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potatoplace · 2 months ago

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I Hate It Here

ACOTAR x Archeron!Reader

The Afterthought: Chapter 2 | series masterlist

part one | part three | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: You are brought back to Velaris against your will, and forced to stay in the city by your supposed family. You slip into old memories and imaginings of the life you could be living whenever able, terrified of your new situation.

Warnings: suicidal ideation, slight disordered eating, toxic family, shitty Inner Circle, mentions of slut-shaming uhhh I don't think there's anything else

Words: 6.7k

Author's Note: it's heeere I'm so excited for this part! I hope you guys all like it, I know I made a few... choice decisions in certain places lol. Poor girly with the bathtub 😫 but the ending in this part is not near as sad as it was going to be. Hope you like iiiit 🫶

18+ only pls

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You weren't sure how long you had been walking, hardly registering where you were going when he appeared in front of you.

Azriel.

You shook your head at him. You wouldn't consent to going anywhere with him.

Feyre would be the next to accuse you of being a whore if you did...

"Come with me, Y/N. You're going to freeze to death out here," Azriel said quietly, extending a hand to you.

"No. I don't belong there."

He let out a long sigh. "You belong with your sisters. Just come with me. Feyre is worried."

"Feyre is..." You scoffed. "Feyre is worried? Was she worried when I didn't show up for dinner that everyone was at? Or only when I was no longer in that city? Because from where I'm standing, no one in that city has cared for me in months. So no, I don't belong with my sisters. I belong with humans. Now let. Me. Leave," you hissed at him, legs already moving to walk past him and continue your journey.

"You'll die tonight, if you don't come back," Azriel informed you, as though you hadn't already realized that.

"And the world would be just the same without me in it."

Another long, heavy sigh from behind you- then arms were wrapped around your middle, holding you tight as you fought against him with all of your pathetic, human strength. You managed to rip a nail through his wing, causing him to hiss in pain and drop you. Before you could make your way to your feet, he had you in his arms again, this time carrying you through the swirling void of night that accompanied him at all times.

A moment later you were back in that house, in the middle of the living room where the rest of the inner circle was sitting, all eyes on you.

Azriel's arms dropped from your waist in an instant, the warmth of his body leaving your side as he took his place, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.

"What were you thinking?" Feyre asked angrily as she stood from her spot on a couch next to Rhys. "Do you have any idea of what could have happened to you tonight?"

"Do I-" you shook your head. "Of course I know what could have happened to me, I'm just a human. Any single person in Prythian could kill me if they wanted to."

"So why did you leave?" Rhys asked quietly, in a tone that you knew meant danger.

You turned your eyes back to Feyre, doing your best to ignore her mate who still terrified you. "Do you remember what day it is, High Lady?"

Feyre looked confused for a moment, before understanding filled her eyes. "Oh, Y/N... I... I forgot. We were celebrating finally getting the Illyrians to let females train whenever they want," she explained, but you weren't buying it.

"Oh, well that's fine. You forget the day that I spent over a week preparing for, the entire day cooking for, all to celebrate something that just happened. Did you once think to find me? To invite me to this celebration?" Feyre's silence was enough of an answer for you. "I don't belong here. You should have left me in the human lands, thinking you all died. I would have been happier that way. Nesta and Elain hate me, I cannot speak to Lucien or Cassian out of fear that their mates will kill me, the rest of you ignore me unless I've done something wrong. I do not belong here," you hissed, doing your best to throw all of your hurt and rage into your words.

"You do belong here, Y/N," Feyre said tearily. "You're our sister."

You stared down at her coldly. "Am I? From where I'm standing I am just a weakness for you that you keep close so you won't be hurt. I haven't felt like your sister since I arrived."

"That's not tr-" Feyre started, but you cut her off.

"Take me back."

"What?" Nesta asked sharply from behind you, and you could feel her anger rising, the hairs on your arms standing up.

"Take me back to the human lands. I would rather live alone in poverty than spend one more day living in this place."

"You will not," Nesta snarled, a hand clawing at your shoulder. "You would die within a week with the wall down."

"I managed just fine on my own for three months before Feyre came to get me."

"Nesta is right, Y/N," Rhys said, drawing your eyes back to him. "You will not leave Velaris. Anywhere else is too dangerous for you to be, with your connection to us."

Rage flooded your system like it never had before at the thought of being kept here until you die. "I will not be kept like some prisoner in this city. I refuse."

"You have no choice," Feyre said softly, the final nail in the coffin.

"Then kill me," you said, fully hoping that they would. "Kill me and put me out of my misery, if I am not able to leave this horrible place. I do not belong here, and I do not want to belong here anymore."

Tears were pouring down Feyre's face at your confession, the last sight you saw before you slipped into darkness.

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When you woke, your body was warm, resting underneath blankets on a comfortable bed.

You could almost imagine that you were back in that hut, surrounded by your sisters as you huddled for warmth.

But it was wrong... your face was too warm, no longer chilled by the slight breeze that rattled through the house in winter, and there was no soft, quiet breathing from your sisters sleeping.

You opened your eyes, met with the familiar pale blue ceiling of your bedroom. You would guess it was the early morning, with how dark it was.

What happened...?

It was difficult, getting your brain to remember how you ended up in your bed... After all, you had hardly slept in it ever since Elain had snapped at you so many months ago, the idea of another door keeping you safe too comforting to not indulge in.

But once you remembered... ice cold terror flooded your body.

You had been in the middle of yelling at Feyre- at all of them. And suddenly now you were in your bed?

Rhysand had used his powers on you.

And you were helpless to stop it.

You turned onto your side and curled into yourself for a moment, hoping that making yourself smaller would be enough to loosen the fear gripping your heart. After a minute, you gave up, standing from your bed and pulling a thick blanket and soft pillow with you into the bathroom, making your safe little nest in the bathtub.

The blanket and pillow you had used last were still there, adding extra cushion and much needed warmth to the metal tub.

So you curled up, a pillow at your back and your knees pulled to your chest as you huddled under one blanket and pulled the edges of the bottom one up, cocooning yourself in soft cotton.

Sleep found you easily, your body and mind exhausted still from the disappointment and realizations of last night.

Your dreams were filled by half memories, half imaginings of being back in that little run down cottage, your sisters and father around you as you huddled in front of the fire, drinking hot water from chipped mugs.

"Y/N?" Feyre's voice asked, waking you from your sleep. You raised your head for a moment, considering answering her. But your recent interactions with her had you placing your head back on its pillow, tucking your knees further against your chest, ignoring the way your body had started to ache. She knocked on the bathroom door once, twice. "Just... come out when you're ready, Y/N. There's breakfast downstairs if you'd like." Feyre sighed, loud enough for even your ears to hear, but walked away, leaving you in blissful silence.

You let yourself drift off again, conjuring images of you curled up in front of the fire, your head in your father's lap just how he'd let you when you were a child.

The next time you woke, your bladder forced you awake, and by the time you had relieved yourself the muscles in your body were screaming for some kind of movement. You walked around your room for a few minutes and stretched your body, sighing as some of the tension left it.

All too soon, your stomach was growling at you, angry with you for having ignored it for... however long you had been asleep.

Sighing, you moved back to the bathroom and disassembled your makeshift bed, replacing the fabrics where they initially belonged so that you could bathe before going downstairs.

The last thing you wanted was for Nesta and Elain to make snide comments at you.

You tied your hair up in a bun- you didn't feel like going through the effort of washing it at the moment. After drawing the bath, tendrils of steam coming from the water, you stripped yourself of the pink dress you had worn for Bounty Day and slipped into the water. Your muscles eased quickly, the heat of the bath drawing out the stress they carried.

You nearly fell asleep again, and if not for the gnawing of your stomach you would have let yourself, as the tub had an enchantment to keep the water warm until emptied. But you forced yourself to wash, using a soft cloth and a lovely lavender and orange soap bar that you had picked out a few months ago while shopping for Nesta's birthday.

Once you deemed yourself clean enough, you stood from the bath, nearly slipping as you stepped out. A disappointed sigh left your lips and you shook your head at your foolish, human clumsiness.

You dried off quickly and padded back into your bedroom. You slipped on a simple white cotton dress, and a pale pink dressing robe over the top. After putting on your slippers, you stood in front of the door, steeling yourself for whatever you would face outside of your room. A deep breath in, then out, and you opened the door, stepping into the hallway.

The walk to the kitchen was quick, and it was blissfully empty when you entered. You set about making a pot of tea for yourself, bringing water to a boil in a kettle on the stove. While it was heating up, you grabbed one of the trays used for when someone wanted breakfast in bed and placed a teapot and cup on it, as well as a bowl.

You looked around the kitchen, scrunching your face at the options available. Your eyes caught on the windows looking out to the garden, noting the stars in the sky.

Just how long had you slept for...?

Shaking your head, you turned back to the bowl of fruit sitting on the counter. Your hands reached for an apple almost big enough in size that you couldn't grasp it.

You grabbed a small cutting board from a cabinet and a knife out of the block, then washed the apple before setting it on the board. The kettle was just starting to whistle, and you removed it from the heat before it could wake anyone sleeping upstairs. After you measured out a small amount of tea leaves into the teapot's helpful strainer, you poured enough water in to make at least three cups of tea. You were making a soothing lavender and chamomile blend, one that never failed to send you to a dreamless sleep after having a few cups.

Leaving it to steep, you returned to the cutting board, carefully cutting the apple into small slices. Once it was cut, you placed the slices into the bowl on your tray, then washed the cutting board and knife, leaving them in the drying rack.

You removed the strainer from the teapot after deeming it to be strong enough, and emptied the leaves into the trash before washing it as well.

All that was left was to carry your bounty upstairs, without waking a soul.

Tray in your arms, you made your way back up the stairs and into your bedroom, letting out a small sigh of relief once you had closed the door behind you. The tray was placed on your desk, and you took your seat.

The first pour of tea was always your favorite, as it was always at the perfect temperature. You brought the steaming cup of tea to your lips, closing your eyes as you took the first soothing sip, letting the warmth of it wash over you.

The apple was delicious, crisp and sweet and tasting of autumn. You made sure to savor the taste- you weren't sure when you would next venture out of your room, seeing as you were still terrified to see any who would be in the River House.

Even your sisters... Though Feyre was the main change, you supposed, seeing as she had let her mate use his powers on you, when she had promised that neither she or Rhys would ever do so.

Your second cup of tea was still warm and soothing as you finished off the apple, but when you got to the third and final cup, it was only lukewarm.

A problem that any of your sisters would surely be able to solve...

By the time you finished your tea, you were tired enough to fall back sleep, but first you forced yourself to return to the kitchen, feet stepping carefully on your journey to stay undiscovered. You washed your dishes quickly and returned the tray to its rightful place, then made your way back upstairs.

Your door was shut behind you, another successful mission in avoiding those you once considered family.

