, fueled by the weight of everything you’d been carrying. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger—”

“Stop.” His voice was gentle but firm, cutting through your apologies. He reached out and placed a hand over yours, his touch warm and grounding. “You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this was your fault.”

You nodded hesitantly, though the guilt still lingered, a heavy presence in your chest. It wasn’t something that would go away overnight.

Eventually, the conversation turned lighter. For the first time in what felt like forever, you caught glimpses of the man you missed and dreamed of, the one who could make you laugh, who made the world feel less daunting. When he brought up baby names, it caught you off guard.

“I always thought that if I had a daughter, I’d name her Evia,” he said, his voice thoughtful. He leaned back, his gaze distant as if imagining the life he once thought he might have. “It means ‘life’ or ‘to live’ in Hebrew.”

You were lying on the bed by then, exhaustion tugging at your body despite the lively energy of your daughter, who seemed intent on keeping you awake with her constant movements. Your fingers traced idle patterns over your belly as you considered the name.

“Evia,” you repeated, the sound delicate and full of promise. “It’s such a pretty name.”

The idea stirred something inside you—a flicker of hope, fragile but persistent. Could this be a fresh start? If you named her something Xavier had chosen instead of something Sylus would have controlled, it might mark the beginning of a new chapter. A life where you weren’t constantly looking over your shoulder, where your daughter could grow up without fear.

Xavier must have sensed the shift in your mood because he gave you a small smile, the kind that lit up his face and reminded you of how much you had missed him. “Of course, if you wanted something different, it’s your choice,” he added quickly, his tone light but sincere.

Your heart fluttered at his words, at the way he seemed to effortlessly put you first, even now. How you’d missed that smile. His voice. His eyes. This wasn’t just love—it was something deeper. Something that had endured pain, separation, and fear, only to emerge stronger.

“Xavier…” you whispered, his name barely more than a breath as it passed your lips. It felt strange to say it now, after all this time, after everything that had happened. Yet it grounded you, tethering you to the moment as you turned toward him on the bed.

He was kneeling beside you, his arms resting on the edge of the mattress. The warm light of the fire danced across his face, casting shadows that made his features seem sharper, more defined. But his eyes…they were soft, steady, filled with something that made your chest tighten and your pulse quicken.

He tilted his head slightly, a quiet hum of acknowledgment escaping his throat. His blue eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat, before lifting back to meet your gaze. The unspoken question in his expression sent a shiver through you.

Your heart pounded, the sound of it filling your ears as if it were echoing in the quiet cabin. The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, subtle but enough to make you hyperaware of just how close he was. You could see the faint line of eyebags on his face, the way his lips parted slightly as though he wanted to speak but didn’t.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The space between you felt electric, charged with an intensity that made the air in the room seem heavier. Your stomach fluttered—not with the restless movements of your daughter, but with something else. Something thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned forward. The fabric of the bed shifted beneath you, and your hand pressed against the mattress for balance as you closed the distance between you. Xavier mirrored your movement, his posture rigid at first but softening as he leaned closer. His eyes never left yours, flickering with emotions you couldn’t quite name but felt in your core.

You could feel the heat radiating from him now, could see the way his chest rose and fell with slightly uneven breaths. The faint scent of him—something clean, with a hint of the woods—filled your senses, making your head spin. Your lips were so close you could almost feel them brush against his, the space between you impossibly narrow.

His hand moved, hesitating for a moment before coming to rest lightly against your jaw. His touch was warm, his thumb barely grazing your skin as though he were afraid you might pull away. The gentle pressure made your breath catch, your eyes fluttering shut as the anticipation built to a dizzying crescendo.

And then the doubt crept in.

Your eyes snapped open, and you pulled back slightly, your chest tightening with the weight of your insecurities. How could you let yourself get lost in this moment when everything about you had changed? You were pregnant. Your body wasn’t the same, marked and reshaped by the life growing inside you and the things you had been through. How could he still want you like this?

“Never mind,” you muttered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You started to lean back, but Xavier’s hand moved quickly, capturing your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. His thumb brushed over the delicate skin of your wrist as he held you in place, his touch both grounding and electrifying.

His free hand lifted to your cheek, tilting your face back toward him. The way he looked at you made your heart skip—an unguarded, almost raw expression of longing and determination. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The words trembled with vulnerability, as though he wasn’t certain you’d say yes.

Your lips parted in surprise, your pulse racing as you searched his face for any hint of doubt. There was none. His eyes were locked on yours, unwavering, filled with a quiet intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“You still...want to do that?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Even if I’m like this?”

His brows furrowed slightly, as though he couldn’t understand why you would even question it. “Always,” he said simply, his voice steady and sure.

The sincerity in his tone sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you. Your chest ached, your breath hitching as you realized just how much you had missed him—his touch, his presence, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

Slowly, you leaned in again, your movements tentative at first but growing bolder as you closed the distance between you. Xavier met you halfway, his hand still cradling your face as his thumb traced a slow, soothing circle against your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered shut again, and you tilted your head slightly, your lips just a breath away from his. You could feel the faintest brush of his mouth against yours, featherlight and tantalizing, and your heart leapt in anticipation.

And then, a sharp, piercing “CAW!” shattered the moment.

Your eyes flew open, your head snapping toward the window. Outside, silhouetted against the moonlight, was the unmistakable shape of a crow. Its black feathers gleamed in the dim light, and it perched on a gnarled branch just outside the cabin.

“No…” you breathed, the sound barely audible as a chill ran down your spine. The crow let out another sharp cry, its beady eyes fixed on the cabin, unblinking.

“Mephisto...” you said, the name tumbling from your lips in disbelief as you sat up abruptly, your heart racing.

Xavier frowned, his hand still on your wrist as he followed your gaze to the window. “Who’s Mephisto?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.

Your mind raced, a storm of thoughts and memories flooding in all at once. Mephisto wasn’t just a crow. He was Sylus’s crow. A creature bound to him in ways you still couldn’t fully understand, serving as his eyes, his ears, his shadow.

If Mephisto was here, it could only mean one thing.

“We have to go,” you said urgently, your voice trembling. “Now.”

Xavier didn’t question you. His expression hardened, his movements quick and efficient as he rose to his feet and grabbed the car keys. The easy, tender atmosphere of moments ago was gone, replaced by a tension so thick it was suffocating. You couldn't go back. You had just gotten a small taste of true freedom again and he was coming to rip it all away.

As you scrambled to your feet, your hand instinctively went to your belly, your daughter’s frantic movements mirroring the fear coursing through you. You cast one last glance at the window, but the branch was empty now.

Mephisto was gone.

The urgency was palpable as you and Xavier bolted toward the car, your heart hammering against your ribs. The cabin, once a sanctuary, now felt like a trap. Every sound—the snap of a twig, the rustling of leaves—set your nerves on edge, each one magnified by the oppressive darkness surrounding you.

“Come on,” Xavier urged, his voice low but firm as his hand closed around yours, pulling you along the uneven path.

Your swollen belly made it hard to keep up, each step sending a jolt of discomfort through your body. The terrain seemed to conspire against you—rocks and roots threatened to trip you, the soft soil beneath your feet feeling like it was pulling you down. Your breaths came in shallow pants, and your free hand pressed against your abdomen as though to steady the restless movements of your daughter within.

“I…I can’t run like this,” you panted, your voice shaky with fear and exertion.

Xavier slowed immediately, his grip on your hand tightening as he wrapped his other arm around your back to steady you. “I’ve got you,” he said, his voice softening despite the tension etched across his face. He guided you forward, his movements careful yet urgent. “We’re almost there.”

The car came into view, its dark shape barely discernible against the shadows of the forest. Relief surged through you, momentarily easing the tightness in your chest. The two of you reached the vehicle, and Xavier opened the passenger door in one swift motion, helping you inside.

“Lock it,” he said firmly, his blue eyes meeting yours through the glass before he hurried to the driver’s side.

With shaky hands, you reached for the lock, the click of it sliding into place offering a fleeting sense of security. The cabin lights dimmed as Xavier climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. The engine roared to life, and for a moment, your pounding heart began to slow.

But the moment shattered as the car lurched forward an inch before stopping abruptly, the tires spinning uselessly against the ground. The engine growled in protest, but the vehicle refused to budge.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice trembling as dread crept back in.

Xavier’s brow furrowed as he shifted the car into park and back to drive, trying again. The tires spun helplessly, the grinding sound sending a chill down your spine. He muttered a curse under his breath, slamming the gearshift back into park as the car remained stationary.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice tense. “Stay here. I’m going to check it out.”

Panic surged through you as he stepped out of the car, the chill of the night air rushing in before he shut the door. You watched as he crouched near the front tire, his movements quick and precise. Every second felt like an eternity as you sat there, clutching your belly protectively, your daughter’s frantic movements adding to your unease.

When Xavier finally returned, the grim set of his jaw sent a fresh wave of fear through you. He climbed back into the driver’s seat and closed the door firmly, exhaling through his nose as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Don’t panic,” he began, though his tone did little to reassure you. He turned to you, his blue eyes steady but shadowed with tension. “The tires are all slashed.”

The blood drained from your face. Your stomach churned as the implications sank in. You didn’t need to ask who had done it; the answer came to you instantly, chilling and absolute. “It was them,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “The twins.”

Xavier’s jaw tightened at your words, his eyes narrowing. “The twins?” he repeated, his voice sharp with concern. “Who are they?”

“Sylus’s henchmen,” you explained quickly, your words tumbling out in a rush. “They’re basically his…his shadows. If Mephisto was here, then they can’t be far behind. They always work together.”

Xavier’s lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze flickered toward the dark forest outside. The air in the car felt suffocating now, thick with the weight of unspoken fears. “So they were watching us this whole time,” he said grimly, his tone more a statement than a question.

You nodded, your hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the seat. “They had to have been. They’re not just criminals—they’re smart. Calculated. If they wanted us stuck here, then—”

“Then this was planned,” Xavier finished, his expression hardening. He rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers briefly tugging at his hair before dropping to his lap. “Damn it.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the reality of the situation pressing down on you. The car was useless now, and the forest outside felt more menacing than ever. Every shadow seemed to shift, every sound amplified as though the trees themselves were conspiring to hide your pursuers.

“What do we do now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The fear in your chest felt suffocating, your breaths shallow and uneven.

Xavier’s gaze snapped back to you, his expression softening slightly. “We’ll figure something out,” he said firmly. “But first, we need to stay calm.”

The sound of a branch snapping in the distance made you flinch, your heart leaping into your throat. Xavier’s head snapped toward the noise, his body tensing as his hand instinctively went to the knife strapped to his belt.

“They’re out there,” you said, your voice trembling. “Aren’t they?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the darkness outside the window. His posture was rigid, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring. “Maybe,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “But if they wanted to come in guns blazing, they would’ve done it already. They’re waiting.”

“For what?” you asked, though you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer.

Xavier shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “For us to panic. To make a mistake.” His hand moved to yours, covering it with a gentle but firm grip. “Listen to me. I won’t let them take you and the baby. Do you understand?”

You nodded, though the fear in your chest didn’t subside. Your mind raced, every scenario more terrifying than the last. The car was no longer an option, and the cabin behind you suddenly felt like the least safe place in the world.

Another sound echoed through the forest—a low, distant rustling that sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through you. Xavier’s hand tightened around yours as his gaze snapped back to the window.

“We need to move,” he said, his voice firm. “But not yet. We’ll wait until the timing is right. They’re trying to force us into running blindly. We won’t give them that.”

The seconds stretched into minutes as the two of you sat there, waiting, the oppressive silence broken only by the sound of your unsteady breathing and the faint rustle of leaves outside. Your daughter stirred again, her movements frantic, as if she could sense the danger surrounding you.

You pressed a hand to your belly, whispering a silent promise to her: you would find a way out of this. That neither of you would have to go back.

The forest was quiet, the kind of quiet that thrummed with anticipation. Sylus stood at the edge of the clearing, his sharp eyes fixed on the distant glow of the cabin windows. The cool night air brushed against his face, but it did little to soothe the fire raging beneath his calm exterior. His hands, gloved in soft leather, clenched and relaxed rhythmically as he waited.

Mephisto broke the silence, swooping down from the shadows above and landing neatly on Sylus’s shoulder. The crow’s claws dug lightly into the leather, but Sylus didn’t flinch. Instead, his lips curled into a faint smirk as his mind reached out to the familiar connection, letting the images Mephisto had captured flood his vision.

What he saw made the smirk vanish instantly, replaced by a cold, volatile fury.

There you were—his woman, his fiancé—lying on a bed, your face lit with an expression of vulnerability and longing that twisted something deep in his chest. And then there was Xavier, that thorn in his side, that meddling pest, kneeling beside you. Xavier leaned in close, his face hovering near yours, your breaths mingling in a way that made Sylus’s blood boil.

The calm he had maintained so carefully shattered, his pulse pounding in his ears as the next images unfolded. Xavier’s hand brushed against your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours with a tenderness that made Sylus want to rip him apart. Then, you leaned in, your lips parting slightly as if to meet Xavier halfway.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Sylus as he clenched his jaw tightly. How dare he? How dare that pathetic little knight touch you, try to kiss you, as if you weren't already marked by another man’s seed? His seed. You carried his child and yet Xavier had the audacity to act as though he still had any claim to you? The very thought made Sylus’s hands curl into fists, his nails digging into his palms beneath the leather gloves.