The bathtub had dried, and you brought your blankets and pillows back in with you, reassembling your makeshift bed once again. Your crawled between the blankets, content to stay between them forever as warmth cocooned you. Your mind drifted, once again conjuring scenes of you living with father once more, tending to your little herb garden and cooking to your hearts content.

Two weeks- or perhaps more- passed in the same manner, with Feyre knocking on your bathroom door every morning or so and waking you from your slumber. In the nights you would crawl from your blankets and return to the kitchen for a pot of tea and whatever fruit or vegetables were available and easy enough to eat without cooking.

Your stomach had protested loudly for the first week before settling back into the cold, quiet hunger that your body had adapted to for most of its life.

One morning, your solitude was broken by Morrigan pounding on your bedroom door, jolting you from your sleep and driving fear into your heart.

"Come to the door, Y/N, or I won't leave!" She yelled from behind the wood, persistent knocks following her words.

You sighed and turned your head back into your pillow, determined to ignore her.

"I brought you tea! Please just come to the door, Y/N? You can tell me to leave and take the tea, even," the fae offered, and your stomach rumbled in response.

Tea... wouldn't be bad, you thought to yourself.

But you hadn't bathed...

Morrigan's knocking only grew louder as you debated with yourself, fear and hunger warring in your mind.

"Y/N!"

You grumbled to yourself as you rose from your spot, shouting "I'll be right there!" when her knocking somehow continued to increase in volume. You opened the bathroom door and headed to your wardrobe, tugging a dressing gown over your nightgown.

Turning the door's handle was difficult, fear of the unknown still lingering in your gut, but the blonde on the other side of the door was in fact holding a tray of tea when you finally managed to open the door.

"Good morning!" Morrigan chirped, a bright smile on her face as she met your eyes. Her warm chocolate eyes seemed genuine, allowing some of the tension in your body to leave as you looked at the tray.

A pot of tea, two cups, and a plate of diced fruit, cheeses, and smoked meats.

She obviously wanted to join you... And she had been kind enough to bring you not only tea but food as well. That made up your mind.

"Would you like to come in?" You asked quietly, stepping aside to let her into your bedroom.

"I would love to, thank you Y/N." Morrigan breezed in and placed the tray on top of your bed before taking a seat on one side, feet pulled up so she was sitting with her legs folded in front of her.

You shut the door and followed her, taking a seat on the opposite side while she poured tea into a cup. She handed one to you first, warmth instantly flowing into your fingers, before pouring her own.

You took a small sip, closing your eyes at the bright taste of mint and ginger. "I... Thank you, Morrigan."

"Oh, call me Mor, Y/N. And it was really no trouble, I've..." She paused. "I've wanted to talk to you, check in on you after everything that happened. I know that we haven't talked much, since you came to Velaris, but I would like to change that. I know what it is like to feel so out of place that you can barely fathom living... I know how difficult it can be, when you don't have the support you need," Mor confessed. "I do wish I had noticed how uncomfortable you felt, before you had to tell us so bluntly."

Tears pricked your eyes as she talked. You wished it had been the same, as well.

"It isn't your fault, Mor..." you sighed. "You don't have the same... Not responsibility to me, but the past connection. And it is not as though you were the one to bring me here."

Mor gave you a sad smile, her eyes understanding. "I know, but you are a part of this family, and you are supposed to feel like you are as well."

You nodded your head in agreement, though you didn't quite agree. You felt... You felt as though your family had been lost to you, long before you came to Velaris.

The two of you sipped on your tea in a comfortable silence for a while, your eyes darting down to the small spread of food frequently, until your stomach made its discomfort known. Loudly.

Instead of Mor reprimanding you for it, or telling you to eat, she simply began eating herself- something you were grateful for. You followed her lead, slowly eating a few pieces of what she had brought up. Between the food and the several cups of tea, your stomach felt pleasantly warm and full, more than it had been in a long while.

"I have an idea, if you're up for it," Mor offered once the two of you had finished both the tea and food, her brown eyes looking at you hopefully.

"What did you have in mind?" You asked, mind already wandering to what she might ask you. Maybe a favor for Feyre, to get you to talk with her?

"I have a little skincare routine that I do every morning, and even though your skin is absolutely gorgeous as is, I thought that maybe you would like to join me? It's one of the few things that helps me feel a bit better when I'm having a rough day."

You blinked at her for a moment, the idea of her wanting to spend more time with you not having crossed your mind.

"I... I'm not sure that I would be any good at it..."

"Oh, nonsense! It's pretty simple, and I'll help you out with it. And if you hate it, we can stop at any point. Please?" She asked with so much sincerity that you nodded in agreement. The smile on her face when you did made you feel nice, and like she wasn't being forced into spending time with you.

"Yay!" Mor cheered. "I'll be back with everything in a few minutes. Do you want me to bring another pot of tea as well?" Mor asked, a sparkle in her eyes.

"If it's not any trouble for you, please," you replied, eyes tracking her as she stood from your bed and brought the tray back into her arms.

"Of course it isn't, Y/N. I'll be back in a little bit, okay?"

You nodded, and stood from the bed to open the door for her, shutting it softly behind her.

So far... This morning was nice. Mor is nice.

She returned in a few minutes, a fresh pot of tea and her supplies on the tray.

Over the next hour, she helped you cleanse and moisturize your skin, doing the same herself. You felt silly at first wearing the clay mask that she had spread over your face, but seeing Mor in it as well made you feel giggly, the two of you laying on your bed and talking about clothes. She made you promise to let her take you shopping once you felt ready to leave the house again, and you had her promise to teach you to do your makeup- though in softer colors than the bold reds and black that she preferred.

You drank most of the second pot of tea, happily consuming it, and along with the pleasant company of Mor, you were feeling warmer and more alive than you had since Bounty Day.

"So... Do you feel a little better?" Mor asked after you had both rinsed your faces and applied one last layer of moisturizer, this one smelling of strawberries.

You thought about it for a moment- you felt lighter than you had in months. "I do. Thank you again, Mor. This was really nice," you said, a small smile on your lips as you looked at her.

"Good, I'm glad. If you want to do it again, say... Tomorrow, just let me know," Mor said with a bright grin on her face.

"I... I'd like that very much, Mor," you said sheepishly, still in slight disbelief that she wanted to spend time with you.

"I'll stop by at the same time tomorrow, then." Mor gathered her things and left your room, leaving you in silence once more.

As much as you had enjoyed her company, you felt... tired, now. You glanced out the window, noting that snow was falling on an already thick layer coating the ground and buildings below.

You hadn't known it had snown at all recently.

With a shake of your head, you brushed that thought off and returned to the bathroom, your blankets-

Oh gods, you thought to yourself. Did Mor notice?

You were slightly ashamed that you felt unsafe enough to sleep in the perfectly comfortable bed you had been given, but... You couldn't bring yourself to care enough to move back into the bedroom to sleep. Instead, you burrowed yourself into your blankets once again, telling yourself that someday you would sleep in the bed again.

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Your time with Mor the next morning became a daily occurrence for the next week, and a way for you to better tell the passing of time.

Feyre had stopped coming to your bathroom door every morning, replaced instead by the blonde that you were getting closer to considering a real friend.

One morning, you woke early enough to take a bath before Mor showed up at your door. You had just finished dressing when you heard arguing outside of your door.

"I will not ask her for you, Feyre. You can go in there and ask her yourself, but I am not going to use my friendship with her for your benefit. Once you work up the balls, come back. She might talk to you then," Mor said angrily to your sister.

That shocked you.

"I'm not trying to use-" Feyre paused. "Fine, I will come back later."

"Good. Now go away, I don't want you to scare her."

A few seconds later, Mor knocked on your door. You opened it, and found her carrying the usual- a pot of tea, plate of food, and plenty of her skincare products.

Besides her argument with Feyre, your morning together went as usual, and you had nearly forgotten about the incident until Mor was about to leave.

A knock on the door had both Mor's and your heads snapping to it.

Mor sighed. "I should be going, then, Y/N. Just... Hear her out, for a moment at least?"

Your scrunched your nose up but nodded. "Thank you, Mor. Will I see you tomorrow?"

Mor's head bobbed as she picked up her things. "Yes, but the next few days I'll be staying in the Hewn City, they tend to get a little more problematic the closer we come to Starfall," Mor explained.

Your heart sank a little bit, but you smiled at her anyways. "I hope it goes well. I know you don't enjoy being there much." You almost wished you could go with her, to be out of this city for a little while.

"Thank you, Y/N," Mor said with an appreciative smile. "Would you get the door?"

"Of course." You did so, opening it to see a nervous looking Feyre. Mor passed by her and headed down the hallway. "Would..." You hesitated. "Would you like to come in?"

Feyre smiled at you, one filled with tension. "I would, thank you." She followed you into your room, closing the door behind her and coming a few feet into the room, leaving at least your height's distance between you. "I wanted to speak with you about something- well, ask you something, more."

"Okay..."

"I- Would you be willing to come to dinner tomorrow night?"

You stared at her in confusion. "Why tomorrow?"

Feyre's brow furrowed at your question. "It's your birthday tomorrow."

Oh.

You had forgotten your own birthday. It didn't surprise you much, with how distant your mind had been recently. Only in the past week had you fully recognized the passage of time, thanks to Mor's visits each morning.

"Oh, uhm... I-" you paused. Dinner would mean... seeing Nesta and Elain and Rhys. "Uhm. Would... Who would be there...?"

"All of the Inner Circle, I think," Feyre replied, a frown on her face when she saw your own. "What's wrong?"

You were silent for a moment, trying to come up with something that wouldn't make you sound as weak as the truth. But nothing came to mind quickly enough, with Feyre still staring at you with her worried blue eyes.

"I'm... I'm afraid of Nesta and Elain... And Rhys," you admitted, looking at the floor.

Feyre sighed. "I'm sorry about what I had him do, Y/N. I really, truly am. You were just so panicked and talking-" Feyre paused to close her eyes, one tear making its way down her cheek. "Hearing you explain how you were feeling, I wanted you to have time to calm down some. I didn't... I didnt know how horribly you feel living here, Y/N."

It was your turn to sigh. "If... If you get Nesta and Elain to behave- or at least not say anything nasty to me- I will come to dinner."

"Really?" Feyre asked, her watery eyes looking into yours. "I was already able to convince Elain to bake a cake for you- your favorite, white chocolate raspberry. And Nuala and Cerridwen were more than happy to make your favorites."

Your heart lifted in your chest. "You really planned a dinner for me?" You asked hopefully, willing them to not be crushed.

"I did, Y/N. It's the least I could do, with everything I haven't been doing."

You nearly reached for her, to pull her into a hug. But-

You were still afraid, still upset at being kept in Velaris.

She would have to earn your trust back.

"Thank you, Feyre. I'll see you tomorrow night."

Feyre nodded at you, a small smile on her face. She turned to leave, but paused before she did, as though she wanted to say something else. Instead, she left your room, shutting the door softly behind her.