The next moments in Mephisto’s broadcast showed the two of you scrambling to your feet, startled by the crow’s sudden cry. Your panic was clear, your hand instinctively going to your belly. Sylus’s chest tightened at the sight, a twisted mixture of anger and possessiveness flooding his veins. Even in your fear, you looked radiant. Fragile, yes, but his.

A voice crackled in his ear, snapping him back to the present. “Boss,” came the low, gravelly voice of Luke, one of the twins. “Tires have been slashed already. They’re sitting in the car, looking pretty spooked. Let us know when you want us to move in.”

Sylus closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting out a slow exhale. He rolled his shoulders, his jaw tightening as he composed himself. When he opened his eyes again, they were steely, his expression hard yet laced with a faint, unsettling smirk.

“Don’t do anything rash before I get there,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “He’s mine for the kill.”

Luke’s voice came back immediately. “Understood.”

Sylus allowed himself a moment to flip a coin absentmindedly, his mind racing with plans. Every fiber of his being demanded action, demanded that he tear Xavier limb from limb for daring to touch what was his. But he wasn’t a man who acted without precision. No, Xavier would pay, but it would be on Sylus’s terms. And you…you would see that no one could love you the way he did. No one could protect you, provide for you, the way he could.

His gaze flicked toward the cabin again, his expression softening just slightly as he thought of you. You had been his obsession, his guiding star, for far too long. The thought of you with another man—especially one as undeserving as Xavier—was unbearable. It made his blood seethe, his mind cloud with thoughts of retribution. But beneath it all, his love for you burned brighter than his anger.

“She’ll understand,” he murmured to himself, his voice low and reverent. “Once that pest is gone, she’ll see it was always meant to be me.”

Mephisto cawed softly, tilting his head as if to mirror Sylus’s thoughts.

“Let’s move,” he murmured, his voice low and sharp, carrying the weight of his resolve. His fingers brushed over Mephisto’s feathers as his lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. “It’s time to bring her back where she belongs.”

With one last glance toward the cabin, Sylus turned and disappeared into the shadows. His movements were precise, deliberate, like a predator closing in on its quarry. Tonight, he would end this charade. Xavier’s interference would be silenced for good, and you would finally see—you had always been his.

Sylus materialized in the clearing with a flash of red mist, the energy dissipating into the night as quickly as it had appeared. He stood among the trees, his presence shrouded in shadow, but his vantage point offered a clear view of the car and the unfolding scene. The twins had closed in, their movements deliberate, like wolves circling prey. Xavier, bold as ever, had stepped out of the car, his posture taut with readiness.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. Bold choice, Xavier. He leaned casually against a tree, his arms folded as he watched, curiosity piqued. This could prove entertaining.

“Long time no see, my old friend!” Kieran called out, his voice carrying a mockery that grated against the stillness of the night. He stepped closer, his confident strides deliberate, rife with mischief.

Xavier’s entire body went rigid, his arm snapping out as if on instinct. In a flash of shimmering light, a massive blue sword appeared in his hands, its surface glowing with a brilliance that contrasted sharply against the night. He held it out in front of him, its weight steady in his grip, the tip pointed menacingly at Kieran.

Sylus tilted his head, his smirk widening. So, Dr. Merill wasn’t kidding. The bastard really is working with EVER. His eyes flicked to the weapon in Xavier’s hands, taking in its construction and energy signature. Impressive. But not enough. He chuckled quietly to himself, staying hidden among the shadows.

“Get back if you know what’s good for you,” Xavier warned, his voice low and edged with fury. His glare was sharp enough to cut, but Kieran seemed unfazed.

“Woah, woah, calm down,” Luke interjected, his hands raised in mock surrender as he approached from the other side. “We’re not here for you. Just picking up what belongs to the boss.”

Luke gestured lazily toward the car, his grin widening. “If you just let her go, we’ll all get out of here unscathed. Well,” he added with a shrug, “she will either way. But you know what I mean.”

The tension snapped like a coiled spring as Xavier lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Luke narrowly dodged the strike, his reflexes sharp, but not sharp enough to escape unscathed. A thin piece of his hood fluttered to the ground, the fabric severed by the glowing blade. Luke glanced at it, then laughed, the sound rough and full of derision.

“Woah, you actually managed a hit this time!” he said, his demeanor twisting into something darker. “Time to get serious then, eh?”

The fight erupted in a blur of motion.

Xavier pressed the attack, his blade a streak of blue light as it arced through the air. Luke countered, twisting and dodging with practiced ease, his movements fluid as water. Kieran joined the fray, his twin daggers gleaming wickedly as he darted in and out, testing Xavier’s defenses. The two moved in perfect synchronization, their coordination seamless, but Xavier held his ground, his blade a glowing barrier that kept them at bay.

Sylus watched with mild interest, his gaze shifting between the clashing figures. Every strike, every dodge, was a calculated move, and yet…his focus drifted.

His eyes found you in the passenger seat of the car, your face fear stricken and drawn, your hands trembling as they clutched your belly. Even from this distance, he could see the anxiety etched into your features, the way your shoulders shook with barely contained sobs. His chest tightened, a pang of something tender cutting through his fury. Poor thing. Terrified. This isn’t good for your heart-or the baby’s.

How he longed to end this now, to sweep you into his arms and whisk you far away from all of this chaos. To hold you, to remind you that you were his, that you were safe as long as you were in his arms. But it wasn’t the time. Not yet.

A flash of blue light snapped his attention back to the fight. Xavier had unleashed a wave of energy from his blade, the force slamming into the ground and sending a shockwave through the clearing. The twins scattered, their footing faltering for a moment before they regained their composure.

Kieran darted back in, his daggers flashing as he aimed for Xavier’s flank. Xavier pivoted, his sword meeting the strike with a deafening clash of steel. Luke moved in from the other side, his strikes precise and unrelenting. The three danced a deadly rhythm, the clash of their weapons ringing through the night.

And then it happened.

Xavier unleashed another wave of blue energy, this one larger, more unstable. The force of it shattered the window on the passenger side of the car, sending shards of glass raining down. Your scream pierced the air, high and raw, the sound cutting through the chaos like a knife.

Sylus’s composure shattered.

His eyes locked onto the broken window, his breath catching as he saw you huddled inside, your arms wrapped protectively around your belly. Fear radiated from you, palpable even at a distance. The sight made his blood run hot, his fury igniting into something all-consuming.

“Enough,” he growled, the word barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

In a blur of his Evol, Sylus stepped forward, emerging from the shadows with deadly intent. The twins faltered for a moment, sensing his presence before they saw him. Xavier froze, his glowing blade still raised, as Sylus appeared at the edge of the clearing.

“This ends now,” Sylus said, his voice low and sharp, each word dripping with authority. His eyes burned with a mix of fury and possession as they fixed on Xavier. “Step away from her, or I’ll make you regret ever coming near what’s mine.”

The clearing fell into an uneasy silence, the tension crackling like a storm ready to break.

Sylus had entered the fray, and there would be no escape.

"Ah, look, the man of the hour," Xavier said through clenched teeth, his voice laced with venom. But his gaze wasn’t on Sylus. It wasn’t on the twins, who had stepped back to watch the show unfold. No, his focus was entirely on you, huddled in the passenger seat of the car, your body shaking as sobs wracked through you.

Sylus followed his line of sight, his own jaw tightening as he took in the scene. You were crying—crying because of him, because of this idiot who had dragged you into a situation you were never meant to endure. His vision blurred with rage, and his hand clenched at his side, crimson energy crackling around his fingers. How dare he look at you. How dare he make you cry.

Your tears belonged to him and him only.

“Eyes on me, Xavier,” Sylus growled, his voice low and cold. Without waiting for a response, he sent a sharp burst of red energy hurtling toward him.

Xavier moved quickly, throwing himself to the side just as the energy blasted through the space where he had been standing. The ground shook from the impact, a cloud of dirt and debris rising into the air, but Xavier recovered almost immediately, his glowing sword at the ready.

“You missed,” Xavier taunted, though the strain in his voice betrayed his nerves.

Sylus smirked darkly. “Never twice.”

The second wave of crimson energy struck true, slamming into Xavier’s chest and sending him hurtling backward. He crashed into a tree with a sickening thud, the bark splintering under the force. The impact was enough to send a gasp of pain from Xavier, but to Sylus’s annoyance, the man was already on his feet again, the blue glow of his sword flaring brighter.

“Persistent as ever,” Sylus muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. "Should I break the rest of the bones in your body?"

Xavier didn’t waste words. With a determined cry, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. Sylus sidestepped effortlessly, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re still not enough,” Sylus said, his voice calm, almost bored. He ducked beneath another swing, his movements fluid and precise, like a predator toying with its prey. “Not for me. And certainly not for her.”

The jab hit its mark. Xavier’s face twisted with anger, and he pressed the attack, his strikes coming faster, harder, each one designed to break through Sylus’s seemingly impenetrable defenses. But Sylus was faster. He weaved through the onslaught with practiced ease, his body moving with an unnatural grace that made it seem as though he were barely trying.

“You really thought this would end differently?” Sylus sneered, blocking a particularly aggressive strike with a burst of red energy that sent Xavier staggering back. “After everything you’ve seen, everything you know about me, you still thought you could win?”

“I don’t need to win,” Xavier spat, his chest heaving as he steadied his grip on the sword. “I just need to buy enough time to get her away from you.”

Sylus’s smirk vanished, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Get her away from me?” His voice was low, deadly quiet. “You mean my woman. The mother of my child.” He advanced on Xavier, his crimson energy pulsing with every step. “You think you have any claim to her? That you can just erase the mark I’ve left on her body, her soul?”

Xavier lunged again, this time aiming for Sylus’s side, but Sylus deflected the blow effortlessly, the clash of energy and steel ringing out like thunder. Their fight became a blur of movement—Xavier’s sword glowing brilliantly as it carved through the night air, Sylus’s crimson bursts lighting up the clearing like flashes of lightning.

“You’ve always been a pest, Xavier,” Sylus taunted as he dodged another strike, his tone dripping with mockery. “An irritating, self-righteous thorn in my side. But now?” He parried with a burst of red energy that sent Xavier skidding backward. “Now you’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“Better than being a monster,” Xavier shot back, his voice filled with defiance. “She deserves better than you.”

Sylus laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Better than me? Let me make one thing clear—there is no better than me. You’re a cheap imitation of a savior, playing hero while I’ve given her everything. Protection. Security. A future.” His eyes gleamed with malice. “And let’s not forget who put that life inside of her.”

The words struck a nerve. Xavier roared in fury, his blade flaring brighter than ever as he charged forward. Sylus met him head-on, their energies colliding in a dazzling explosion of red and blue energy. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the clearing, the ground trembling beneath their feet.

The fight reached a fever pitch, each strike more desperate, more vicious than the last. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, their bodies moving on instinct as they sought the final blow. Sylus’s crimson energy swirled around him like a storm, each burst pushing Xavier closer to his limit. But Xavier held his ground, his sword a beacon of determination as it clashed against Sylus’s unrelenting power.

And then, just as they both prepared to strike again, a scream tore through the night.

“Stop! Stop! I love him!”

The sound froze them both in place. Xavier’s sword wavered, the light flickering as his gaze snapped toward the car. Sylus’s red energy dimmed, his breath catching as he turned to face you.

You were standing outside the car now, your body trembling as tears streamed down your face. Your hands were pressed protectively against your belly, your voice cracking with desperation as you continued, “I love him. Please, stop this.”

The clearing fell silent, save for the sound of your sobs. Sylus’s chest tightened as he stared at you, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, confusion, jealousy—all of it warred with the ache in his chest at the sight of you so distraught.

“She doesn’t mean you,” Xavier said, his voice quiet but filled with a quiet certainty. His sword lowered slightly, but the fire in his eyes remained.

"Please," you sobbed, your voice breaking with raw emotion. "I love him."

Your tear-stricken face was illuminated by the faint glow of the shattered car window, your trembling figure standing between the two men like a fragile barrier. Sylus’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second as he looked at you, his crimson energy dimming completely. For a moment, he seemed to falter, his lips parting as if to speak.

But before he could say a word, you closed the distance between you, your movements shaky yet determined. Your hands rose, cupping his face as your lips pressed against his in a desperate, trembling kiss.

Sylus froze, his entire body stiffening in shock. His hands hovered uncertainly at your sides, his breath catching at the unexpected intimacy. The warmth of your touch, the softness of your lips, overwhelmed him, sending a jolt of emotion coursing through him. Slowly, he began to relax, his arms coming around you tentatively at first, then tightening as if he were afraid to let go.

The world seemed to vanish around you both, the tension of the fight dissolving into nothingness. For a fleeting moment, there was no Xavier, no fight, no fear—just the two of you. Sylus’s eyes fluttered shut, his grip on you firm but reverent, as if he were holding something he had thought lost forever.