Dinner tomorrow...

You sighed. It will be fine. It has to be.

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The next morning, you woke with an awful cramping in your stomach, your body feeling slightly like you had the flu.

One use of the restroom proved that was not so.

Your cycle had come.

On your birthday. Just your luck.

Thankfully you had woken early enough that Mor was likely still sleeping, the sun's rays just barely peeking over the horizon.

You could take a bath. A nice, scalding bath to soothe the aches of your cycle. And you did just that, soaking in the water until the sun had risen.

Still, you felt dirty climbing out of the bath. Every cycle, you felt more and more disgusting with each vile look Nesta and Elain would throw at you.

Nesta and Elain... You would have to see them today.

Tears filled your eyes at the thought of dealing with them later.

At least you would still have your morning with Mor.

You finished dressing just before Mor arrived, tying your dressing gown as she knocked on your door.

"Good morning, Y/N," she said after you let her in, her arms filled with the usual fare. "Do you want a pain potion or anything, sweets?" Mor asked after she set the tray down on your bed.

"No, I'll manage fine," you said, still disappointed that everyone else can scent your cycle.

Mor nodded her head in understanding. "Well, if you change your mind, feel free to come to me for one. I know your cycles aren't quite like mine, but they're painful nonetheless. But for now, Y/N, I'd like to wish you a very happy birthday. Feyre says you're turning twenty?"

You bobbed your head in confirmation as the two of you took your seats on your bed. "Yes, we're just a few days under a year age difference." Mor poured out tea for the both of you, today it was your favorite lavender and chamomile blend. "Do you... Do you know what Feyre has planned for this evening?" You asked nervously.

If you knew what to expect, maybe it wouldn't be as bad.

"Well, there's the dinner, obviously, and I do believe that we all got you a gift- at least I did, and Elain made a delicious looking cake for you! I do think that's all, though, Feyre thought you wouldn't like a huge celebration right now."

"Feyre would be right... I'm nervous enough as it is..."

Mor smiled softly at you. "You know what will help with that?"

"What?"

"Doing our skincare! It'll get your mind off of tonight!"

You shook your head at her. "I should've guessed, Mor," you laughed, but followed her into the bathroom anyways.

And Mor was right, as she usually was.

The two of you dozed off on your bed while you had masks on, only waking up once Mor accidentally kicked you in her sleep.

The two of you were still giggly by the time she left your room, your spirits much higher thanks to the lovely blonde that had become your friend over the past week.

By the time dinner rolled around, you were cramping more than before, and feeling absolutely exhausted from keeping yourself awake all day.

You hadn't realized how tiring just being awake was, even with your mind traveling back to that little cottage for most of the day.

Still, you bathed once more, a quick one this time, and dressed in a modest, dark green dress.

Now the difficult part... Making it downstairs. In the daytime.

Your hand rested on the doorknob longer than you cared to admit, your body warring with your mind, knowing who was waiting downstairs.

You managed to get out of your room, very slowly making your way downstairs as dread filled your stomach.

Surely Feyre could get your sisters to behave for one night, right?

The dining room of the River House was packed when you finally entered, the entire Inner Circle being present along with Nuala and Cerridwen.

Good- two extra friendly faces could never hurt.

"Y/N!" Feyre exclaimed when she spotted you, and she quickly made her way over to you. Her hands clasped yours. "I'm so glad you came down, sissy," Feyre said, using the old nickname she had given you.

"Me too," you replied, only half meaning it.

"Well, dinner is just about ready if you want to take a seat. Mor and I saved a seat between us for you, if you'd like?" You nodded and let her lead you to your chair, which was next to an excitedly bouncing blonde.

"I can't wait to give you your presents, Y/N. I think that mine are the best!" She boasted.

Your nose crinkled as you smiled at her enthusiasm. "I'm sure everyone's presents are nice, Mor."

"Yes, but mine are the best. You'll see after dinner."

"I'm sure I will..." You said quietly, and it was then that you noticed the eyes on you.

All of the eyes on you.

Nesta was looking at you like she wanted to stab you, or perhaps burn you alive with her silver flames. Elain's look had less outright hatred, but hurt all the same.

Still, they said nothing.

Thankfully, Rhys's eyes looked more concerned than angry, as they had been the last time you had seen him.

You turned your eyes to your plate. White porcelain with delicate silver flowers painted onto the rim. Pretty.

"So, what all do you want?" Mor asked a few minutes later, drawing you back into the present.

You looked up and noticed that dinner had been served, all of your favorite dishes that Nuala and Cerridwen had made for you since you met them on the table.

"A little bit of everything...?" You said, unsure if that would be okay. No one stopped Mor from loading up your plate with a whole lot of everything, leaving you with a dauntingly full dish set in front of you.

There was no way you could eat all of that in one go, with the way you had been eating... Or rather, avoiding eating recently. The most consistent meals you had were your small breakfasts with Mor.

You resolved yourself to eat a small amount of each, and see how you feel then. After all, there was still Elain's best cake to have later.

The dinner was more pleasant than any you remembered, though you hardly spoke to anyone. Mor and Feyre seemed to have picked up on how anxious you were, both of them touching your arm or hand to draw you back to the moment when you stared at your plate too long.

But then it was time to retire to the living room, you seated on the couch across from the fireplace that you had avoided for so long now...

Gifts were given, more than you had anticipated.

Feyre, Elain, and Nesta had all gotten you cookbooks. Feyre's was of traditional Night Court recipes, your favorites marked with bookmarks. Elain had gotten you one on desserts of the Solar Courts. And Nesta had gotten you a book of soup recipes.

All of them would be thoughtful... If they had taught you to read.

Still, you smiled when you opened each one and said thank you, though your heart had sank lower at the reminder that they had forgotten your illiteracy, had forgotten that you barely knew your letters, if that.

Amren's present was next, a pretty set of pink opal jewelry. You smiled at the tiny fae, barely managing to meet her eyes. She was still... unsettling, though she had never done anything to you.

Then Rhys presented his, a book of human fables, explaining that Feyre had mentioned how much you had adored them as a child.

That much was true, but... It was the same problem as with the cookbooks. You thanked him but refused to meet his eyes.

Cassian was next, who had gotten you a box of sweets from the chocolate shop you had gone to a few times, all of them ones that you had ordered more than once. It was thoughtful enough, and you knew if he'd gotten a more personal gift, Nesta might have...

You didn't want to think about that.

Azriel was next after Mor told him that she would be presenting her presents last no matter what. He had gotten you a beautiful teapot and set of teacups, all enchanted to keep the tea at the perfect temperature for up to twelve hours. The bottom was a pale pink that faded into white at the top, with delicate irises painted on the sides. It was perfect.

Along with it, he presented you with a large box of different tea samples.

"Whichever ones you enjoy, let me know and I will buy you full sizes of them, alright?" Azriel asked after presenting you with it, and you nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Azriel."

There were at least ten teas you had never tried before, though these were all from a store that you had never been to.

To say you were excited for all of the new flavors would be an understatement.

Mor sighed after seeing his present. "Mine ties for first, I suppose... Here, Y/N," she said, handing over a large box to you.

You opened it, eyes widening at what was inside. It contained a beautiful pink bedding set, all of the fabric so soft to the touch you wanted to bury yourself in it the moment you felt it. There was a second blanket, one that was buttery soft and in a pale purple.

These would be a wonderful addition to your bedding.

"And... Here," Mor said as she gave you a large bag, this one filled to the brim with skincare and makeup products. "I wanted you to be able to keep up the routine, even while I'm gone. And I picked out some shades I thought would look pretty with your skin tone."

"Thank you, Mor." You leaned over to hug your friend who was seated next to you, so happy that she had thought of you so much.

"It's my pleasure, Y/N."

A few moments later, your presents were covered in shadows before disappearing, and you looked to Azriel.

"They're in your room, I thought it would be easier to have them taken up for you," was his answer. You nodded in acknowledgement.

"How about cake now?" Feyre said excitedly, clapping her hands together as she stood. "Elain, come help me?"

Elain started to follow Feyre, but as Feyre passed Cassian he held out a hand to stop her, nose tilted to the air.

"Feyre... Is...?" He took a few more deep sniffs. "Oh mother, are you pregnant?!" He asked, standing up and embracing her before she could confirm or deny.

"Oh, Feyre, congratulations!" Elain exclaimed, the next to hug her.

"Yes, yes, I'm pregnant," Feyre said shyly. "I wasn't planning to-"

"We have to celebrate!" Cassian announced, already pulling Feyre into the kitchen where everyone else followed.

You were excited for your sister, of course you were... But it stung, seeing the first time you had seen everyone in so long become a celebration of Feyre so quickly.

You said a quick congratulations to Feyre, though you weren't sure she heard you over the tenfold increased volume in the kitchen.

Then you made your way upstairs, back to your room, back to your bathtub.

At least you had a new blanket to keep you company, and new tea to have the next time you woke.

So you settled in, snuggling down into your now cozier makeshift bed. There was less fear in your heart, now that the obligation of seeing people was over. But the cramps were ripping through you, causing you to curl in tightly on yourself. Maybe you should have asked Mor for a potion after all...

Until you drifted off, you could hear them celebrating below, another reminder of how out of place you still feel.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao

ILIPW taglist: @darkbloodsly @angelbunny222 @uniquedreamsblog @romantasyreader28 @that-one-bibliophole @idkmyoldonewasembarassing @deathtopistachios @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @babypeapoddd

#I hate it here #i look in people's windows #the afterthought #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar x you #acotar x reader #angst #acotar x reader angst #acotar x you angst #toxic inner circle #inner circle bashing #mor is good tho!#mor is the best 🫶#morrigan #tato writes

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lovelettersfromluna · 2 months ago

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Under Your Spell

summary: what’s that old saying? Best way to get over someone is to get under…..yeah yeah, we all know where this going, don’t we?

an: Hi! Long time no see, huh? I hope you’ve all been doing well! I’ve missed it here a lot, more than you could ever know. The semester is over, and I’m finally free! (For a little bit). College is very hard, and it took a lot of me this year, but let’s not get into that right now. This chapter has been VERY long awaited, and I am so sorry that it’s taken this long to get to you all. This one is pretty short, but not only did I want to get it out to you all in time, but I also have lots planned for the next chapter! (Luna you’re putting four parts into one of your fics???) I know I know, shocker right? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this past despite it being short! Love you 🤍🤍🤍

warnings: MDNI!, 18+ fic only, slight smut, lots of angst, mean!Ellie, idiot!Ellie??, Abby’s in this one hehe, making out, drinking, let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1, Part 2

Sleeping in your bed had become extremely difficult.

It was like every time you laid your head against the soft pillows, your skin sliding against the soft material of your sheets, your brain would be filled with images of Ellie. The feeling of her lips on your throat, her hands on your hips, everything she’d given to you was permanently burned into your memory.