When you finally pulled away, your hands lingering against his jaw, Sylus’s eyes opened slowly, searching yours for meaning. His breaths were uneven, his usually sharp features softened by something unguarded, something vulnerable.

But as his gaze shifted, it landed on Xavier.

Xavier stood frozen, his glowing sword lowered but not extinguished, his expression a mask of disbelief. His eyes darted between you and Sylus, the realization of what he had just witnessed spreading across his face like a storm cloud.

Sylus’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, his arms still encircling you as if to stake his claim. But behind the smug satisfaction in his expression was something deeper—a glint of triumph, yes, but also tenderness as his attention returned to you.

For Sylus, this moment was victory enough.

He was going to kill him.

You could see it in Sylus’s relentless movements, the sharp precision of his strikes. Every motion was calculated, each blow aimed to end the fight with finality. You had seen Sylus survive the unimaginable—a gunshot to the heart, wounds that would leave any other man lifeless. He wasn’t just strong; he was unstoppable. And Xavier, despite his determination, was still part human. Mortal. The inevitable loomed before you like a shadow, suffocating and cold.

As you watched them clash, glass crunching beneath their feet and bursts of light illuminating the clearing, you could feel your world spiraling out of control. The thought of Xavier bleeding out, his lifeless body crumpled on the ground while you stood by and did nothing, was unbearable. Your daughter kicked violently within you, as though mirroring the chaos outside. One hand clutched your stomach, trying to soothe her, while the other shook at your side. You had to stop this.

Luke’s voice startled you as he opened the car door. “Miss,” he said, his tone calm and measured, “it’s better if we take you over there. It’s safer.”

His hand reached for your shoulder, firm but not rough, intending to guide you away. The thought of leaving the fight—leaving Xavier—ignited something desperate within you. Without thinking, you jerked away from Luke’s grip, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Miss—hey!” Luke called after you as you stumbled out of the car, but you didn’t stop. Your feet carried you forward, your chest heaving as you approached the fight. The chaos of the battle was deafening—the clash of Sylus’s crimson energy colliding with the brilliant blue glow of Xavier’s sword. The two men were locked in a brutal dance, their movements fast and unrelenting, and you knew there was only one way to stop it.

You drew a deep breath, your voice breaking as you screamed, “Stop! Stop! I love him!”

The words seemed to pierce through the clamor, freezing both men mid-strike. Sylus’s crimson Evol dimmed as he turned to look at you, his expression unreadable, while Xavier’s glowing sword lowered slightly, his face contorting with confusion.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you stumbled closer. “Stop… please don’t hurt him,” you sobbed, your voice cracking. “I love him.”

Their reactions couldn’t have been more different. Sylus’s crimson eyes narrowed, his brows furrowing as though trying to process your words. Xavier, on the other hand, stood frozen, his sword wavering in his hand, the light dimming as his disbelief deepened.

Before Sylus could respond, you closed the distance between you and him, your legs trembling beneath you as you took each step. The weight of what you were about to do crushed you, but there was no other choice. You couldn’t let Xavier die.

You reached up, your hands shaking as you cupped Sylus’s face, and pressed your lips against his.

Sylus froze beneath your touch, his body stiffening in shock. His Evol flickered, dimming entirely as the kiss lingered. Then, slowly, he began to move, his hands coming up to your waist as he leaned into the kiss. His embrace was firm, possessive, pulling you closer as though to confirm what he couldn’t quite believe.

Your stomach churned, your heart splintering into pieces as you allowed it to happen. You didn’t mean it—not any of it—but this was the price you had to pay to keep Xavier alive.

When you finally pulled away, your breath came in ragged gasps, tears streaming down your face. Sylus’s crimson eyes searched yours, his features softening as though he had found something he had been searching for all along. You couldn’t look at him for long. Slowly, reluctantly, you turned toward Xavier.

The sight that met you shattered what was left of your heart.

Xavier stood a few feet away, his sword now lowered completely, the glowing blade extinguished. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breaths uneven as he stared at you. His eyes, usually so strong and full of fire, were wide with disbelief and hurt. A tear slipped down his cheek, catching the faint light, and his lip trembled as he tried—and failed—to speak.

“You’re lying,” he said finally, his voice a strained whisper. His body leaned forward slightly, as though he were about to take a step, but he stopped himself, his fists clenching at his sides. His eyes pleaded with you, searching your face for some sign that this wasn’t real.

You wanted to run to him, to throw your arms around him and tell him the truth. To tell him that it wasn’t real, that it was a lie, that you loved him and only him. But you couldn’t. This was the only way to save him.

“I do,” you said, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “I do mean it. I love Sylus, Xavier. Please, let’s all just stop this now.”

Xavier flinched as though you’d struck him, his entire body trembling. His lips parted, and for a moment, it seemed like he might argue, might demand the truth. But then you continued, your voice trembling as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I’ll go back with you,” you said, turning to Sylus, your tone pleading. “Just don’t kill him. Please. I don’t want anyone to die because of me.”

Sylus’s expression softened instantly, the edges of his fury melting away as he reached up to brush your tears from your cheeks. “You don’t have to cry, honey,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. “I won’t.”

He wrapped his arms around you, his hold firm but comforting. His warmth surrounded you, and you felt yourself crumbling inside. You hated his touch, hated the way your body betrayed you by finding even the smallest sense of safety in his embrace. You hated that this was what you had to do to protect Xavier.

Behind you, a broken voice called your name.

You turned, your heart lurching at the sound, and what you saw next almost brought you to your knees.

Xavier’s face was streaked with tears now, his strong shoulders shaking as he tried to hold himself together. His lips quivered, his eyes full of unspeakable pain as he stared at you, the depth of his betrayal etched into every line of his expression. Another tear fell, rolling down his cheek before dripping to the ground.

You wanted to run to him, to fall to your knees and beg him to understand. But all you could do was watch, trapped in Sylus’s arms, as the man you loved shattered before your eyes.

“I did all of this. For you,” Xavier said, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. He stood frozen, his shoulders tense, his fists trembling at his sides as he stared at you. His words came slowly, as if each one cost him something. “You left with me. You wanted to kiss me too… in the cabin.” His tone grew quieter, almost disbelieving, as though he couldn’t reconcile what had just happened with what he thought you shared. “Are you saying that was all a lie?”

The air seemed to leave your lungs. Each syllable he spoke cut into you, deep and unrelenting, making it harder to breathe. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, your heart screaming no, no, no, but your lips refusing to move.

Xavier’s voice cracked again, barely above a whisper. “Tell me. Was it really a lie?”

Your chest tightened, and you felt your knees threaten to buckle. How could you answer? How could you stand there and tell him the truth when Sylus was mere steps away, watching every move, waiting to retaliate at the slightest provocation? The truth would get Xavier killed, and that was something you couldn’t bear.

You wanted to scream the truth at him, to tell him it wasn’t a lie, that everything in the cabin—the kiss you almost shared, the way you trusted him with your fears—was real. But you couldn’t. You had to protect him. The lie sat like poison on your tongue, burning as it fought to escape.

Finally, trembling, you forced the words out, your voice hollow and shaking. “Yes,” you said, barely audible at first, but then louder, steadier, as though repeating the lie could somehow make it more convincing. “I was just mad at Sylus. I’m sorry.”

The words fell like stones between you, heavy and suffocating. You saw the light in Xavier’s eyes dim as though you’d extinguished it yourself. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his jaw tightening as he fought to process what you’d just said. His gaze locked onto you, his eyes searching desperately for some crack in your resolve, some sign that you didn’t mean it.

But there was nothing you could give him. Your body was frozen, your voice gone, leaving you to stand there in silence as the man you loved broke before you.

Xavier took a step back, his lips parting as though to protest. He looked at you with the same disbelief that had first crossed his face, only now it was mixed with something far more devastating—pain, betrayal, devastation. His voice came again, barely above a whisper. “That wasn’t real to you? Any of it?”

He took another step forward, his hand rising slightly as though he might reach for you, but it faltered in mid-air. “You wanted to kiss me. You stayed with me because you wanted to. Are you saying none of that mattered?”

Your mouth opened, but no sound came. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer. Your heart screamed at you to tell the truth, to let him see what you were truly feeling, but your voice wouldn’t obey. Tears welled in your eyes as your silence stretched on.

Xavier’s hands dropped to his sides, clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He looked as though he wanted to say something more, as if he was still clinging to the hope that you might tell him it was a lie. But before he could, Sylus stepped in front of you, his presence commanding and deliberate.

“You heard the lady,” Sylus said, his voice calm but carrying a dangerous edge. His eyes narrowed as they fixed on Xavier, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. “I’m being merciful because that’s what she wishes.”

Sylus took a step closer, placing himself between you and Xavier completely, his hand brushing against your waist in a possessive gesture that made you flinch. His voice dropped lower, colder, as he added, “But don’t mistake that mercy for weakness. You’d be wise not to test me again.”

Xavier’s eyes snapped to Sylus, blazing with barely contained fury. His body trembled with the effort of holding himself back, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to remain still. But his gaze quickly flicked back to you, the fire in his expression dimming as he took in your tear-streaked face.

“Is this really what you want?” Xavier asked, his voice breaking completely. The question wasn’t for Sylus—it was for you and you alone. His tone was raw, desperate, filled with so much pain that you felt your heart crack under the weight of it.

You wanted to scream no, to tell him this wasn’t what you wanted, that none of this was real. But Sylus’s presence loomed over you, a silent reminder of what was at stake. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak for a moment.

“Yes,” you whispered, the lie barely audible. But it was enough.

Xavier flinched again as though you’d physically struck him, his entire body sagging under the weight of your words. His eyes glistened, tears slipping free despite his best efforts to hold them back. His lips quivered, his hands shaking as he struggled to find something to hold onto—some reason not to believe what he was hearing.

But there was nothing you could give him that wouldn't put him in more danger.

Another tear slid down Xavier’s cheek as he turned his head away, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to contain the sob that threatened to escape. Without another word, he stepped back into the shadows, the faint glow of the fight long gone.

And just like that, the man you loved disappeared into the night, leaving you behind with a man that had changed everything.

You crumbled to your knees, your sobs breaking through the stillness of the night like jagged shards of glass. The weight of the moment bore down on you, crushing your chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. The day you’d spent with Xavier flashed before your eyes—the way he’d smiled at you, held you, made you feel human again, even if just for a fleeting moment. For months, you had known nothing but fear and dread, but with him, you’d felt something you thought you’d lost forever: hope.

And now it was gone.

The realization tore through you, raw and unrelenting. Xavier was gone, his pain etched into your memory, and the hollow ache in your chest was unbearable. All hope of being with him, of building a life together, had vanished. You’d given it up. Given him up. You had to, or Sylus would have killed him. Trying to hold onto him, yearning for him, would be his end.

But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You longed to run after him, to throw yourself into his arms one last time, to bury your face in his chest and tell him the truth. You wanted to see his eyes again—those eyes that had looked at you with such unwavering love—just once more. But your body betrayed you, too heavy with despair to move. You collapsed further onto the ground, clutching your stomach as your daughter kicked violently, her tiny movements only adding to the chaos inside you.

“Shhh,” Sylus’s voice sliced through the haze, low and soothing, dripping with false warmth. “Come now, my love. It’s over."

You felt his arms slide beneath you, lifting you effortlessly from the ground as though you weighed nothing. His touch was gentle, yet his strength was undeniable, a reminder of the control he had over you. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, cradling you against his chest as though you were something precious. “You don’t need to cry anymore.”

You flinched at his touch, disgust curling in your stomach, but your body was too drained to resist. Your sobs turned to quiet gasps as he carried you toward his car, his lips brushing your hair in a mockery of tenderness. The scent of him—warm, sharp, and faintly earthy—made your head swim.

“Lets go home,” he murmured into your ear, his voice a soft hum that made your skin crawl.

The twins followed swiftly behind, their movements efficient as they climbed into the driver and passenger seats. You barely registered them. Everything felt distant, muted, like you were drifting underwater. Sylus placed you carefully into the car, fastening the seatbelt over your trembling form before sliding in beside you. His presence was suffocating, his warmth oppressive as he leaned closer, his eyes fixed on you.

“Say it again,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking through the fog in your mind.

You blinked, your tear-streaked face tilting toward him in confusion. “Wh-what?” you stammered, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Say it again,” he repeated, his crimson eyes boring into yours, intense and unyielding. His hands reached for your face, cradling it gently, almost reverently. “Say you love me.”

Your stomach twisted violently, the bile rising in your throat as his words registered. The sheer audacity of the request—no, the demand—made your breath hitch. His gaze was burning, his expression raw with yearning and something darker, more possessive. It wasn’t just a request. It was a need, a hunger that radiated from him like a physical force.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to pull away from his grasp. “I can’t. It was a lie. I don’t love you.”

You braced yourself for his anger, for his retaliation. You’d seen him unleash his fury before, had witnessed the cold, ruthless man he could become. But to your shock, Sylus didn’t lash out. Instead, his lips curved into a small smile, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t care,” he said softly, his voice steady, almost amused. “You already chose me. I just want to hear it again.”

Before you could react, his gaze dropped to your lips, and he leaned in, capturing them in a kiss so intense it left you breathless. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that was almost overwhelming, as though he wanted to consume every part of you. His hands tightened on your face, holding you in place, his warmth pressing against you until it felt suffocating.