You couldn’t get away from her, no matter what you did.

You let out a soft sigh as you sat at your old desk, your cheek resting against your palm as your fingers traced along the smooth material of the wood. Things had gotten a lot trickier after your last night with Ellie, your mind clouded with confusion regarding the entire ordeal.

Ellie had….sought out for you. She definitely did the first time but there was something about her coming home from a night out, and slipping into your sheets that had your mind in shambles. It didn’t make any sense, you were sure that whatever happened between you and Ellie was a one off, something that was influenced mainly by alcohol and forced proximity. The played out story of the brother’s best friend ending up in a sticky situation with the younger sister. It was cliche, but it happened.

That didn’t change that it left your stomach in knots every time you heard the floorboards creak near Ellie’s room.

You’d done a pretty good job at avoiding her and the entire situation. It meant that you were in complete and total lockdown, even worse than before, however it saved any awkward tension, which you’d much rather trade for a few months of complete isolation.

But as all good things did, it was coming to an end.

Because you were given a choice, one that dangled your pride, and your social life in your face, forcing you to choose which you valued more.

Every summer, a huge party was thrown down at the beach. You and your brother joined as soon as you were old enough to drink, your parents went when they were younger, their parents went, and nearly everyone in your town experienced it at least once. It was like a tradition, one that every young person would look forward to.

It was one of your favorite parts about being home for the summer.

However, there wasn’t a party thrown in town that your brother and Ellie wouldn’t join.

And that’s where your choice came in.

You’d been going back and forth with yourself all week, weighing out the pros and the cons of it all. You knew that there were ways to get around her, to make sure that you wouldn’t see here while you were out there. To top it all off, you hated the idea of letting Ellie rip away one of your favorite things to do while you were home, giving her that much power didn’t make any sense to you.

But you still couldn’t push yourself to do it.

You swiveled your chair back and forth, staring up at your ceiling as you struggled to make a decision. However the clock was ticking, and the party was officially happening tonight. You didn’t have much time to go back and forth with yourself anymore.

It was either you swallow your pride, go out and enjoy yourself for the first time since everything happened with Ellie, ultimately standing up for yourself and sending her a big fuck you while doing so…

You let her win. You sacrifice your time there and you let Ellie steal your time. You let her make a fool out of you by being too hung up on the very weird attention she’d been giving you, and you stay in your room for yet another night while everyone else is having the time of their lives.

Thinking of it that way didn’t leave you much of an option, did it?

You practically rip your room apart looking for the perfect outfit to wear, which ends up being a pink halter top that flows down a bit at the ends, a pair of your favorite denim shorts and your sneakers. By the time you’re finishing up your hair and your makeup, you hear the faint sound of your brothers minions showing up, pairing that with the music that starts playing leaves you to figuring they’re probably pregaming before they leave.

That’s when it starts feeling real.

You let out a deep sigh as you stare in the mirror, fixing your top over your chest before fluffing out your hair and fixing your lip gloss, giving yourself a gentle affirming nod before you push your phone into your back pocket and head downstairs.

A blanket of silence falls between Derek and his friends when they notice you, multiple sets of eyes zeroing in on you as you slip between your brother and one of his friends silently to pour a shot before throwing it back with ease. Hazels the first to comment on it.

“Awe man, I didn’t think the first grader could hang….you joining us tonight sweetie?” She taunts, her perfect teeth pressing down into her plush bottom lip as she stares at you, a challenging look in her eye.

Derek is the next one to speak up, a surprised look on his face as he stares down at you. “Wait…really? You’re coming with us?” He quips hopefully. Had Hazel kept her fucking mouth shut, you probably would’ve found the sentiment sweet from him.

You inhale deeply to calm yourself, staring down into the empty shot glass before you finally raise your eyes to look at Hazel, only to find her standing across the island, her back pressed into Ellie’s chest as her tattooed hands toy with the exposed skin of Hazel’s waist.

You completely ignore Ellie’s eyes burning holes into you.

“Shut the fuck up Hazel” you bite back before pouring another shot.

Your words earns reactions from the group instantly, even your brother chuckling softly as he gives you a proud smile. Hazel however, is not amused in the slightest.

Her poker face drops for a moment, nostrils flaring as she stares you down like she wants to jump over the table and have you for herself, but she quickly picks it up, giving you an impressed smirk before she nods slowly.

“Ahh so she speaks…my apologies sweetheart” she practically grits out before she lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Let’s go then. I don’t wanna be late” she quickly seethes out, pushing herself out of Ellie’s arms so she can grab her purse that was sitting on the couch.

You trail behind the others after your brother reassures you things will be okay, giving him a soft smile as you all pile into his car, ultimately missing the way Ellie’s eyes trail you the entire times

The car ride there feels nostalgic. The summer breeze turns cooler the closer you get to the familiar beach, your brother blasting his music in the front as you rest your head against the edge of the window, letting the wind blow through your hair.

It makes you wish things were different. The warmth in your chest would’ve paired so well with a better crowd, one that didn’t see you as the annoying little sister that tagged along when she really shouldn’t be.

Your mind takes you to an alternate reality where things are different, one where you get along with your brother’s friends. You wonder if they’d like you if they gave you the chance, if they weren’t predisposed to not liking you simply because you’re younger than them…

You wonder if things had been different, if you and Ellie could’ve been something.

Because clearly there’s attraction there, there had to be. Were you so wrong for even letting your brain wander there? Wondering what life would be like if you and Ellie were cordial, let alone experimenting with a relationship in a normal way, and not the way you’d been going on for this past summer.

What would it be like if she treated you the way she treated Hazel while others were around? What would it be like if you were in Hazel’s position? Propped up in Ellie’s lap while the others sang songs and joked around with each other?

You’d never know, because you were in this reality, not a perfect one.

You don’t even realize when your brother pulls up to the beach. The gentle shake of the car as his friends practically run out is what rips you away from your thoughts. You clear your throat as you make your way out once everyone is gone, brushing down your outfit as you make your way down the familiar path to the beach. The beach is blossoming with the sound of life. Loud music quickly surrounds you, people dancing, swimming, drinking, it’s almost so perfect it feels cliche, and that alone reminds you that you’d made the right decision by deciding to come out.

You’re the moth, and the ocean is your flame.

It draws you in closer as you sip the drink from your solo cup, appreciating the pattern of the tide rolling in, wetting the sand beneath it, only to then pull back out shortly after. It’s what you’d missed most about the beach in your home town, its ability to calm you no matter what was almost remarkable, even with the crowd of people around you.

You have to stop yourself from walking too far down the beach, knowing deep down that Derek’s friends would take any chance to ditch you while we’re oblivious to what was going on. It’s how you end up out on one of the piers, your legs dangling over the edge as you stare up at the moon, watching as the waves roll in while you sip on your drink.

There’s heavy footsteps along the wooden pier, ones that you don’t quite catch between the heavy sound of the waves, and the music nearby. It isn’t until a familiar voice rings in your ear that you realize you’re not alone.

“You know I heard you were back in town….but I thought there’s no way you’d come back without texting me first” the words come from behind you, and your eyes widen once you catch the tall frame standing over you.

Abby Anderson

She was one of your closest friends back in elementary school. It wasn’t nice to admit, but you’d drifted apart once you both got to high school. It was in the most natural way possible, but she always managed to stick around in your mind from time to time.

Before all of that, you two were stuck at the hip. It was a similar friendship to Ellie and your brother, the two of you always running through your house, causing many headaches for both your parents and her parents whenever you were both together.

You hadn’t seen Abby in years since you left for college, it’d been so long that you didn’t even realize how long it had been.

Her physique was quite the sign that time had passed though.

You gasp softly when you realize it’s her, quickly pushing yourself up off the pier to push yourself into her already opened arms.

“I didn’t know you came back for the summer…god it’s been so long” you sigh out against her broad shoulders, the sweet smell of her perfume filling your nose as you let your eyes flutter shut, relishing in the feeling of her strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“You’d know if you thought to hit me up once in a while” she teases. You can hear the smirk in her voice as she keeps you close. It makes you giggle softly as you finally pull away from her, wanting to get a good look at the girl.

She’s just as pretty as you remember. Abby always had the prettiest blonde hair, and the most charming smile. Those were never things that you failed to notice about your friend, however she’s different now. She’s taller, her build a hell of a lot more stronger than when you were in elementary school, her hair longer and tucked into a thick braid…

You have to stop yourself from staring.

She peers down into your cup, noticing that you were getting empty. She nods her head towards the bonfire before speaking.

“Let’s top you up while you tell me alllll about your life in the big city, yeah?” She offers, to which you dumbly nod to as you follow next to her almost obediently.

After that, the two of you were glued to the hip the entire night. Between catching up on what life had brought the two of you within your adult years, and reminiscing over your time as kids, the world could be burning around the both of you and you two wouldn’t have noticed a thing. For the first time since you’d came home, you had finally found someone to spend time with.

And Ellie notices the entire thing.

Her eyes were on you the entire night. From the moment you came downstairs at the house, it was like she was under some fucked up spell that made it so she couldn’t function unless you were in her line of view. She couldn’t count on her hands how many annoyed sighs she received when her friends realized she wasn’t listening to what they were saying, instead busying herself with figuring out where the hell you were.

She tracked you like she was the predator, and you were her prey. She made sure you didn’t stray too far away from the group, made sure you didn’t do something stupid like strip naked to take a quick dip into the cold ocean. She was just being helpful! It wasn’t like she felt her mouth go dry every time it looked like someone was going to approach you….

And its like fate was on your side that night, because the moment Abby approached you at the dock, Hazel was settling herself into Ellie’s lap, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck and ultimately blocking you from her view completely.

The next time she does get a chance to see you again, you’re wrapped up in none other than Abby Anderson’s arms.

It’s just her luck, isn’t it? That out of every girl in your small beachside town, you choose that fucking idiot. You choose the girl that everyone knows to be Ellie’s sworn fucking enemy since forever. The only explanation is that you’re doing this on purpose. You know exactly what to do to get under Ellie’s skin. You did it when you were flirting with Jesse right in front of her, you did it when you kicked her out of your bedroom the last time you two were together, and you were doing it right fucking now by getting all cozy with Abby fucking Anderson.

So of course, she has to try and stop this.

But Ellie soon realizes that she spends way too much time mentally dwelling over this, and accusing you of something she knew deep down was very much out of character for you, because the second her eyes search for the two of you, she’s met with something she can only assume was pulled out of her worst nightmare.

You and Abby hand in hand as she helps you into her car.

Ellie is quick to push Hazel off her lap, her eyes now frantically searching for your brother. Once she spots him, she’s interrupting his conversation the moment she opens her mouth.

“Hey man…have you um….do know where your sisters going right now?” She asks almost out of breath, her eyes shifting quickly between Derek and Abby’s truck as she pulls out of her spot in the parking lot.

Your brother raises his eyebrows as he looks back to where you are in the girls car, nodding as he takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, she just came and told me her friend is gonna take her home” he explains casually with a shrug before he tries to turn back to his conversation.

Ellie scoffs in disbelief at his casual tone, her hand reaching forward to grab his shoulder and turn him around to face her again.

“Friend? Did you even see who she was leaving with?” Her voice is laced with worry and distress as she complains to your brother, the man oblivious to Ellie’s frantic demeanor.

“Wasn’t it just Abby? They’ve been friends forever…I honestly don’t trust anyone other than that girl. Have you seen her fucking arms? I think my sister is in good hands with her” he chuckles softly as he gives Ellie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Between his words and his reaction to the entire thing, Ellie feels like she’s going to lose her fucking mind.

Her green eyes go wide as she stares at your brother before she gives a laugh of disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s just Abby? As in Abby fucking Anderson? Are we talking about the same girl here? Or are you suffering from fucking brain damage?” She snaps back.

Her wild eyes and mean words take your brother back, his playful laughter dying down once he realizes that he friend is quite literally tweaking over the fact that you’ve left with the girl that he knew she had some beef with.

“Woah…calm down man. It’s just my sister, your beef with Anderson doesn’t really have anything to do with her…she’ll be fine” he tries to assure her once more, his tone softening to calm his friend.

This does nothing though. It makes Ellie pinch the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she shakes her head. “Give me your keys” she demands with her palm out, pushed towards him.

Derek furrows his brows in confusion. “What? Are you seriously going to-“ he’s quickly cut off by Ellie, stopping him from finishing his question.

“Give me your fucking keys Derek. I’m not letting that asshole get it in with your sister” she finally admits, her words making your brothers eyes go wide with realization, finally seeing the situation for what it really was.

He inhales deeply before he reaches into his pocket and finally places his keys into his friends hand without another word, biting back the smirk that threatened to grace his lips.

He always thought Ellie’s animosity towards you was weird, but he never thought it would mean this all along.

She doesn’t even notice, the girl quickly taking the keys and mumbling a small ‘thanks’ as she jogs up the path to the parking lot to jump into your brothers car, and race home.

Meanwhile at your house, Abby was showing you quite the time.

It didn’t take long for you two to give into the tension that had settled the moment she picked you up from the dock. One moment you were toying with the little loose hairs falling from her braid and framing her face, and the next you were tugging her up to your bedroom and locking the door behind you.

Her hands were all over you, caressing your body as her knee began grinding into your core, her lips swallowing up your moans as you clung to her desperately, chasing your high as if your life depended on it.

The feeling of Abby against you cleared Ellie out of your head almost immediately. You weren’t worried about her or the mean things she’d said to you, or the nasty way she’d treated you after getting what she wanted from you. What once was a bed that you could barely sleep in without thinking of her was now filled with the feeling of Abby, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Ellie realizes she’s too late when she pulls into your driveway to see Abby’s truck is still there, and she has to stop herself from ripping your brothers car door off when she gets out and slams it closed. There’s still something in her that hopes this is all innocent, that you didn’t really do the unthinkable and take Abby Anderson home to spite her. She hopes that the sweet side of you has taken the moral high ground, that you’ve gone to bed like the good girl she knows you are and Abby just happened to walk home and leave her car in your driveway.

So when she’s jogging on the stairs after frantically searching for you downstairs, hoping that she’ll find you sound asleep in your bed, her blood practically runs cold when her hand wraps around your doorknob…

And she can make out the familiar sounds of your moans through your door, paired with Abby’s words of encouragement to go with it.

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #tlou part 2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you

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ifwebefriends · 10 months ago

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My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

#Bluey #bluey the sign #meme #Bluey heeler #rad heeler #bandit heeler #chilli heeler #baby race #my ramblings #my rambles #frisky heeler #brandy cattle #spoilers #bluey the sign spoilers #bluey spoilers

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blue-lights-to-dreams · 2 months ago

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Golden Light // H.S.

synopsis: you go on a blind date with Harry at your best friend's insistence and enjoy it much more than you expected.

wc: 3.9k

a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this! i haven't written fic in a hot minute, so let me know what you think! this will likely have a part 2 where the exciting stuff happens, but writing even this much took me forever so i wanted to share before the Christmas mentions became irrelevant, lol!

The streets of New York City are beautiful this time of year. Christmas lights twinkle in nearly every retail storefront, some even including a dusting of ripped-up cotton balls and other snow-like materials. Just ignore the grey sludge coating the streets.

You were never one for holiday cheer, and today was no exception. Despite thinking the same of every single day, you’ve had what you would consider the longest day of your life. Your first meeting ran late by just a few minutes, but even this was enough to push your calendar so far off that you needed to reschedule your final call with the client you’d been waiting almost a month to meet with.

There was nothing more in this world you wanted to do than curl up in bed with a bottle of wine and a silk eye mask. But, here you were, trudging down the streets of New York City in your slightly uncomfortable heels, trying to dodge puddles, slush, and other mysterious substances on the sidewalk, on your way to a blind date. Emma had set you up with a friend of her boyfriend’s, and she’d made you promise you’d give him a chance.

Your last relationship had ended with a bang after you went to his apartment to surprise him after getting out of work early one afternoon, only to find him in bed with a blonde girl you never did learn the name of.

You could easily find a man to wake up to the next morning, but after years of running your own business, it wasn’t as simple as walking into a bar to meet Mr. Right. You’d dated enough men with little ambition; you needed someone who had drive– had success.

All you knew about your date for the night was his name was Harry, he was a record executive, and, according to Emma, he was hot.

The pit in your stomach only grew as you approached Bella Napoli. It didn’t help you’d spent the last six blocks trying to lift your dress and nearly-floor-length coat high enough to keep it out of the puddles.

The little blue location dot on your maps app glided closer to the restaurant with each step you took, nearly there - mist ghosted over your nose with each exhale, doing nothing to keep it warm in the frigid weather of the city, and you couldn’t wait to get inside.

Finally, you spotted the marquee sign affixed to the small brick building half a block up, signaling the end of your journey. The glass-front double doors opened easily under your hasty pull, eager to feel the heat of the brick building’s furnace.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the hostess greeted from behind her podium. She appeared to be in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and prominent cheekbones.

“Good evening, I have a reservation under (Y/L/N),” you brushed stray snowflakes off of your wool coat. Emma had ensured she would let Harry know the reservation would be under your name, and you hoped she hadn’t forgotten.

“Ah, yes, table for two? Right this way.” The young woman stepped from behind the podium and began heading toward the main dining area. You followed her as she snaked around the tables full of affluently dressed couples and businessmen in suits, reaching a small archway leading into a more dimly-lit section of the restaurant.

She led you to a booth in the corner with velvet seats and matching curtains, held open by small hooks on either side - out of sight from most of the other patrons in the section, who didn’t seem to be paying any mind to you anyway. A small candle sat between two menus, adjacent to a traditional silverware layout and an empty highball glass on either side of the booth.

You slid onto the bench facing the room’s entrance as the hostess filled each glass with ice water. She nodded as you thanked her and informed her a man by the name of Harry should be arriving soon to join you. Just in case Emma had forgotten.

The menu was short but obviously well-curated. The wine list was almost twice the length of the food menu - just how you liked it. You skimmed the offerings, deciding on a merlot of the second-highest price point. Your anxiety still made itself known in the way your stomach was twisting. You checked the time. It was 5:58 pm - still two minutes early. You hoped the wine would drown the butterflies (or maybe moths) in your stomach.

Your eyes returned to the restaurant’s food offerings but were again drawn upwards as another person sauntered into the secluded section of the restaurant. His pale grey, half-unbuttoned silk shirt settled just under the gold cross necklace grazing the indent between his pecs. A blazer of a much darker grey draped his shoulders, matching the straight-legged trousers just long enough to only allow the front of his patent-leather black loafers to peek out from under them.

The air suddenly felt heavy, like you couldn’t get a breath in. Who is the lucky lady he’s here with tonight? Your eyes darted around the section, trying to find his date, but coming up empty.

Shit, is this Harry?

Your fears are confirmed as you realize the hostess had entered the room a bit ahead of him and was leading him to your booth. The poor girl looked entirely flustered.

“Here you are, sir. Your waitress will be over shortly to grab your drink orders,” she squeaked, turning on her heels and scurrying away as quickly as possible.

You smiled at him as you shuffled out of the booth and rose to your feet, trying to seem much more confident than you were. You reached about the height of his shoulder in your heels.

“You must be (Y/N),” he spoke with a slight smile, glancing at your attire before returning his eyes to meet yours.

“That would be me. And you must be Harry.” You smiled back at him, subconsciously smoothing out the part of the dress resting on your hips.

Harry took a step toward you with arms extended, pulling you into an easy hug, His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders and yours around his waist. He smelled like an intoxicating mix of vanilla, patchouli, and musk. Expensive. Even just brushing your fingers across his suit jacket as he pulled away, the feel of the fibers suggested it had also not been cheap.

“You look stunning. I love the color of your dress,” he complimented, pulling back slightly with his hand hovering over your waist. “It looks great on you.”

“Thank you, it was actually a gift from my mother.” Compliment-taking was not your forte.

“Well, she has great taste. Shall we?” He motioned toward the set table, waiting for you to take your seat before sliding into the bench on the opposite side. “Have you been here before?”

“I haven’t, but I’ve heard great things. Have you?” His ring-clad fingers picked up the beverage menu in front of him as you spoke.

“I have, it’s one of my favorites.” That must have been why he suggested it.

“Is the Merlot any good? That’s what I was thinking of ordering, but I’m open to suggestions.” You played with the seam of your dress under the table absentmindedly.

“Now that, I haven’t had. I’m more of a white wine guy myself. I’m a fan of the Riesling.”

“Really? My first guess would have been whiskey, honestly.” There exists a pattern in these kinds of men - they always drank some very expensive whiskey they needed to tell you all about, as if it didn’t taste like smoke-flavored lighter fluid.

“I tend to prefer a sweeter taste,” his eyebrows twitched as he raised the glass of water to his lips. You nodded before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, taking time to browse the food menu.

It wasn’t very extensive, with a few choices to pick from each protein category. You settled on a grilled chicken tagliatelle with a cream sauce, hoping it would pair well with the wine.

“Hi, my name is Danielle and I’ll be taking care of you this evening,” a voice burst your bubble of concentration, “have we decided on what we’d like to drink?”

You recited your wine order first, with Harry following shortly after. The waitress jotted down your selections in her notepad before exiting the room with a promise to be back to take your food orders shortly.

“So, Emma said you work in marketing?” he spoke slowly. His accent was thick, only further drawing you into the conversation.

“PR, actually,” you replied, “I have my own firm, with a few employees. I love it.”

“That’s amazing,” he sounded sincere. “How long have you been in PR?”