When he finally pulled away, his lips didn’t linger far, trailing a deliberate, heated path down to your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, each exhale brushing against the sensitive curve of your throat and sending a shiver racing down your spine. His movements were slower now, almost maddeningly so, as though he was savoring every inch of you. His lips pressed lightly, his touch deceptively soft as his presence loomed over you, suffocating and consuming.

“Say it,” he whispered against your skin, the word vibrating through you like an electric current. His tone was lower now, husky, his lips brushing against the delicate pulse point in your neck as he spoke. “Please.”

The word stopped you cold. You froze, your breath catching as his plea registered. Please. Sylus had never said “please” before. The sheer vulnerability in the word felt so alien, so at odds with the man who had destroyed and controlled everything in your life. His dominance was still there, suffocating and unrelenting, but beneath it, you could hear a strange desperation, a yearning that twisted your stomach into knots.

Your body betrayed you, the proximity of him igniting a sensation you couldn’t suppress. The heat of his breath, the faint brush of his lips against your skin, sent an unwelcome tingling sensation spreading through you. It was subtle at first—a faint, involuntary reaction to the closeness, to the warmth—but it grew stronger with every second he lingered, every featherlight graze of his lips against your neck.

Was it desire? Was it longing? Or was it just a physical response you couldn’t control? Whatever it was made you feel sick. Your skin tingled with an unwanted awareness of him, the sensation making you hyperconscious of the way his fingers lightly pressed against your jaw, the way his breath fanned out across your throat.

You hated it. Hated the way your body responded against your will, the way the sensations made it harder to focus, harder to think. Every nerve felt raw, heightened, betraying you in ways that made your chest ache with anger and despair. You wanted to pull away, to scream, to tell him to stop, but your body was frozen, caught between the weight of his presence and the sharp, pulsing awareness of every point of contact between you.

“I won’t,” you finally managed, your voice trembling but resolute. The words came out more as a breathless whisper than the firm refusal you wanted them to be. You turned your head sharply, breaking the connection between his lips and your skin, your tears spilling freely as you struggled to regain control of yourself. “I won’t say it.”

His low chuckle rumbled against you, sending another unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice carrying an infuriating amusement, as though your resistance only intrigued him further. “Have it your way, then sweetie.”

You hated him. Hated the smugness in his voice, the possessiveness in his touch. You hated the life growing inside you—not your daughter, never her—but the circumstances that bound you to Sylus. You hated everything he had taken from you—Xavier, your freedom, your hope.

The ache in your chest grew sharper, hotter, until it felt like your heart was being squeezed by an iron fist, crushing every beat into a strained, painful rhythm. It wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, a maelstrom of grief, despair, and rage all colliding in a storm you couldn’t contain. Your lungs tightened, each breath coming in short, shallow gasps that left you lightheaded. Your hands trembled violently as you clutched at your chest, your nails digging into the fabric of your dress as though you could physically tear the pain away.

Your vision blurred with tears, the edges of the car around you becoming indistinct smudges of darkness. The warmth of Sylus’s presence beside you felt suffocating, his closeness amplifying the weight pressing down on your ribs. You felt as though you were being crushed under the enormity of it all—your betrayal of Xavier, your surrender to Sylus, your complete and utter loss of control over your life.

Your sobs wracked your body, uncontrollable and raw. Each gasp for air was a battle, your chest heaving as if it were trying to force the pain out with every broken breath. Your skin burned, clammy with sweat that made the night air feel colder than it should have.

“It hurts,” you gasped, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, soaking into the collar of your shirt as your body shook. “It hurts so much…”

The ache radiated outward, stabbing through your arms, your neck, your back, until it felt as though your entire body was rebelling against you. Your heart pounded erratically, each beat sending a sharp, searing pain through your chest. Panic flooded your senses, drowning out reason, making it impossible to focus on anything but the relentless, suffocating pain.

Your mind spiraled, disjointed thoughts flashing through the haze of agony. Is this what heartbreak feels like? Is it my heart—my actual heart? Oh God, what if something’s wrong with the baby? The thought sent another wave of fear crashing over you, your hand moving instinctively to your stomach, trembling as you tried to feel some sign of reassurance, some movement that would tell you everything was okay.

But the kicks you’d felt earlier were gone. Or maybe they were there, and you just couldn’t sense them through the overwhelming fog of pain. The uncertainty made your sobs grow louder, more desperate. You tried to call out, but your voice failed, the words catching in your throat as your chest tightened further.

The edges of your vision darkened, your head spinning as though the world itself had tilted off its axis. You could hear Sylus’s voice beside you, sharp and urgent, but the words didn’t register. Everything was slipping away, your senses fading one by one, until all that remained was the unbearable, unrelenting ache in your chest.

Your vision blurred, your body trembling violently as the pain in your chest became unbearable. The edges of the world grew darker, the sounds around you fading to a dull hum.

“Luke, drive faster,” Sylus barked, his voice sharp and commanding. “Kieran, call Dr. Merill. Now!”

The last thing you registered was the sound of tires screeching, Sylus’s arms tightening around you as his voice grew distant. The pain eased into a strange numbness, the darkness swallowing you whole. Then, nothing.

The forest swallowed him whole.

Xavier moved through the dense shadows like a ghost, his steps heavy and unsteady, each one dragging him deeper into the dark. The clearing, the fight, your face—they all faded into the background, but they lingered in his mind like haunting echoes. The cold night air bit at his skin, but he didn’t feel it. The ache in his chest was too overwhelming, too consuming to notice anything else.

His vision blurred, but not from the darkness. Hot tears streamed down his face, dripping onto the ground as his breaths came in short, ragged bursts. He stumbled over a root, catching himself on a nearby tree, his palm scraping against the rough bark. The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the searing agony in his chest. His heart felt as though it had been torn apart, the raw edges twisting with every step.

She chose him. She said she loves him.

The words repeated in his mind, relentless and cruel. They rang louder than the crunch of his boots against the leaves, louder than the faint rustle of the wind through the trees. He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he forced himself to keep moving. But the ache wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t relent, and neither would the tears.

Tears. He hadn’t cried in years. Not really.

As a child, maybe, he had shed a few tears when the world became too big or too frightening to handle. But after that? He had learned to swallow his pain, to bury his emotions deep inside where no one could see them. Tears were for the weak. He had told himself that for so long, believed it so fiercely, that he’d come to think himself immune to them.

But now? Now the dam had broken, and he couldn’t stop. The sobs wracked through his chest, guttural and raw, tearing free from a place so deep he hadn’t even known it existed. You were the only person who could bring him to such a state. He staggered forward, his hand gripping the trunk of a tree to steady himself as the weight of his grief crushed him.

“I love him.”

Your words felt like a knife twisting in his chest, each syllable cutting deeper than the last. He wanted to scream, to curse, to deny it, but all that came out was another broken sob. He slid to his knees, the cold, damp earth biting against his legs as he buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with the force of his cries, his breath coming in short, shuddering gasps that left him dizzy.

Why? Why would you say that?

Xavier lifted his head, his tear-streaked face turning upward toward the canopy of trees. His fists clenched, his knuckles white as he pressed them against the ground. “Dammit!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the stillness. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

He slammed his fist against the dirt, over and over, each strike a futile attempt to expel the rage and anguish coiled in his chest. But it didn’t help. Nothing helped. The pain was still there, sharp and unrelenting, twisting like a vice around his heart.

“She’s lying,” he muttered, his voice shaking. He sat back on his heels, his hands trembling as they fell to his sides. “She has to be lying.”

But even as he said it, doubt crept in, insidious and cruel. What if you weren't lying? What if you truly had chosen Sylus, had willingly gone back to him? The thought made him sick, his stomach churning as fresh tears blurred his vision.

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as if to banish the thought. “No,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “No, she wouldn’t…”

But the image of you in Sylus’s arms burned in his mind, seared into his memory like a brand. The way you had looked at Xavier, your tears streaming down your face, your voice trembling with those words—it haunted him. And the way Sylus had held you, his eyes gleaming with triumph, his hand possessively on your waist—it made Xavier’s blood boil.

“She left with me. She…she wanted to kiss me,” he muttered, his voice trembling as he tried to make sense of it all. His thoughts were disjointed, fragments of memory colliding with the present. “That meant something. It had to.”

The tears came harder, the cold, damp earth biting against his skin. He doubled over, his forehead pressing against the dirt as his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

With the weight of her choice crushing him, he couldn’t stop. The sobs wracked through him, raw and uncontrollable, each one tearing free from the depths of his chest.

His thoughts turned to the cabin, to the way you had looked at him, the way your voice had trembled when you told him your fears, the way you had leaned in, so close to kissing him that he could still feel the ghost of your breath. That wasn’t a lie. That wasn’t fake. It couldn’t have been. You had even wanted him to father your baby. It couldn't have been...

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he spoke the words into the void. He lifted his head, staring into the darkness as tears streamed down his face. “I love you too, Evia. Though we'll never meet.”

But you both were gone. And Xavier was left alone in the dark, his heart shattered, his tears falling freely for the first time in a long time.

The world came back to you slowly, like waking from a deep, fevered sleep. At first, it was just a faint hum—a low murmur of voices that seemed distant, like they were coming from the other end of a tunnel. Your body felt heavy, almost detached, as though the weight of the world had pinned you down. Each breath was a shallow struggle, your chest rising and falling weakly. When you finally blinked your eyes open, the soft glow of dim lights stung, making you wince. You knew this place immediately. The pristine decor, the faint scent of cedar and leather—it was unmistakable. You were back in Sylus’s house.

The first thing you registered was the cool sensation against your stomach. Turning your head slightly, you saw Dr. Merrill seated beside you, his expression focused as he maneuvered an ultrasound wand over your belly. The sight of it brought a brief flicker of awareness. Your daughter. The rhythmic beeping of a nearby machine was faintly reassuring, though you weren’t entirely sure why. Merrill’s attention was on the monitor, his sharp gaze scanning the screen as he spoke to someone just out of view. His voice was steady, clinical, but you caught the faint undertone of concern in his words.

“Sylus,” Dr. Merrill said, his tone low but firm. “She seems stable, but there’s still a risk of—”

A soft groan slipped from your lips as you shifted slightly, the effort sending a dull ache through your entire body. Both men turned toward you instantly, their conversation halting mid-sentence. You could feel the weight of their gazes, sharp and assessing, as though waiting for a sign that you were truly awake.

“I knew it wouldn’t be long before she awoke,” Dr. Merill said, offering a small, measured smile as he set the wand down on a nearby tray. His voice carried a practiced calm, but there was something calculating behind his eyes, as though he were studying you. “How are you feeling?”

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Your throat felt raw and dry, your tongue heavy in your mouth. The truth was, you felt terrible—your head throbbed, your chest ached, and your entire body felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry. But all you managed was a faint, pitiful whimper. The effort alone left you exhausted, your head sinking back into the pillow.

Sylus was at your side in an instant. His eyes searched your face with an intensity that made your stomach churn, his worry palpable as he brushed a hand across your forehead. His touch was warm, lingering as he frowned. “She’s burning up, Merrill,” he said, his voice tight with concern.

“I’ll get an ice pack,” Dr. Merrill replied briskly, already turning to rummage through his medical bag. His movements were precise, his hands steady as he searched for what he needed.

Sylus didn’t move. His other hand came to rest lightly on your arm, his thumb brushing against your skin in a gesture that was meant to be soothing but only filled you with dread. His gaze never left your face, his expression softening slightly as he leaned closer. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’ve got you. Just rest.”

You wanted to turn away from him, to shrink from his touch, but your body felt like it was weighed down by lead. Your mind was too hazy, too heavy with exhaustion and something else you couldn’t quite name. The pain in your chest had lessened, but the ache lingered, a reminder of everything that had brought you here.

Dr. Merrill returned, pressing a cool ice pack against your forehead. The sensation was immediate, cutting through the feverish heat clouding your senses and bringing a small measure of relief. “She’ll be fine,” he said, his tone firm and professional as he looked toward Sylus. “Her Protocore Syndrome flared up—too much stress, combined with her advanced stage of pregnancy. Her heart simply couldn’t keep up.”

Sylus’s jaw tightened, his hand lingering on your arm as his gaze flicked to your belly, then back to Merrill. “And the baby?” he asked, his voice clipped, as though he was bracing himself for the answer.

“The baby’s fine,” Merrill reassured him, gesturing to the monitor. “Strong heartbeat, no signs of distress. But,” he added, his tone growing sterner, “she needs rest. No excessive movement, no stress, nothing that could exacerbate her condition. She’s nearing the end of her term, so I recommend daily walks outside to keep her circulation steady—but only in moderation.”

Sylus nodded curtly, his expression unreadable, though his eyes remained fixed on you. There was a strange mix of emotions in his gaze—possessiveness, concern, something darker you couldn’t quite name. His hand moved to brush your hair back from your face, his touch careful, almost tender, though it made your stomach churn. “I’ll make sure of it,” he said simply, his voice carrying a quiet finality.