“Almost a decade, but I’ve had the firm for a little over 3 years. At first, it was just myself operating out of my apartment, but we’ve been able to build up some clientele and move to an actual office space. Emma said you work for Atlas Sound, right?” you shifted the conversation away from yourself, curious about what exactly came with being a record executive.

“That’s right. I’m mostly in charge of production but I help out with some of the publishing aspects as well.”

“Ah, so no talent scouting? I was hoping this could be my big break…” you mused, narrowing your eyes at him. Harry chuckled, flashing the smile you’d found yourself dead set on seeing more of.

“No, no, unfortunately, that’s not me, but I may know some people who could help. Let me guess, rap?”

You almost choked on the water you’d just taken a sip of, but managed to swallow it before the laugh burst from your throat. It caught you off guard - Harry honestly didn’t look like he would even know what rap is. A silly notion, given his career, but true anyway.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” Harry stated sincerely, and your heart just about stopped.

Before you got the chance to respond, a full wine glass was placed in front of each of you. You hadn’t even noticed the waitress had come back. “Here are those drinks. Did we decide on what we’d like to eat? I can make some suggestions if you’re not sure what to get…”

It appeared as if she’d forgotten you were even in the room with the way she was staring directly at Harry. You couldn’t blame the girl - you’d been staring too - but she could definitely tell the two of you were on a date, so she could have at least been a little more subtle.

Harry smiled politely (and briefly) at her before turning his attention back to you to confirm you were ready to order. You both relayed your choices to the waitress, and you appreciated that Harry did not seem like he was interested in entertaining her advances.

“Anyways, where were we…” he smiled again, and your heart lurched.

Conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, aided by the wine in your glasses. You found yourself getting less and less nervous about him not being the right fit, but more and more nervous you were somehow making a fool of yourself.

The story of how one of your interns accidentally jammed the copier so badly you had to buy a completely new unit made Harry laugh loudly. It was one of many stories you had from your job that were definitely funnier in retrospect than they were as they happened. You were aware you’d talked a lot so far, but you couldn’t help it. The way Harry spoke was attractive, but the way he listened was even better. He seemed genuinely interested in the stories you told, maintaining eye contact, nodding in the right spots, and asking thoughtful follow-up questions. It had been a while since you’d had a date genuinely listen to you, and it was refreshing.

He asked more about your job, and you found yourself telling him how as much as you like being “in charge” and able to have control over your firm, sometimes it was incredibly stressful, especially in emergencies. He could see the stress that followed you home every day seep back into your expression, despite you trying your best not to let it show.

His ring-clad hand slid across the table, fingers gently entwining with yours and giving them a quick squeeze.

“You know, I think you’re brave for taking that risk. You should be proud of what you’ve built.” The eye contact he made with you as he spoke was intense, with sincerity behind his words. His hand was warm, contrasting the cool feeling of the metal rings, and you subconsciously squeezed it back in an attempt to keep it where it was. Luckily, your hands stayed intertwined for another couple of minutes as you expressed your appreciation for his kindness and shifted the conversation back to his job until your food was in front of you.

The meals were delicious, just as Harry had promised. He’d ordered a mushroom risotto that looked delicious, and your pasta tasted perfect with the wine you’d chosen. Good job, self.

Soon, you found your plate nearly empty and your body warm from the alcohol. Your thoughts felt slightly fuzzy, and you caught yourself staring a little too long at the rings on Harry’s right hand, as well as the fingers adorning them. The muscles flexed as he moved his hands while speaking, and you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away. You knew how his hand felt in yours, but how would it feel touching your cheek, against your back, gripping your -

“Did you save room for dessert? The tiramisu is incredible.” Harry’s voice broke your train of thought, and you quickly averted your eyes back to his. What seemed like a slight smirk played on his face, but you couldn’t tell if it was because he’d noticed the staring, or if the alcohol was just affecting him as well. You prayed for the latter.

“That sounds great, but I can probably only take a few bites. Would you want to share a piece?” you suggested, much too full for an entire dessert to yourself.

“I’d love to.” Harry absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the table in a rhythm you couldn’t place, not helping your attempts not to stare. “So, tell me more about that yoga class?”

The conversation flowed again, with Harry ordering dessert when the waitress stopped by. Of course, you were just as interested in his words as he was in yours, hanging on his every accented sentence. He was a captivating storyteller and his facial expressions were no different - you loved how his eyes lit up at the good parts and narrowed at the bad in the story. The slight scruff on his face complimented the way his mouth moved as it formed words, drawing you closer. How would they feel against your own lips, you wondered?

You could hear the words he was saying, but you weren’t fully listening as he continued telling you about the time he got a little too drunk at a friend’s birthday party and ended up volunteering to give a speech he had in no way prepared for. It was a great story, very funny, but your mind was otherwise preoccupied. Wine always made you… flirty.

Soon, the tiramisu was in front of you. This, too, looked delicious - Harry was right again.

“Would you like the first bite?” He offered, picking up one of the small forks laid out on the plate and scooping a bite of the dessert onto it.

“Well, ladies first I suppose,” you joked. You parted your mouth slightly as you leaned forward, waiting for him to place the fork on your tongue. What you weren’t expecting was for his other hand to reach out and lightly grasp your jaw, thumb on your chin to hold your mouth farther open. A choked gasp escaped your lips at the same time the sweet cake hit your tongue, but you could barely taste it, too distracted by the skin contact. Again, his eyes didn’t leave yours as he allowed your mouth to close and pulled his hand away from your face.

“Well? How is it?” he asked, with a definite smirk this time.

You tried to compose yourself before answering, swallowing the dessert and the lump that had formed in your throat. “It’s good… really good.” Your voice came out breathier than you intended, and you blinked heavily a couple of times, trying to kickstart the part of your brain that could think of anything except what you’d like to do with the gorgeous man sitting in front of you.

Harry took his own bite next, letting his eyes flutter shut as his mouth closed around the fork. His long eyelashes rested atop his strong cheekbones, the same ones you almost had to physically stop yourself from reaching over to brush your fingertips over. His lips were a stunning, dark shade of red, still slightly wet from the wine he’d been enjoying.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the bite, slightly brushing against the collar of his shirt. Seafoam green eyes made contact with yours as he opened them again, and a small smile graced his face as he realized you’d been watching him intently.

“You’re right, it is really good.” Your heart raced under the fervency of his gaze. He was staring into you like he wanted to read the thoughts echoing in your brain. “Would you like another bite?”

“Sure, but I can feed myself this one if you like,” you attempted to lighten the intense mood that had befallen your booth so you might actually be able to catch your breath,

“That won’t be necessary, I was quite enjoying myself,” Harry mused, refusing to break eye contact until you did. He scooped another bite onto the fork, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear before resuming his grip on your jaw and returning the fork to your lips. He felt your jaw flex as you chewed and swallowed the bite, but didn’t take his hand off of your face. Instead, he brought his thumb back to your lips and brushed below them gently, careful not to smudge your lipstick.

He brought his thumb back to his mouth and slowly closed his lips around the pad of it, a half-smile tugging at his lips at your bewildered expression. “Sorry, you had a little something there. I figured I’d get it for you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath instead of attempting to utter a response.

He took another bite himself before offering you another, which you obliged with little hesitation.

“You know, Harry, you need to be careful feeding me like this or I’ll get used to it.” Another feeble attempt to ease the tension and stop acting like a flustered teenager.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmured, voice sincere and slow, laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine, “if it means I keep getting to see your cheeks flush.”

He’d noticed how your body was responding to him, whether or not you tried to hide it. Your face burned again, sinking further into the booth behind you in slight embarrassment.

“Well, it doesn’t help that I’m on a date with an attractive man who’s feeding me tiramisu. I think that’s every woman’s dream.”

“So it’s working?” His face glowed in the candlelight, a smirk on his face but a subtle vulnerability behind his eyes.

You knew what he was implying, but wanted to regain some of the power you’d lost by being so flustered. “Maybe.”

“That’s not good enough for me. I need a yes.” He needed confirmation that you were on the same page.

“And what exactly am I saying yes to?” A sip of wine ran down your throat as you awaited his response.

“To letting me walk you home after this,” Harry stated bluntly, scanning your face for your reaction. You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, but you held your composure, leaning back casually against the booth behind you as you pretended to mull it over. You already knew what you wanted.

“Alright, Harry,” you smirked, bringing the wine glass to your lips once more, “let’s see where the night takes us.”

- - - - - - - - - -

“God, it’s freezing out here,” you groaned, dodging patches of ice. You were nearly home, your apartment building visible up the street.

Harry had grabbed your hand under the guise of keeping it warm a few minutes ago, something you were grateful for now as you gripped it tightly, trying to navigate the snow-covered ground in heels with little traction. He’d offered to call an Uber, but you wanted some more time with him without a driver listening in on your conversation.

As you approached the building, your imagination ran with thoughts of getting him upstairs, into your apartment, into your living room…

Before you could get too far, you were at the front door. Your free hand patted over the pockets of your jacket to ensure that you had your keys and found them in your left pocket.

“I had a great time with you tonight, Y/N,” Harry turned to face you, not letting go of your hand. “I’d love to do this again, sometime, if you’d be interested.”

A slight flush now graced his face, glancing at the ground as he awaited your response.

“I had a lovely time. I’d love to see you again,” you confirmed quickly, not letting him worry for too long.

He was beaming now, allowing you to admire his prominent dimples. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help but smile right back at the sight.

“There’s that beautiful smile again,” he quipped. His free hand reached for your jaw, cradling it again as you both continued to grin at each other for a few moments. A silence fell upon you again, and Harry’s eyes searched yours for a second before flickering to your lips, which had slowly returned to a resting state. As he moved his gaze back up, your eyes gleamed with the reflections of Christmas lights and were swimming with the need for more contact with him. He inhaled slowly, nervously, before exhaling sharply. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded quickly, gripping his collar to pull him closer before his mouth met yours. Electricity sparked between the two of you, his luscious lips colliding with yours over and over again, like he couldn’t get enough of you. The kiss started slow, but quickly became deeper, more desperate, as he gripped your waist tightly and pulled you close to him. Your hands searched for solace, moving from his collar to his cheeks before lightly running through the hair at the back of his neck.

He tore his lips away from yours but didn’t stray far, pressing his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. You could see both of your small pants in the air as they fogged due to the cold. A small smile played on each of your lips, and you just knew your lipstick was half-gone because you could definitely see some of it on Harry.

“You know,” you pulled away, straightening your stance confidently, “I have a bottle of wine upstairs if you’d like to help me drink it.”

Harry grinned. “I would love to.”

part 2!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles #hs1 #hs2 #hs3 #one direction #harry #haz

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whoreforsexymen · 2 months ago

Note

heeeey!!!! Im back with more jayce request. I would like to see jayce x reader with the prompts “Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” and “Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.”. This is giving me like rivals or enemies to lovers where jayce and the reader have some heavy sexual tension under the surface. One day jayce just loses all patience and snaps and takes all of his stress and anger out on the reader

Sink Like A Stone | Jayce Talis

Prompt Fic (See, Prompt List)

Prompt(s) Used:

#2 "Don't act like you didn't want to end up under me like this."