You barely registered their words. Your mind was far away, trapped in an endless loop of memories and pain. Xavier’s face was burned into your thoughts, a constant, inescapable image. The way he had looked at you—his heartbreak, his disbelief, the tear that had slipped down his cheek. It replayed over and over, a cruel reminder of what you had done, of the man you had destroyed to save him.

You have to let him go, you thought, the words like a knife in your chest. You have to shove him down, bury him so deep he can never surface again. But the harder you tried, the more his face rose to the surface, vivid and all-consuming.

“She’s disassociating,” Dr. Merrill said softly, his voice breaking through the haze of your thoughts. His perceptive gaze fell on you, his tone calm but laced with subtle concern. “Her body may be recovering, but her mind isn’t. She needs time.”

Sylus’s hand tightened slightly against your arm, his touch grounding but heavy. “She’ll have all the time she needs,” he said firmly, his voice low and protective. “I’ll see to it.”

You turned your head slightly, your eyes meeting his. His expression was resolute, his gaze steady as though daring you to challenge him. But you couldn’t. You simply nodded faintly, closing your eyes as the weight of exhaustion and heartbreak pulled you back under.

And as the darkness crept in, Xavier’s tear-streaked face lingered in your mind, unyielding and inescapable. No matter how deep you tried to bury him, he refused to let go. And somewhere deep inside, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

The days blurred together as you spent them confined to Sylus’s bed. It wasn’t confinement in the strict sense—there were no locks on the door, no chains tethering you to the room—but you might as well have been imprisoned. Sylus’s presence loomed constantly, his gaze watching your every move with a vigilance that made your skin crawl. Ever since the scare with your heart, he had taken it upon himself to monitor you closely, doing everything in his power to keep you "comfortable."

He did almost everything for you. Too much, in fact. He brought your meals, adjusted your pillows, even attempted to spoon-feed you once. That particular moment had tested what little patience you had left. You’d snatched the fork from his hand with a sharp glare, refusing to meet his amused smile as he murmured something about how stubborn you were.

But even with Sylus hovering and managing every detail of your physical care, your mind remained your own battleground. Xavier haunted you, his face a constant presence in your thoughts. The ache in your chest didn’t ease—it had simply settled into a dull, persistent throb that you carried with you everywhere. What is he doing? Where did he go? Is he still alive?

No matter how hard you tried to push the questions away, they always returned, stubborn and relentless. The moments when Sylus wasn’t in the room were the worst, the silence amplifying your thoughts until they were deafening. Still, you didn’t cry. You had cried so much over the past several months that the tears felt meaningless now. They hadn’t helped you before, and they wouldn’t help you now. There was no catharsis to be found in them, no solace. It was time to accept your circumstances, even if the acceptance tasted bitter on your tongue.

You had fought. You reminded yourself of that every time the despair threatened to pull you under. You had fought with everything you had, and you had lost. But at least you could tell yourself it wasn’t for nothing. Xavier was alive—somewhere—and that had to mean something. At least your loss had bought him time, bought him freedom. That small, fragile victory was all you had to cling to.

And in the quiet moments, you reminded yourself that things could be worse. Sylus could have been cruel in ways that made your skin crawl just to imagine. He could have beaten you, starved you, locked you away in a cage like an animal. But he didn’t. Not physically, at least. His punishments were subtler, his control over you no less suffocating for its lack of physical violence.

It surprised you, though, that Sylus hadn’t punished you at all for running away with Xavier. You had expected fury, retribution, but instead, he had been calm. Gentle, even. It didn’t make sense, and that unsettled you more than if he’d lashed out. Sylus was unpredictable in ways that made it hard to breathe when you were near him.

Your sadness wasn’t just for yourself anymore. It extended to the tiny life growing inside you, to the daughter who had no say in any of this. She would grow up in a world you couldn’t protect her from, tied to a father you couldn’t shield her from. You hated that you couldn’t give her the life she deserved. You hated that you couldn’t even summon excitement for her arrival, though you tried. Coping was all you could manage—coping and surviving.

Eventually, Sylus allowed you to move around the house, though his watchful gaze followed you even then. One night, you found yourself in the nursery, a room you hadn’t spent much time in until now. The soft glow of a lamp lit the space, casting warm shadows over the pale walls and the carefully arranged furniture. A crib stood in the corner, draped with a delicate mobile of stars and clouds, and shelves lined with toys and books hinted at the life your daughter would one day have.

You sat on a small chair by the window, a basket of freshly laundered baby clothes at your feet. Onesies and tiny socks were scattered across your lap, their pastel colors bright against the dim room. Your hands moved automatically, folding and smoothing each piece as you tried to distract yourself with idle fantasies. What will she look like? What will her voice sound like? Will she laugh easily? Cry often?

You weren’t particularly excited, but in these quiet moments, you allowed yourself to wonder. Even if it hurt, even if you felt like you were building castles in the sand while the tide crept closer.

The sound of a voice startled you, and you jumped, the onesie in your hands slipping to the floor.

“You look peaceful,” Sylus said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

You turned sharply, your heart racing as you saw him leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on you. He didn’t move, but his presence filled the room, oppressive and inescapable.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I was just… folding her clothes,” you said, your voice weaker than you intended.

Sylus’s lips curled into a faint smile as he stepped inside, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking prey. “You’re up later than usual,” he said, his tone almost amused. “I wasn’t sure you’d adjust so quickly.”

Your hands clenched into fists around the fabric in your lap, the forced calm of his words grating against your nerves. You didn’t respond. What was there to say?

Sylus reached your side, his fingers brushing against the chair’s backrest as he loomed over you. “You’ll be an excellent mother,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to your belly. “She’ll be amazing. Just like you.”

His words felt like a vice tightening around your chest, the weight of his expectations pressing down on you. You couldn’t meet his eyes anymore, your gaze dropping to the onesies scattered at your feet as your stomach churned.

“Why are you here?” you asked finally, your voice strained.

Sylus tilted his head, his smile deepening. “Because I wanted to talk,” he said simply. And somehow, that answer felt worse than anything else he could have said.

“What’s there to even talk about?” you asked, your voice subdued but tinged with quiet frustration. You kept your gaze on the tiny clothes in your lap, your hands moving aimlessly as you tried to ignore the weight of Sylus’s presence behind you.

“The penthouses,” he said smoothly, as though the answer should have been obvious. “I wanted to know if you’d made up your mind about which one you’d like to move to.”

You sucked in a breath, the mention of it sending a jolt through you. Of course. How could you forget? A larger prison was waiting for you, dressed up as luxury, right after you gave birth to a child you weren’t even sure you could raise or love properly. The thought sat heavy in your stomach, twisting into an ache that threatened to rise to your throat. But you couldn’t let it show. You couldn’t let him see.

Keeping your voice as even as possible, you replied, “Ah. Sorry, it slipped my mind, love. I’ll take a look at them again in the morning, okay?”

You didn’t turn to look at him, your focus firmly planted on the onesies in your lap. The word “love” felt foreign and bitter on your tongue, but you said it anyway, hoping it would keep the moment from escalating. For a moment, the room was silent except for the soft rustle of fabric.

But Sylus wasn’t the type to be brushed aside so easily.

Sylus leaned down next to your head, until you could feel the heat of him breathing next to your ear. His voice was lower now, more commanding as he said, “Look at me.”

The tone of his words left no room for refusal. Your body tensed instinctively, but you obeyed, turning your head slowly to meet his gaze. His eyes locked onto yours, intense and searching, as though he could see every thought, every secret, every feeling buried deep within you. The weight of his stare made your chest tighten, your breath catching as you waited for him to speak.

He didn’t, not at first. The silence stretched on, thick and oppressive, as he simply studied you, his expression unreadable. Finally, he broke the quiet, his voice softer now but no less penetrating. “Are you doing okay these days? You’ve been very quiet.”

The question threw you off balance. His tone carried an air of genuine concern, but you didn’t trust it. Not fully. How could you possibly be okay with everything that had transpired? With everything you’d endured? You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you struggled to find an answer that wouldn’t tip the balance.

“I honestly…don’t know,” you said finally, your voice faltering. The admission felt dangerous, like exposing a raw nerve, but the words slipped out before you could stop them. “Everything’s happening so soon and yet so fast at the same time. And sometimes…”

You hesitated, unsure if you should continue. The rest of the sentence hung on the tip of your tongue, heavy and uncertain. Sylus tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he leaned closer, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. “Sometimes?” he prompted, his voice low and coaxing.

You sucked in a nervous breath, your fingers twisting the fabric of a onesie in your lap. The words felt fragile, as though saying them aloud would make them too real, but the look in his eyes made it clear he wouldn’t let it go. Finally, you forced yourself to speak, your voice trembling as you said, “Sometimes I wonder what things would have been like if we had met…y’know, normally.”

His reaction was immediate. His crimson eyes widened slightly, the flicker of surprise unmistakable. For a man who seemed to pride himself on being unreadable, he wasn’t prepared for your words. He blinked once, his lips parting as though he meant to say something, but no sound came out.

Finally, he exhaled slowly, his expression shifting to something contemplative. “That’s…an interesting thought,” he said, his voice quieter now. He straightened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he seemed to draw closer, his gaze softening as he studied your face. “I’ve thought about it too.”

The admission sent a ripple through you, unsettling and confusing all at once. The idea that Sylus, the man who had orchestrated so much of your suffering, had entertained thoughts of a different life was difficult to reconcile. “You’ve thought about it?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself.

He nodded, his lips curving into a faint, almost wistful smile. “More than once,” he admitted, his tone quieter, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. “I wonder…if we’d met under normal circumstances, if I could have shown you the kind of man I wanted to be, instead of the man I had to become.”

The weight of his words settled over you, heavy and unexpected. There was something raw in his tone, something almost regretful, and it left you feeling off-balance. You didn’t know how to respond, so you didn’t. Instead, you looked down, your hands fiddling with the baby clothes as the silence stretched between you.

Sylus let out a soft sigh, stepping closer until he was right beside you. He knelt down, lowering himself to your eye level as his hand reached out to brush against your cheek. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as though he was afraid you might flinch. “I know I’ve made your life… difficult,” he said, his voice steady but laced with a rare vulnerability. “But I want to be a better man for you both."

His hand moved to rest lightly on your belly, the gesture both grounding and suffocating. You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you struggled to process his words.

“Do you hate me?” he asked suddenly, his voice soft but unyielding.

The question hit you like a punch, and your breath caught in your throat. You looked at him, startled by the rawness in his expression. For once, there was no smugness, no calculated charm—just an earnestness that made your heart twist.

“I…” The word stuck, your mind reeling. Did you hate him? You wanted to. You felt like you should. But the emotions tangled inside you were too complex, too messy to pin down. “I don’t know sometimes,” you said finally, your voice barely audible.

Sylus nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. “I can live with that,” he said softly. “As long as there’s a chance for something more.”

He lingered for a moment longer, his hand brushing against yours before he semmed to ponder something. “You don’t have to decide anything about the penthouses, tonight,” he said, his tone returning to its usual steadiness. “Just…think about it.”

But , he didn’t leave. Instead, to your surprise, he leaned beside the basket of baby clothes at your feet, his crimson eyes scanning the scattered onesies and socks as though considering them for the first time. Without a word, he reached for one—a pale yellow onesie with tiny embroidered stars along the collar—and held it up between his fingers.

For a moment, the sight of him holding something so small, so innocent, caught you off guard. It was almost surreal to see Sylus, a man who wielded power with such ease and ruthlessness, gently smoothing out the fabric of a baby’s outfit. His expression softened, and he glanced at you with an almost shy smile.

“These are…smaller than I imagined,” he said quietly, his tone thoughtful. “It’s hard to believe she’ll be wearing this soon.”

You blinked, momentarily disarmed by the gentleness in his voice. “Yeah,” you said softly, your hands stilling on the onesie in your lap. “I guess it’s hard to picture. The size of your hands probably don't help much for comparison though.”

He nodded slightly, his fingers brushing over the fabric before he began folding the onesie carefully, his movements precise but unfamiliar, like someone mimicking an action they’d only ever seen. You watched him silently, unsure of how to process the sight.

When he finished folding, he placed the onesie neatly on the growing pile of clothes and reached for another. “I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, glancing at you briefly. “I’m probably terrible at it.”

A faint, involuntary smile tugged at your lips. “You’re…actually not bad,” you said, your voice softer than you intended.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly at your words, a faint glimmer of satisfaction in his expression. He picked up a pair of tiny socks next, holding them up with a bemused look. “These are very tiny,” he said, almost to himself. “Will they even fit?”

“They will, at least for a little while” you replied, reaching out to take the socks from him. Your fingers brushed against his briefly, and you pulled back quickly, focusing on folding the socks and setting them aside.

Sylus seemed to notice your reaction but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he continued picking up the clothes one by one, his focus now fully on the task at hand. The silence between you was no longer heavy or strained—it felt almost…normal. The rhythm of folding, smoothing, and stacking clothes became a strange sort of peace, a momentary reprieve from the weight of everything else.

As you worked together, Sylus spoke again, his voice quiet but steady. “I’ve been thinking a lot about her,” he said, his gaze dropping to the clothes in his hands. “What kind of father I’ll be. What kind of life I can give her.”