#21 "Shut up and take my fuckin' cock."

Pairings: Jayce x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns + Female Anatomy Descriptions

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked!

Word Count: 8.3k (IDK what happened)

Tags: Songfic, INTENSE Smut, INTENSE Angst, VERY SLIGHT dub-con (it's not really dubcon--Jayce just get's really consumed by anger at one point--the unspoken consent is there) Hate-fucking, Lovers to Enemies then back to Lovers (??), Choking, Semi-Public Sex, Biting, Slapping, etc.

Summary: You and Jayce are ex-lovers. You hate him for plagiarizing and stealing your life's work, and he hates you for leaving him over what he considered a selfless act. After months of having not seen each other, you two get into a heated screaming match turned hate-fucking. However, Jayce may have let his emotions get the better of him.

Notes: OKOKOK, so. Be warned. This one is a DOOZY. I was in no way planning on adding 90% of the elements I added to this story. They just kind of happened.

(Special note to @milkbean69 !! I really took this and ran with it. If you want me to redo it in a much tamer way. Please let me know and I will.)

((((Side note, this is going to have to be a two-parter! Stay tuned for part two, which will be much softer.))))

‘We lie,

Cold.’

Jayce.

A name so simple, so unassuming, it would slip unnoticeably through anyone else’s mind. But to you, it holds weight. Each syllable, each breath that forms it, feels impossibly significant—a name that stirs something deep within you, a quiet echo of poignancy known only by you.

Your feelings towards the Jayce Talis you once knew were complex and hard to define. On one hand, you despised the way he insinuated himself into the council of Piltover’s most prestigious Academy, taking a seat you believed was rightfully yours—one you had fought tooth and nail to earn.

‘Dam up the river,

We can go, slow.’

His so-called “vision” for Piltover’s future, with that abominable Hextech nonsense, had directly sabotaged the plans you’d spent years perfecting. You may not have had the luxury of Arcane magic to ease trade, but you had crafted a much more practical blueprint to connect Piltover to the rest of Runeterra’s trading world.

Yet the moment Jayce and his fragile “partner” wielded their so-called “magic,” your ideas were dismissed, overlooked, and ultimately erased.

‘We don’t wanna,

Know.’

On the other hand, you had always considered him a friend—seemingly more at times—until the day he practically ripped the rug of your life’s work out from under your feet.

Not to mention he had the gall to call it his idea. “His” idea? Please. It was your idea, just re-wrapped in a fancy mystical package. You had worked on it together, after all. Jayce had spent countless hours rambling about the mysticism and potential of those tiny blue stones of his, insisting they could revolutionize everything you had ever strived to achieve. Never once did you imagine that, once he unlocked their power, he’d turn against you, abandoning the partnership and the vision you had once shared.

‘Dull down our senses,

Become numb.'

What kind of name was Hextech, anyhow? It felt devoid of sophistication, lacking both subtlety and the gravitas one might expect from something so profound. It didn’t quite capture the essence of what it was—an intricate fusion of magic and technology—nor did it convey any sense of elegance or purpose.

Although, you couldn’t deny that you often reminisced in memories of your life before his grandiose “discovery”—robbery, really— of Hextech—your idea.

‘We take our time

Ignoring all the signs

Living in fear of our lies

Never bad enough to break it

Or, good enough to feel right.’

You had spent the better portion of your youth with him, much of it tangled amidst bedsheets, consumed by a shared, desperate need to relinquish each other’s physical tensions.

‘Been in overtime,

Half our lives.’

Sometimes, you could still feel the softness of his touch, the warmth of his lips grazing your skin—and other, much more tender, places. You could easily recall how your body had ached for him at times, but even more painfully, how your heart had longed for him, too. A truth you never dared to utter aloud.

The absence of anything beyond those intense moments of passion never really crossed your mind during the thick of it all. You never questioned it, and in hindsight, you’re almost thankful you didn’t—especially after what he had done after all that time. All of the time spent together, collectively fantasizing over your dreams and aspirations of a better life for all citizens, and a better future for the next generations to come.

‘Under indecision,

We become so dependent.

On the rush,

Of the moment.’

The bitterness that had consumed your heart was unbearable now, and the thought of ever confessing your feelings to him seemed almost unfathomable—impossible to imagine how much worse it could have been for you now if you had.

By this point, you were acutely aware of how deeply you loathed him. Your physical desires had long since faded, especially since you hadn’t seen or spoken to him in months. You had even gone so far as to move to a place he couldn’t find, cutting off every trace of connection, and the bond you once had.

Your skin ached with longing for him, your body and soul craving his touch once more. Yet, no matter how intense the desire, you would never allow him a single opportunity to return to your life.

It was a painful contradiction to bear—hating him, yet craving him all the same. You felt trapped, consumed by hopelessness, unable to escape the turmoil inside.

‘Sanitize

My head.’

You hadn’t moved far—just to the other side of Piltover, away from The Academy, the council, and—most importantly—-Jayce, himself.. The distance was a great relief. In your day-to-day life, there was no real risk of encountering him, and that small sense of safety gave you some peace of mind.

However…

You often found yourself testing that peace, pushing the boundaries of the distance you’d created. You weren’t entirely sure why—maybe it was the deep, unresolved desperation for him, or perhaps a semi-conscious, self-destructive choice of yours.

‘Death murders

Everything in sight.’

Each night, you found yourself walking almost the entire length of Piltover, from your new home to the Hexgate monolith on the far end—the very place you had fought so hard to escape.

Seeing the towering structure always left you with a deep, melancholic thrum in your chest. It represented everything you had once hoped for, everything you had worked and slaved over, now reduced to rubble by its mere presence.

‘Beneath the rip in the wind

The pillar push you aside.’

That tower stood as an unyielding symbol of betrayal, a constant reminder of the anger and anguish that had shattered your world at the mercy of Jayce’s hands.

‘If I make way

I can taste your sigh.

Just like the cannibal amp

It knows sound is size.’

On your nightly walks, you would make your way down the stone pier that lead to the water, your footsteps echoing in the quiet. When you reached the end, you’d grasp the railing that kept people from tumbling over the cliff’s edge, gluing yourself to the present moment.

‘Push me to

The brink, I said

Well that bitch

Is a creep

It tried to know what I think.’

There, you’d gaze up at the tower, lost in thought—re-evaluating and wondering how differently your life might have unfolded if Jayce hadn’t betrayed you—-if he hadn’t stolen your idea and torn everything apart.

‘To breathe out passion

Or suck in fate

You think the world was made

To wield your weight

And bleed out?’

Tonight was no different. Here you were, hood drawn—- hands shoved deep in your pockets—-your bodice pulled tight as you hunched in quiet disdain, eyes locked on nothing but the ground that passed underfoot.

Your expression was sour as you traced every wrong turn your life had taken to bring you here. Your chest felt heavy, as if the weight of it all pressed itself down upon you out of sheer spite.

Your mind buzzed, a relentless whirl of painful memories spinning in a dizzying menagerie inside your skull.

When your eyes met the stark, hauntingly familiar edifice, a sharper pang stabbed deep beneath your chest, more intense than you were accustomed to by now.

You weren’t sure why, of all nights, tonight seemed to bring out the most intense surge of feelings—especially since you found yourself unusually consumed by your thoughts this time around.

Especially since, long before Jayce had perfected the Hexgate, the two of you would often come here to find solace in the sound of the waves and the crisp air of the sea. You’d toss stones into the water, or compete to see who could throw them the furthest. The bittersweet memory of how often Jayce would taunt you for your lack of coordination only deepened the pain and anger digging at you.

You couldn’t control the mindless, almost reflexive way your body reacted to such intense feelings, in combination with the familiarity of the location. Without a second thought, your hand reached for a nearby rock, and before you even registered what you were doing, you hurled it as hard as you could toward the tower.

The tower, distant and perched far out in the water, seemed almost unreachable, and your rock barely made it halfway before splashing down into the water with a sound that felt like it mocked you in the same way Jayce had. You almost felt compelled to throw another rock, driven by some irrational need to make the first one atone for mocking you—despite the fact that it, like all other rocks, had no sentience to answer for its actions.

You gave in to the irrational impulse, bending down to pick up another rock, your mind still fixated on the need to make the previous one pay. But as your fingers closed around the stone, something in the corner of your vision made you pause. A pair of shoes—familiar, yet unknown—caught your eye. Shoes that were attached to feet. Feet that led up to legs. Legs that belonged to the hips and torso of an individual you couldn’t see beyond your hood.

The rock slipped from your hand, forgotten, as your attention shifted entirely to the figure standing behind you. You hadn’t heard a single indicating noise that you had been followed, or approached from behind.

The presence was sudden, unnerving, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be afraid. If you were anywhere else, anywhere but Piltover, you’d be terrified. But here, in this ”city of wonders”, you couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, you were still safe.

If anything, it was probably an enforcer, here to reprimand you for throwing rocks in the first place. You straightened up, brushing the thought aside, and turned to face whoever had been silently looming behind you.

As you spun around, you realized—this wasn’t an enforcer.

No, far from it.

The person standing there was more terrifying than any enforcer could ever be, and certainly more annoying, infuriating, and enraging to look upon, for lack of better words to describe the instant rush of wrath that overwhelmed you.

‘Am I the reason

That you can’t look past

Your future self?’

“Your aim is still pretty shit, sunshine.” He says plainly, the nickname he had always pegged you with burning in your ears.

Your blood ran cold as your eyes locked onto the disgustingly smug expression on his face. Every hair on your body stood on end, a shiver crawling up your spine as you stood face to face with the man you now regarded with nothing but utter disdain.

You freeze, unable to muster a response, your mind clouded with a storm of rage and contemptment.

Jayce’s gaze lingers on you, almost—dare you think it—in a way that seemed concerned, longing, and worst of all—-caring.

What a hypocrite. How dare he look at you like he actually cares?

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been stuck

And glued in frequent doubt.’

“Don’t give me that look,” you snap, your fingers twitching, aching to throw a rock at his face just to make him eat his words. For a split second, you actually consider it—and you’re sure Jayce can feel exactly what’s running through your mind as he observes the way your eyes flicker between his face, and the stone you had left behind.

“What look?” he asks, concern surging through his expression again.

Did this guy have a death wish, or was he really just that oblivious? Either way, you could crack instantaneously.

“That look. The fake concern,” you snap, your eyes dropping, fists tightening, teeth grinding.

“Fake…?” He pauses, clearly lost in thought as he crosses his arms over his chest, the hint of offense hanging off his words.

You fight the urge to lash out, to make him feel something stronger than pain.