His words surprised you, and you glanced at him cautiously, unsure of where he was going with this. “And what did you decide?” you asked tentatively.

He paused, his fingers lingering on a pale pink onesie with tiny hearts on the sleeves. “I decided that I want to do better. For her. For you.” His crimson eyes lifted to meet yours, his expression unusually vulnerable. “I know I can’t change the past. But I can change what happens next.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. The sincerity in his voice left you speechless, leaving you struggling to find the right words. Instead, you nodded slightly, your hands moving automatically as you folded another onesie.

Sylus seemed to sense your hesitation, but he didn’t press you. He simply continued folding, the two of you working in quiet companionship. It was a strange moment—so ordinary, yet so weighted by the complexities of your relationship. You didn’t know if you could trust his words, his intentions, but for now, you let yourself focus on the simple, tangible task in front of you.

Because for now, it was all you could manage.

“You’re leaving again?” you asked, your voice edged with disbelief, though you tried to mask it. You watched Sylus move briskly around the room, the scent of his shower lingering in the air—a mix of cedarwood and something faint that seemed uniquely him. Water still clung to the ends of his hair, wet and glistening as he combed it back with quick, practiced strokes. He was buttoning up a crisp red shirt, the tailored fabric clinging perfectly to his broad frame, his every movement purposeful and efficient.

“How long this time?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, your arms folding instinctively over the curve of your belly as you tried to steady yourself. The weight of your pregnancy, both literal and figurative, made his sudden departure feel heavier, more precarious than usual.

Sylus paused, his crimson eyes flicking to meet yours briefly before returning to his task. There was something in his expression—regret, maybe, or something close to it—but his voice was steady when he spoke. “Not long. As much as I hate to leave you, this isn’t something I can ignore.”

The words felt rehearsed, polished, as if he’d already prepared for this conversation in his mind. He moved toward the dresser, fastening a sleek watch around his wrist, the faint metallic click of the clasp echoing in the quiet room. His calmness only unsettled you further.

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of your belly as you took in his explanation. “The twins are staying behind to watch you,” he added, his tone matter-of-fact, as if that solved everything. “If anything changes—or your water breaks—they’ll let me know immediately.”

You blinked, absorbing his words. The twins. Of course. They were always his solution when it came to you, a pair of silent shadows who loomed wherever Sylus directed them. It wasn’t exactly reassuring. The thought of those two watching your every move, reporting back to Sylus, made you feel more like a caged bird than ever.

“And this couldn’t wait?” you pressed gently, trying to keep your voice neutral. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your heart pounding as you braced for his response.

Sylus turned back toward the mirror, running a hand through his damp hair as he grabbed a small vial of cologne and dabbed it at his neck. The scent mingled with the steam still clinging to the room, rich and sharp. He exuded control, a man preparing for something important. You couldn’t help but wonder where he was going—and why it seemed to demand such attention to detail.

The thought gnawed at you, spiraling into an uncomfortable suspicion. Why does he need to look this good? You didn’t want to voice it, didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, but Sylus must have noticed the flicker of doubt in your expression.

He let out a low chuckle, crossing the room in a few long strides until he stood directly in front of you. “This isn’t to see some other woman,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. His crimson eyes softened slightly as he leaned down to press a swift kiss to your lips. “Calm down.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat rising to your face. “I wasn’t—” you started, but the words died in your throat as Sylus knelt in front of you, his attention shifting entirely.

He placed his hands lightly on either side of your belly, his touch firm but gentle, and leaned in to press a featherlight kiss against the taut skin. The gesture sent a jolt through you, the intimacy of it disarming you entirely.

“Don’t make your mommy too sick while I’m gone, okay, little dove?” he murmured, his voice lower now, carrying a warmth that felt almost too genuine to bear.

Your heart twisted, conflicted by the tenderness of the moment. Sylus had a way of doing this—disarming you, leaving you unsure of where you stood or how to feel. One moment, he was the man who had torn your life apart, and the next, he was murmuring to your unborn child with a warmth that almost seemed genuine.

Your daughter responded with a faint kick, and your hand moved instinctively to the spot. Sylus noticed, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “She’s awake,” he said softly, his hand brushing yours for the briefest moment before he straightened.

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your racing heart. “Just…don’t be gone too long,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, almost resigned.

Sylus reached for his jacket, sliding it on in one fluid motion. His movements were quick, efficient, but he paused as he grabbed the doorknob, glancing back at you. His gaze lingered, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softened again.

“I won’t be,” he said, his voice steady but not entirely convincing. “And remember—you’re in good hands.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the door, a silent reference to the twins.

You nodded faintly, your hands moving back to your belly as you tried to ground yourself. “Safe,” you murmured under your breath, the word feeling hollow in the air between you.

Without another word, Sylus opened the door, the cool air of the hallway brushing against your skin as he stepped out. The sound of his shoes echoed faintly as he disappeared down the corridor, leaving you standing alone in the quiet room, your thoughts louder than ever.

You let out a shaky breath, sinking back into the chair by the window. The weight of his absence settled over you, but it was quickly replaced by something else—an unease, a gnawing feeling that refused to let go. You didn’t know where Sylus was going, or why it felt like this time was different. But the thought of him leaving so close to your due date filled you with a quiet, gnawing dread.

The twins weren’t so bad. They were entertaining to watch, at least. They were as attentive as Sylus in some regards, albeit a bit clumsy. While Sylus always carried an air of control, the twins sometimes felt like they were figuring things out as they went along. It was endearing, in its own way—though you’d never admit that to their faces.

You often found yourself watching them out of boredom, your days stretching endlessly in the quiet house. They didn’t talk much unless they had to, and when they did, it was usually to argue with each other in low tones. But their constant presence, though stifling, offered a strange sense of consistency in a life that felt increasingly unsteady.

One morning, you found yourself restless. The nursery had already been organized and reorganized, the house was spotless, and you couldn’t stomach the idea of lying in bed another second. You wandered into the kitchen, the idea of cooking something—anything—suddenly appealing. The smell of vegetables sizzling on the stove, the sound of a knife against a cutting board… it was something tangible, something normal. Something that was yours.

But as soon as you began pulling ingredients from the pantry, the twins appeared. Luke leaned casually against the doorway, his features hidden behind his mask as he watched you. “What are you doing?” he asked, his tone skeptical.

“Cooking,” you replied simply, setting a carton of eggs on the counter.

“Cooking,” he repeated, tilting his head. “You sure you don’t want us to just order something? Less dangerous that way.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling a few vegetables from the fridge. “I’m sure. And if you’re going to hover, you might as well help.”

Luke laughed softly, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s in my job description.”

Kieran, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, his head shifting between you and the array of ingredients on the counter. “What are you making?” he asked, his voice calm.

“Stir-fry,” you replied, grabbing a knife and starting to chop. “Nothing fancy.”

Kieran nodded, moving to the sink to wash his hands. Luke, on the other hand, stayed planted in the doorway, watching with mild amusement.

“You’re actually helping?” Luke asked, incredulous.

“She shouldn’t be standing this long,” Kieran replied simply, taking a carrot from the counter and slicing it with precise, mechanical movements.

“I’m right here, you know,” you muttered, shooting him a glance.

Luke chuckled, finally stepping into the kitchen. “Fine. But if I burn something, it’s on you.”

The three of you worked in an awkward sort of harmony—Kieran slicing vegetables with military precision, Luke fumbling with the stove controls, and you guiding them both with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Despite Luke’s earlier protests, he eventually started to take the task seriously, though his grumbling never entirely ceased.

When the food was finally done, you all sat at the kitchen table, the tension between you lightened by the mundane simplicity of the moment. For the first time in days, you felt a flicker of normalcy.

That sense of normalcy didn’t last long.

It was the middle of the night when you woke to a sharp, tightening pain low in your belly. You gasped, your hand flying to your stomach as panic set in. Was this it? Was she coming early? The room felt too warm, too quiet, and you called out instinctively.

“Luke? Kieran?”

The door flew open almost immediately, Kieran stepping inside first with his usual calm intensity. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his head scanning you quickly, assessing the situation.

Luke appeared behind him, looking far less composed. “Is it the baby?” he asked, his voice tight.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammered, your heart racing. “It hurt. I think… I think it’s starting.”

Luke grabbed his phone, muttering something about calling Sylus, while Kieran moved closer, crouching beside the bed. “Breathe,” he instructed, his tone steady but not unkind. “Tell me exactly what you’re feeling.”

You tried to describe the sensations, your words tumbling over each other as another wave of discomfort rolled through you. But just as quickly as it had started, the pain subsided, leaving you feeling exhausted and embarrassed.

“I don’t think it’s labor,” you said finally, your voice shaky. “Just… Braxton Hicks, maybe?”

“Braxton what?” Luke asked, still clutching his phone like a lifeline.

“False contractions,” Kieran supplied, his attention still on you. “It’s common.”

Luke groaned, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “I was scared shitless that I was about to deliver a baby” he muttered, though his voice carried more relief than frustration.

Despite the scare, you managed a faint smile. It was almost comical, seeing these two hardened boys thrown off balance by something so mundane.

The next day brought more excitement, though of an entirely different kind.

You were sitting in the living room when the house alarm blared, its piercing wail sending your heart racing. The twins appeared almost immediately, Kieran with a knife in hand and Luke wielding a gun.

“Stay here,” Kieran said sharply, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You nodded, clutching your belly as you watched them disappear down the hallway. Your mind raced with possibilities—an intruder, an attack, something that Sylus would undoubtedly be worried about. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before the twins returned.

Kieran was carrying something in his arms—a small, scruffy cat. Its fur was matted, its eyes wide and curious as it squirmed in his grip.

“Seriously?” Luke muttered, silencing the alarm. “A damn cat?”

“It tripped the door sensor,” Kieran said evenly, though his grip on the animal suggested he wasn’t thrilled about the situation either.

You blinked at the sight, the absurdity of it cutting through your lingering fear. “So…no intruder?”

“Unless you count this thing,” Luke replied, gesturing at the cat.

Despite yourself, you laughed softly. “What are you going to do with it?”

Kieran looked down at the cat, then at you. “What do you want to do with it?”

For a moment, you considered keeping it. The idea of a companion, even a scruffy stray, was tempting. But the reality of your situation hit quickly, and you shook your head. “Let it go. It’s probably just lost.”

Kieran nodded, carrying the cat to the door and setting it outside. As he returned, Luke clapped his hands. “Well, that was the most excitement we’ve had all week.”

For once, you couldn’t disagree.

A week had passed, and the weight of your thoughts seemed to get heavier with each passing day. Sylus’s absence felt more oppressive than ever. Though he checked in regularly, his vague answers only left you with more questions. You could tell he wasn’t being completely honest with you, but there was little you could do about it. The twins were always around, their watchful eyes following you from a distance. It wasn’t comforting, but it was better than being completely alone.

You did your best to keep yourself occupied—books, music, TV, whatever you could to keep the crushing weight of your thoughts at bay. The daily walks outside helped too, though even those were becoming more difficult. Your belly was undeniably huge, the weight making even the simplest movements feel like monumental tasks. At 36 weeks, you were well into your ninth month, and the pressure on your body was relentless.

You had to grip Kieran or Luke’s shoulders sometimes to keep your balance, and even then, it felt like you might topple over at any moment. You could only mutter to yourself, “Just a few more weeks…” as you breathed in the cool air of the N109 Zone. The breeze hit your face, refreshing but fleeting, before it was replaced with the growing ache in your lower back.

Luke and Kieran were chatting behind you, laughing softly over some trivial conversation, both of them sipping cans of soda. It was funny they had to life their masks to do so. You didn’t want to slow them down, so you walked ahead, trying to ignore the heaviness in your belly and the increasing tightness in your abdomen. But just as you were about to wave them off, a sharp, searing pain shot through your lower stomach. Another Braxton Hicks contraction.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as your hand instinctively moved to your belly. The pain passed quickly, but the sensation left your heart racing. You turned to stop the twins but before you could get the words out, Luke collided into you from behind. The impact caused him to spill his entire can of soda all over the front of your shirt, a cold, sticky mess.

“Ah! Miss! I’m so, so sorry!” Luke’s voice cracked in panic, genuine shock evident in his movements. “I—uh, I didn’t mean to—”

Before you could respond, Luke’s hands were frantically pulling his coat off. “Here! Take it!” he said, draping it hastily over your shoulders in an attempt to hide your bra. “I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You sighed, your voice strained but calm. “It’s alright, Luke. It was an accident. But I’d really appreciate a towel…I don’t feel like going all the way back into the house.”

“Yes, ma’am! Right away!” Luke practically sprinted back to the house, leaving Kieran standing behind you.

Kieran’s sharp gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable as he watched you shift, trying to keep your composure despite the discomfort. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone cautious but steady.

You nodded slowly, leaning against the statue in front of the house for support. “I’m fine. Just…a little uncomfortable. Nothing to worry about.”

Kieran didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he said nothing, hovering near you as if he was nervous. You absentmindedly slid your hand into the pocket of Luke’s coat, the fabric thick and warm against your cold skin. Your fingers brushed against something cold and metallic, and a strange jolt ran through you.

Wait. Is that...?

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. The shape was unmistakable, the hard, smooth surface of a handgun. Slowly, your fingers curled around its grip, the coolness of the metal biting into your skin as you pulled it out. The weapon was compact but weighty, its matte black finish glimmering as you turned it. The barrel was short and blunt, the kind of design meant for concealment and close quarters. It felt foreign in your hands, the ridges of the grip pressing into your palm like a warning.

The safety was off. You saw the small red dot near the trigger, glaring at you like a silent alarm, and the realization sent your heart into overdrive. This wasn’t a precautionary tool; it was ready to fire, lethal and unforgiving. A faint scratch along the slide spoke to use, the weapon far from pristine but well-maintained—a stark contrast to your trembling, inexperienced hands.

Your pulse spiked as you stared at it, your breath quickening. A faint smell of oil and metal clung to the gun, sharp and distinct, mingling with the earthy scent of the dirt around you. The weight of it felt heavier with every second, its presence as real and pressing as the danger it represented.

What the hell?

“Miss, put that down,” he said, his tone colder, sharper than you’d ever heard it before. His body immediately stiffened, his hands rising slowly in a placating gesture. His usually calm demeanor was replaced with something taut and tense, his gaze seemingly locked onto the weapon with unflinching precision.

“You don’t want to do this,” he added, his voice steady but carrying a note of urgency, as though he were trying to reason with a cornered animal.

But his words barely registered. The gun felt like a live wire in your hands, humming with possibilities both terrifying and exhilarating. For the first time in what felt like forever, you had control—real control—and the realization sent a jolt of adrenaline through your veins.

Your hand shook, but you held the weapon steady, pointing it directly at Kieran’s chest. “Stay back,” you warned, your voice trembling with raw fear. But there was something else in your chest—something fiercer, something that burned like a fire. This was your only chance.

Kieran’s expression hardened, his hands still raised, but his eyes flickered with hesitation. “Miss, please, don’t—”

“Shut up!” you screamed, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. You could feel the blood rushing in your ears, the adrenaline fueling every shaky breath you took. The gun felt heavy in your hands, but it was also the only thing that offered you control—control over this situation, over your own fate. “Move any closer and I’ll shoot.”

Kieran froze, his body clenched, clearly unsure of what to do. He took a small step back, his head darting between you and the weapon.

You heard footsteps approaching quickly, and you didn’t need to look to know that Luke was back with the towel. He entered the yard, his demeanor shifting to shock as he saw you holding the gun, pointing it at Kieran.

“Shit…Miss, just put it down. No one has to get hurt.” Luke’s voice was strained, full of disbelief as he held up his hands in surrender. “Please. Just…put it down.”

“I said stop!” you yelled, swinging the gun between the two of them. They both froze for a moment, their gazes locked on the trembling barrel, but then Luke gave a slight nod to Kieran. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

You watched, heart pounding, as they began moving again—slowly, cautiously, closing the distance between you step by step. “Stop! Stop moving!” you screamed, your voice growing more frantic, but they didn’t listen.

They won’t stop. They’re not afraid of you.

Panic surged in your chest as your mind raced. Think. Think. If the threat isn’t towards them…

Your breath caught as the realization hit you like a lightning bolt. But if it’s towards me and the baby…

Your hands trembled as you turned the gun, the cold barrel pressing against your temple. The metal felt like ice against your skin, grounding you in the chaos of the moment. The twins froze instantly, their expressions shifting from caution to shock.

“Move any closer, and I’ll shoot,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. The fear in their eyes mirrored your own, their hesitation palpable as they exchanged a quick, uncertain glance.

“Miss,” Luke began, his voice low and steady, though it wavered slightly, “I understand you’re upset, but this is no way to—”

“Shut up!” you screamed, your finger brushing the trigger. Your heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst, each beat echoing in your ears. “Don’t try to talk me down. Just move out of my way!”

For the first time, they stopped. Completely. The tension in the air was suffocating, their eyes glued to you as though you were a fragile bomb about to go off. And maybe you were.

This was your one chance, and you weren’t going to waste it. “Move,” you repeated, your voice shaking with desperation. “Move, or I swear I'll blow my brains right here.”

“Miss…the baby,” Luke began, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Think of the baby. She deserves a chance to live at least, right? Just a few more weeks, maybe we can try and talk to Sylu—”

Before he could finish, you raised the gun and fired two sharp, deafening shots into the air. The sound shattered the quiet, echoing through the trees and startling birds into flight. Both twins flinched, their gazes snapping back to you with widened eyes.

“Out of the fucking way, Luke!” you shouted, your voice hoarse but unyielding. “I won’t ask again!”

Your hands trembled as you leveled the gun back toward your own head, the adrenaline pumping through your veins making your vision sharpen, your focus narrowing to the two figures in front of you. The raw power in your voice surprised even you, but you didn’t let yourself falter. Not now.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The wind stilled, the trees silent, as if the earth itself was waiting to see what would happen next. Luke and Kieran exchanged a quick glance, their expressions unreadable but tense. It was Kieran who moved first, his hands still raised as he took a deliberate step to the side. Luke followed, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat.

You didn’t wait to see if it was a trick. The second the path cleared, you bolted. Freedom felt so close you could taste it, and nothing—not the twins, not Sylus, not the aching weight of your belly—was going to stop you.

You dodged past them, your movements unsteady but fueled by sheer determination. The gun felt like an anchor in your hands, but you kept it close, your finger hovering over the trigger just in case. Each step felt like a small victory as you made your way toward the front gate.

“Miss, don’t—” Luke started to call after you, but his voice faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart.

The front gate loomed ahead, its black iron bars glinting in the sunlight. You reached it, your hands fumbling with the latch before swinging it open with a force you didn’t know you had. The hinges groaned in protest, but the gate gave way, and you stumbled forward onto the gravel road beyond.

Keep moving. The thought roared in your mind, drowning out everything else. You needed to find a car, something fast, something that could put as much distance between you and this nightmare as possible.

Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, your chest heaving as you pressed on. You didn’t even feel the strain of your belly anymore, the adrenaline numbing everything but your will to escape. The gravel crunched beneath your feet, each step carrying you farther and farther away.

The reality of your situation gnawed at the edges of your mind, but you shoved it aside. The twins would already be calling Sylus, alerting him to your escape. You had no illusions about how quickly he’d come after you. But for now, for this fleeting moment, you were free. The chains that had bound you—physically, emotionally, mentally—were broken, and the rush of it was almost overwhelming.

You glanced over your shoulder as you reached the end of the drive, half-expecting to see Kieran or Luke chasing after you. But they hadn’t moved from their spot by the gate, their figures still as statues as they watched you go. It was almost unnerving, the way they stood there, as though they were waiting for something.

But you didn’t have time to wonder what. You turned your gaze back to the road ahead, your mind racing with plans and possibilities. Get a car. Cover as much ground as possible. Don’t let this be like last time.

The thought burned in your mind like a mantra as you pushed forward into the eternal night once more, the taste of freedom bitter but intoxicating on your tongue. Whatever happened next, at least for this moment, you were free.

[magical-reid]

Unspoken Truths

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (One use of Y/N)

Setting: Modern MCU timeline, Avengers Tower.

Word Count: 1K

Prompt: 46: “Why are you staring at me?” “Because I think you’re beautiful.”

Summary: In the quiet early hours at Avengers Tower, you’re caught off guard when Bucky Barnes, unexpectedly complimenting your natural beauty, makes you question your insecurities. His sincere words begin to dissolve your self-doubt, leaving you feeling seen and appreciated, just as you are.

It was still early in the morning when you stumbled into the kitchen of Avengers Tower, eyes barely open, a yawn escaping your lips. You were dressed in oversized shorts and a baggy shirt, your messy hair in a loose knot on top of your head. The lack of makeup and the sleepiness in your eyes made you feel more self-conscious than you’d like to admit, but it didn’t stop you from heading straight for the coffee machine.

You hadn’t expected to be greeted by anyone at this hour. Most of the Avengers were early risers, but you knew they all had their routines, and this was your time to just exist in peace before the chaos of the day began. You filled your mug with the dark liquid and leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the kitchen island as you waited for the caffeine to kick in. The quiet hum of the Tower was comforting.

You weren’t expecting someone else to be there at this hour. But then you heard it: a low voice coming from the doorway.

"Morning."

You blinked in surprise, glancing over to see Bucky standing in the doorway, his hair a little unkempt, and wearing a simple T-shirt and sweatpants. He was one of the few people who could make a casual outfit look effortlessly good, and you tried not to notice the way his gaze lingered on you.

“Hey,” you mumbled, slightly caught off guard by his presence. You shifted uncomfortably, adjusting your posture and looking back down at your coffee. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of your appearance, but there was something about Bucky’s quiet intensity that made you feel… exposed.

You could feel him staring at you, his gaze heavy on the back of your neck. His presence was always intimidating, but it felt different now—more personal, more lingering. You shifted awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Why are you staring at me?” you asked, trying to mask the insecurity creeping into your voice. Your hands wrapped around your mug a little tighter as you took a small sip, avoiding his eyes.

Bucky’s gaze never wavered. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, still as quiet as ever. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he didn’t look away.

“Because I think you’re beautiful.”

His words hit you like a jolt of electricity, leaving you stunned and unsure of how to respond. Your heart raced a little, caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief. No one had ever said anything like that to you, especially not when you felt like you were looking at your least polished self. You opened your mouth, trying to form words, but nothing came out. It felt as if the air between you had suddenly thickened, the distance between the two of you narrowing in a way that made everything else fade away.

Bucky, noticing your hesitation, seemed to soften, his smile lingering. He took a step forward, though he kept a comfortable distance, and you could feel his eyes tracing your features.

Before you could say anything, there was a sound from behind him. The rest of the team had entered the kitchen, Sam, Steve, and Natasha, all talking among themselves. It was a little distracting, and the sudden noise helped you regain some composure. You pulled your gaze away from Bucky and tried to act casual, but your heart was still pounding in your chest.

“Morning, guys,” you muttered, focusing on stirring your coffee.

“Look who’s up early,” Sam teased, throwing a playful wink in your direction. You gave him a tight smile, still feeling a little awkward, but grateful for the distraction.

“Coffee, huh?” Natasha asked, nodding at your mug. “Good idea.”

Steve, meanwhile, was exchanging a few words with Bucky, but the older soldier was unusually quiet. You noticed him glance at you again when Sam and Natasha started talking about something else. It was subtle, but his attention was unmistakable, and it made you fidget in your seat.

You tried to shake it off, but every time Bucky looked at you, the small flutter in your chest returned.

As the conversation continued around you, you found yourself caught between trying to remain calm and trying not to overthink what Bucky had said. His words echoed in your mind, and despite your usual self-assurance, the insecurity gnawed at you. How could he think you were beautiful? You weren’t even dressed up, and your hair was a mess. It felt like a compliment that was too big, too out of reach, for someone like you.

Finally, after a few more quiet moments, Bucky took a deep breath and seemed to step closer to you, his voice low and steady.

“Hey,” he said, making sure you looked up at him. “I meant it.”

You blinked, still caught in the whirlwind of your thoughts. “What?”

“That I think you’re beautiful,” Bucky said again, his tone firm, but this time there was no teasing, no hesitation. Just sincerity. “Even like this. Especially like this.”

His words hit you harder than the first time, and your chest tightened. It was one thing for him to say it, but another to actually believe it. You felt your face flush, unsure of how to respond, but you didn’t have to. Bucky, as quiet as ever, seemed content to simply stand there, waiting for you to take in what he had said.

The rest of the team continued their conversation, but it was like a distant hum now. Everything faded in the background except for Bucky’s steady gaze and his soft, honest words.

“Thanks,” you whispered, feeling your insecurities start to melt away just a little bit. “I… I needed to hear that.”

Bucky’s smile was small but genuine, and this time when he spoke, there was a softness to his voice that you hadn’t heard before. “You don’t need to hear it from anyone else, (Y/N).”

And for the first time that morning, the weight of your self-consciousness felt just a little bit lighter.

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Yuu has the audacity to ask a question. It leads to some interesting moments  

Jade Leech, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit, Floyd Leech

Jade Leech 

“Jade, can I ask you a question?” It’s not often that the library is so packed that you end up sharing a table but if it had to be with anybody, at least it was Jade.  

Jade wasn’t naturally academically smart. He took a lot of notes and studied in order to come out in the middle. There were folks that thought he was simply keeping his head down, but Yuu found out by accident. She knew Jade was incredibly street smart and people savvy though, no matter what grades he got. It worked in her favor though, as Jade let them copy notes from last year in exchange for not sharing the information anywhere. Not that Yuu planned too, but they weren’t going to pass up such an opportunity either.  

“Of course, I will assist in anyway I can.”  

“Do you have any books that you would recommend for scavenging for local flora and fauna in the woods back at Ramshackle? I’ve tried searching through the library but it’s a bit too vague for what I need.”

If Yuu had blinked, they would have missed the brief surprise and delight on his face.  

“Well,” he sets his pen down, “As the president of the Mountain Lovers club, I’m sure we could discuss that during our meetings. If only you were a member.” he sighed  

“If only Crowley would allow me to join any clubs.” Yuu muttered, “I know it's a requirement for first and second years to be involved in at least one, but he says I have far more to offer as his unofficial assistant. Unpaid is more accurate but what do I know.”  

Jade smiles, the one that matches his brothers. Wide and full of teeth.  

“Leave Crowley to me, dear Prefect. You just meet me in the morning behind Ramshackle. Bring a basket and your camera, oh, and dress warm. It'll be cold for you.”  

He writes some extra instructions on a slip of paper and collects his things, turning left at the library doors. Damn, that was straight to the headmasters’ office too. Jade really doesn't play around when it comes to the Mountain Lover's club.

While Yuu isn’t able to attend every meeting, the Mountain Lover’s club apparently includes trips to other countries, recipes cooked in the Ramshackle kitchen as well as appreciating cultures and crafts made by various peoples which slowly starts to decorate the rickety dorm into something interesting and unique. Jade becomes a different person as a traveler and seems to find joy in just exploring and discovering all the different ways that people create and eat and live.  

After he graduates, Yuu gifts him the book that the two of them created, with pictures and descriptions of all the Night Raven College fauna and flora, their uses, if they are edible, and different recipe and potion ingredients, the regions it comes from, and even snippets of stories and memories they share.  

Jade is not an emotional man, but when he asks you to come with him on his next expedition, his smile is full of joy.  

Rook Hunt

“Rook, can I ask you a question?”  

Rook looks down from his spot in the tree, a camera perched in his hands. “Amazing eyesight, Mon Trickster! I did not anticipate being found. Ask away, but be quick, less Roi de Lion suspects me.”  

“Are there any plays or poetry books that would be good for a beginner? I read a lot back home but I know there is cultural and historical context I'm going to be missing-” 

“I am so happy!” he practically drops the tree, taking both of her hands to kiss the knuckles, “I would be happy to help you. Come, come!”  

Oh, they are going to the library now. Right now. Ok, Yuu should have expected that.  

Rook is always excitable, but he’s mindful as well. Picking out smaller volumes at first, and adding some reference materials, putting a few back as he asks questions about what she has already read or what she typically enjoys. He also writes out a list for audio books and radio performances. Thank the Seven that Crowley finally got them a phone and they could excuse the data usage for school.  

“I have the films I would be willing to lend, but I would ask you be incredibly careful.”  

“Oh, I don’t have a TV or any type of DVD player at Ramshackle. We try and keep the places as authentic as possible. It helps when the ghosts come to visit on Hallow’s eve.” They don’t have wifi either and their electricity runs off a backup generator, but Yuu doesn’t mention that. They are distinctly aware of how rundown Ramshackle is, but they try not to advertise how badly.  

“What dedication you have to your dorm and the history of Night Raven College. We may do so in Pomefiore!”  

And that’s how they end up having movie night basically every Wednesday night, sometimes with other Pomefiore members or even Vil himself refreshing on the classics. Rook would sit close by, quietly explaining certain contexts and even joining Yuu on reading through some of the poetry books. His passion comes out more with his knowledge than his speech in those moments, and it’s...nice. Normally Rook is the most reserved person she knows. He’s family is still a mystery, but she’s learned more about his beliefs and insights into how he perceives life in general. 

“This is how I met Roi de Poison, you know. He enchanted me at first sight, but his mind...he understood my passion for theater, music and beauty. He respected me, once I proved that I loved him for more than his looks and roles.”  

Crazy fan he might have been in the past, it was definitely more of an equal relationship once you saw past the surface level. Yuu eventually started picking a few habits and fashion tips, slowly becoming a bit more refined. Elegant even, she might say.  

When she hesitantly asks for help with other things, it's easier each time. Help with skincare routines, or experimenting with make-up, what colors work best and how silhouettes come across. It’s never been this fun to experiment with her style. It helps that Rook, while thinking certain things definitely work, will be gentle in the things that aren’t.  

“They do not enhance your beauty,” he says, sounding like Vil, “And you are already magnifique.”  

He is the first person that she shares her book of stories with, the precognitions that she has  

“Do you think fairy tales are fiction?” He asks her, quietly skimming over the passages of Snow White. The Fairest Queen is barely mentioned, but without her, there is no story.  

“Living here feels like a fairy tale, but if it is, you’ve made it a wonderful dream.”  

Rook looks at her, a surprised chuckle slipping out. Before he can hide it, his nose crinkles, a smile wide enough to show his gums, and Yuu thinks it enhances all the best of him.  

Vil Schoenheit 

“Vil, may I ask you a question?” 

“At least somebody paid attention when I went over manners. You may.” Vil says, as he adds in some sort of lilac powder. Normally, they wouldn’t have any classes together, but with Yuu acting as an ‘assistant’ towards the teachers to make extra cash, they got to see the second and third years more than even the other first years in their dorms.  

“How do you make time for it all? Between the acting jobs, getting good grades in school, indulging in potionology and homebrew makeup in your limited free time, it seems like you get so much done with just as much time as the rest of us.”  

“Thank you for noticing.” Vil says, looking up from his potion work. “And yes, I do keep a very organized schedule. Every minute is planned and my down time is spent decompressing efficiently.”  

“Is there any articles or techniques you would recommend? Or a template you used?” 

“You could just ask me for help, you know.” he retorts, huffing a bit.  

“I know I could, but I also want to be respectful of what you have on your plate.”  

“Ah, potato...I have plenty of time, especially in this season. I don’t schedule anything this close to finals. Come sit with me this evening for dinner and we will talk goals and progress markers. There is more to this mentally than most people think.”  

Vil is a bit less than impressed when he sees just how much Yuu accomplishes for Night Raven College with no credit and makes a note to talk to the teachers and Crowley about getting her properly compensated or at least. But overall, it goes well, making time for exercise, hobbies, studies and even some time with him. Telling her about the techniques he used and actually practicing them were two different things, and some things are just easier to show rather than tell.  

“Alright, let’s start here.”  

Mindfulness, ironically for somebody outside Scarabina, is important to Vil. Sinking fully into the experience of his daily life, looking at all the colors, enjoying his foods with no screens, or just enjoying the quiet while he removes makeup. His decompress is like a valve that he releases in minutes throughout the day, not hours at the end of it.

“This takes practice. Don’t discourage yourself if you don’t get it every time, eventually it will come more naturally.”  

And it does. Over the months, Yuu feels more productive than ever, even finding time to wonder about her own style. It is a bit embarrassing when Vil enters Ramshackle to use the Guest Room to study and sees her hastily trying to wash off eyeshadow. 

“Oh, spudling, not your color. No, no, here.” He sits, and teaches, a bit harshly at times, but he wouldn’t be Vil if he wasn’t direct. Much like Riddle, he fully believes that people can reach his level, and sees no reason why they shouldn’t. And while Yuu will never be Vil pretty, she certainly feels more beautiful and confident now than she ever has before.  

It isn’t until Vil is reviewing one of his performances that Yuu makes a comment, some offhand remark about the script not quite matching the vernacular expected for the period, that he invites her to sit and review more.  

Yuu doesn’t think it’s anything spectular, it’s kind of obvious, but apparently it wasn’t to the rest of the audience.  

Vil sits at thier usual tea table in the Night Raven Gardens, and slides a ticket over to her.  

“If you have time. I know you recently picked up a few photography jobs in town that would be a shame to miss. Rapport with clients is key, you know.”  

It’s the red-carpet event to a 5th year anniversary movie he did as a child. All glitz and glam, showing just how much they have grown as actors and people since their debuts. It’s a milestone even for Vil, the first and only role where he was played a supporting role that wasn’t a villain or antagonist.  

“What colors are you wearing? I might have something that compliments.” Yuu asks, already going through their mind for anything suitable in Ramshackle.  

“Well,” Vil preens, opening his laptop. “We will just have to buy something together to ensure we match, won’t we? When are you free?” 

It’s so small Yuu almost misses it, but hidden underneath his painted blush is a heated blush, quiet and pink and delighted.  

Floyd Leech

“Floyd, can I ask you a question?”   

Floyd doesn’t even bother looking up from his spot at the table, “Better not be a boring question Shrimpy, or I’ll squeeze ya~” 

“Where do you go to get your shoes repaired?”  

His head snaps up just a bit, left eye brighter than usual.  

“Ace had mentioned that your sole had torn during practice,” Yuu continues, feeling like they have to explain themselves with how intensely he was staring, “But the next day it had been stitched back on like new. There are some fantastic leather boots from the old NRC uniforms that I'd love to use, but I’m trying to find somebody who won’t butcher them or tell me they aren’t repairable just cause there old or out of style, you know?”  

Floyd nods, eyes still searching before ultimately just shrugging his shoulders. “Hmmm...at least it wasn’t boring. Meet at Monstro Lounge at 6 lil’ Shrimpy, bring the shoes!”  

He walks away before Yuu can even say that they have to meet with somebody else, but that really isn’t a possibility when a Leech brother has demanded your attention. Looks like you’ll have to reschedule with Deuce.  

The Monstro Lounge is fairly steady, though Yuu has never seen it slow. Always some sort of deal or exclusive that sets these rich bastards running through the doors, even if it’s just so they don’t have to deal with the lines in the cafeteria or cook their own food.  

Jade waves you in, taking the box from your hands in a gentlemanly manner, and leading you to the side. Floyd is quick to intercept, mumbling a thank you before his long strides leave you almost jogging.  

“Alright, let’s see what we are working with.”  

The dorm is clearly shared between him and Jade. Crisp white walls, a seashell and sea motif on the desk and headboard and some floating shelves that look vaguely like drift wood, exactly what she expected from Octanvinelle. But that’s about all the two sides have in common. Jade’s is organized, of course, but notable is the terrariums on the shelves and a stack of geology books tucked into the corner, along with photos of places he may have been or plans to go.

Floyd’s half is a mess, yes, but it’s organized chaos, like looking at Ace and Deuce’s dorm. High protein snacks are tucked on the shelves, completed 3D puzzles, and...fashion magazines? Huh, he did say that merpeople didn’t really have a reason to wear clothes so land peoples being so obsessed with it would be interesting, especially in different regions or cultures. And the trends are constantly changing. It actually started fitting, the more Yuu thought about it.  

Floyd set the box on the desk, picking up the shoes and bending them this way and that, pressing on the heel or pinches the toe.  

“You’ve taken good care of them,” He says, “The stitches are loose and the nails need to be hammered back in, but the leather is clean and strong. I’d get some new leather laces though, the wax on these has completely frayed from misuse. How old are these?”  

“They're from back when Ezra and the others went to school, but they don’t have a great concept of time.” Floyd raises an eyebrow. “Oh, the ghosts at Ramshackle.”  

“Huh, no wonder it felt like the place was trying to kick us out.” Floyd walks over to the walk-in closet and Yuu has to double take. She would have mistaken the closet for Jade’s! On the left, the clothes are hung neatly on the rack except for the everyday items like the basketball or school uniform which have their own spots hung neatly on the door itself. Below that are clear boxes that seem to hold all sort of tools. Are these hobbies that Floyd has picked up and gotten bored with?

But the right side of the walk in closet is just racks and racks of shoes. Wing tip dress, loafers, even a few kitten heels and red backed stiletos. All perfectly shined and displayed.  

“Floyd, you repair your own shoes?” Yuu taking the box he hands her.

“When you are as tall as me and Jade, you end up having to customize and fix a lot of your own clothes, unless you wanna pay some stupid prices, and standing there while they pin and stuff is boring. I’d rather just do it myself.” He takes out a wicked looking needle and a stand, securing it to the desk with a flick of a lever. “Which pair is your size?”  

“Oh, these.” she says, picking up a pair of loafers and ankle boots. “I can’t afford for you to do this for me Floyd. I don’t have the funds right now.” 

He just leans against the table with a laugh, “Oh, I aint doin’ it for free. Your gonna pay me by letting me keep a pair, specifically those.”

He points to the bottom of the box, a pair of thigh high riding boots from what she can tell.  

“Those are the ones in the worst shape?”  

“Oh, I won’t be able to get them to their original form, but I can lengthen the sole and toe area a bit, add a heel, and have a wicked pair of thighs high stilettos that’ll have even Betta fish jealous~” 

“With your legs, you’d look really good in a skirt.”  

They both blink.  

“Shit, sorry, my mouth ran-” Floyd laughs, something softer than usual.  

“Your damn right Shrimpy.” He smiles, “I do look damn good in a skirt. I prefer dresses though.”  

He takes a seat, motioning for her to take the other side, sets the shoe inside the stand, and starts explaining the process. It doesn’t always make sense but he’s clearly passionate about it.  

This might be a truer version of him, Yuu thinks, seeing him carefully take out a rusted nail to pull out a fresh silver one from an even smaller box. One that isn’t bored or moody, but just...getting able to do something that actually interests him.  

“Hey Floyd. Do you want to go thrifting with me and Kalim on Sunday? I think you’d have some interesting things to say about some of the finds, especially the clothes mart. They literally have a bin of vintage pieces for a dollar a piece.”  

He leans back, and does that smile again. All teeth but his eyes relax, all boyishly charming.  

“You got all the audacity in the world, don’t you?” He chuckles, “I’ll get my shift covered.”