‘I know the feeling

‘Cause I can’t keep

My mind open now.’

“Yes, fake, Jayce. As in insincere. Artificial,” you spit, taking a sharp breath.

“Ersatz,” you add, the word a bitter aftertaste.

Your words cut through the air with a venomous cadence, each syllable sharp and biting, a distasteful attempt to tear through him.

Jayce looked completely dumbfounded, as if his mind had been wiped clean. The stark look of gears no longer grinding in his brain was almost comical. He was daft, no doubt. You felt a twinge of pride prod your ego upon this realization.

You couldn’t bear to stay here, not this close to him, not after everything. The thought that he was only here to twist the knife deeper into your wounds was almost more than you could handle. Your emotions, raw and overwhelming, had already drained you, and you were done. You didn’t want to give him another moment—no chance for him to make things worse, or worse still, to somehow try and redeem himself. As if he ever could.

Steeling yourself, you gather what little dignity you have left and turn away, keeping your face carefully composed. As you pass him, you deliberately knock your shoulder against his, ricocheting his shoulders in the process, a silent and singular act of defiance as you walk away.

As if to intentionally make matters worse, Jayce turns after you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He makes contact, swiftly pulling you back towards him.

“___, wait—” He begins, but his words are cut short as your hand slams into his cheek. You hadn’t necessarily meant to hit him, but the motion was as instinctive as throwing the rocks—your hand connecting with the flesh of his cheek before you even had a chance to stop it—not that you necessarily would have wanted to.

The way you had wound up the slap was only amplified by the sudden pull of his hand grabbing you mid-stride, forcing you back toward him. The momentum aided the force with which you struck him.

The weight of what you’d just done hit you all at once—grief, anger, relief, all crashing together. A small part of you, the part that still cared for him, was flooded with guilt. But the darker parts of you—those that hated him, that had longed to hurt him—felt a twisted satisfaction. Besides, it was his own fault that he had grabbed you.

You’d wanted to feel his skin beneath your hands, after all, and in an oddly perfect way, this had been the way to satiate that desire.

Jayce instantly released his grip on your wrist, his hand moving to cup the spot where your slap had left its mark.

“Ah…” he groaned, wincing as he cupped the stinging flesh. His eyes snapped shut, the pain unmistakably written all over his face.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away as he stood there, his hand pressed against the raw, reddened skin of his cheek, the mark of your slap still vivid and angry. The sight of it made your chest tighten, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was you were feeling. What should you feel in a moment like this? That was the question you could neither answer or shake.

You had already acknowledged, in a quiet corner of your mind, that there was a strange satisfaction in lashing out, even if it was tangled with the thorny weight of your own hurt. There was a cruel sort of release in it, one that both thrilled and disturbed you in equal measure. Your stomach churned as you fought to suppress the abhorrent feeling of shame that crept up on you.

You could feel your instincts urging you to escape—to run, to put distance between yourself and this raw, uncomfortable moment. But you chose not to listen. The urge to flee warred with something else, something deeper, a curiosity that had begun to take root. You wanted to see how this would unfold, to witness how this tension would resolve, if it would resolve at all. The satisfaction you had felt from that sharp, ringing slap was undeniable. Maybe it had been a way to expel some of the pain that had been building inside you for so long. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth confronting whatever came next, just to relieve yourself of that heaviness, even if only for a moment.

‘Make up your mind,

We’re running out of time.’

Your heart sunk as you saw the essence of betrayal soon sweep across his face. Yet, simultaneously, that added to the anger you felt. He, of all people, felt betrayal? After the way he betrayed you? That look of his repulsed you.

He looked at you, disbelief written all over his face, his expression a mixture of shock and hurt. His hand lingered on his cheek, still tender from the sting of your slap, as though he couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the moment. The look he gave you was one of genuine confusion, as if he couldn’t fathom why you were so consumed by anger.

“___…” His voice cracked slightly, heavy with emotion, but still full of that familiar, passionate lilt, the kind that used to make your heart race. When he whispered your name—softly, almost reverently—it was as if the sound of it pained him.

‘Doubt is failure

By design.’

His eyes searched yours, full of questions that hung in the air, unanswered. Why had you struck him? Why this sudden violence? The pain in his gaze only seemed to stoke the fire inside you, making the anger flare even hotter, more reckless.

“Don’t look at me like that. Like you don’t know exactly what that was for,” you spat, each word sharp, each syllable dripping with a tang that tasted like metal on your tongue. But as the words left you, the anger morphed into something far more fragile, far more devastating. Your heart seemed to crack with the weight of it, the betrayal, the hopelessness. The tears welled up, blurring your vision as your chest tightened with sorrow.

“Why… why are you so blind to everything you’ve done?” you choked out.

“To everything we had… everything you destroyed… just so you could chase your fucking dreams?”

Your fists balled at your sides, the muscles in your arms trembling from the effort of keeping control, even though your voice shook with the strain of holding back the tidal wave of emotion threatening to break free.

‘I’m burning up

Can only take

So much.’

“What about my dreams, Jayce? What about our dreams?” you cried, your voice rising, your words feeling like they could burn everything in their path. Every inch of you ached—your body, your heart, your soul—all of it pulled taut like a string ready to snap. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep it in.

“What made sealing your own future—your destiny—more important than what we built together?” you demanded, the question sitting in the air between you like a dagger.

“Why was your ambition more sacred than our bond? More sacred than us?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps. The tears spilled over, leaving hot trails down your face, but you stood your ground, unwilling to back down. This—this pain, this heartbreak—was something you needed to admit, needed him to hear.

“How dare you steal my idea. How dare you take the credit, and disparage it with your stupid, fucking, magic.” You were shouting now, your voice ringing through the night air, raw and unfiltered, the weight of your anger shattering the silence that had settled over everything. The contrast between your fury and the stillness of the evening was jarring—your words felt like they were tearing through the quiet, reverberating off the walls of the world around you.

“Your idea?!” he exclaimed in response, his voice rising sharply, cutting through your tirade. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a few purposeful strides, his figure towering over you, his height and presence suddenly far more imposing than you remembered. His broad shoulders blocked the space between you, his stance firm, as if challenging you to face him head-on.

‘I know you

Can feel it

It’s catching up

It’s getting too heavy

For both of us.’

“Since when was it your idea?” His words were fast, biting with frustration, and he was unrelenting as he moved closer, his eyebrows knit together in upset.

“‘Cause the way I remember it—we both wanted change. We both wanted to make Piltover a better, more advanced city.” His voice was now an angry force, his face craning down to meet yours, his eyes sharp, trying to drill the point home. He wasn’t asking anymore—he was demanding you understand.

But what hit you most in that moment wasn’t just his words. It was the way his anger had suddenly shifted everything. For the first time in your life, you felt small compared to him. You had never seen him like this—not even annoyed, not in all the time you had spent together. Jayce had always been the steady one, the calm, the voice of reason. But now, his fury felt like a storm—intense, unpredictable, and completely foreign. The force of it left you unsettled, and taken aback, to say the least.

You didn’t know how to react to this. His anger was like a tidal wave, knocking the ground out from under you, and for the first time, you realized just how much power he had over you—how much he could command just by his sheer presence. The towering figure in front of you, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with emotion, made your chest tighten. You didn’t know what to do with this. His anger was new, and in some way, it was almost more frightening than anything you had ever faced.

‘We lie

Cold.’

You were baffled, not just by the words he was saying, but by the way he was saying them—like a person you didn’t recognize.

You parted your lips, ready to continue the tirade that had built up in your chest, but before you could get another word out, Jayce’s voice cut you off, raw and jagged. He didn’t give you a chance to speak, his frustration spilling over, each word more desperate than the last.

“You left me. Here. Alone.” His voice cracked, trembling under the weight of everything he, too, left unsaid, considering how you fled before he ever got a chance to explain himself. It wasn’t just anger in his tone anymore; it was pain. The kind that came from a place so deep you couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard you tried.

“I did what I thought was best for us.” He stepped closer, his voice rising in volume, matching the intensity of your own.

“I proved what I was trying to prove. For us. For our collective aspirations.” The words came faster now, fueled by the overwhelming rush of emotion that was beginning to boil over in him.

“I worked my ass off to make sure that, with the help of my Hextech, your trade routes could flourish,” he spat, his anger now matching yours, raw and unrelenting. His face was inches from yours, his breath hot as he glared down at you.

“I won’t stand here and let you blame me, let you hate me, for acting out of what I thought was selflessness at the time. I’ve gone to bat for you, countless times, to make sure you got the credit you deserved.”

His own fists clenched at his sides, the strain of his words almost too much to bear.

“But you ran. You left, assuming my only goal was to use you, when in reality, all I ever tried to do was support you.”

His words slammed into you like a physical blow, and for a second, you were paralyzed by the force of them. But then the anger surged again, hot and insistent. Support you? The bitterness twisted in your gut, and before you even thought about it, the words exploded from your mouth.

“Support me?!” You shouted, the sound ringing through the night like a bell, sharp and accusing.

“That’s what you call abandoning me to take a seat in the highest of towers?” You could feel the heat of your own fury rising to meet his, and without thinking, you shoved both hands into his chest, pushing him back with all the force you could muster.

Jayce stumbled backward, caught off guard by the sheer force of your anger, and you weren’t done. You shoved him again, harder this time, your hands pressing against his chest until he hit the railing behind him with a loud clang. The sound echoed in the air, but you didn’t care.

“In the council, no less?! Leaving me here to fend for myself in your fucking shadow?!” Your voice was hoarse now, each scream louder and more desperate than the last. You pushed him once more, as if trying to push the weight of everything you felt, everything you couldn’t hold onto anymore, into him.

The tears you’d held back were streaming freely down your face, but there was no stopping them now. The hurt, the betrayal—it all came pouring out in that single moment. The fury and heartbreak swirled together, a force you couldn’t control, and all you could do was scream at him until your voice gave out, until he understood just how much you had suffered because of his choices.

‘Dam up the river,

We can go, slow.’

Jayce had finally reached his limit. The shouting, the anger, the constant back and forth—it was all too much. He could see now that no matter what he said, nothing would make you stop. The argument had spiraled into something beyond reason, and every word he spoke only seemed to fuel your fire. You weren’t listening anymore; you were just lashing out, consumed by rage.

Enough was enough.

‘Dull down our senses,

Become numb.’

When you shoved him again, anger blinding you, Jayce reacted quickly. His patience had worn thin, and he wasn’t about to let this go any further.

The next time your hands came at him, he caught your wrists with a swift, forceful motion, crossing them tightly over each other. Before you could react, he shoved your arms into your chest, locking you in place. Then, without warning, he spun you around, pulling you harshly against him so that your back was pressed to his chest. His grip tightened, his arms like iron bands, preventing you from thrashing away.

‘Mirin myself

All by myself.’

“Stop.” His voice was low, sharp, and commanding, vibrating against your ear as his chest caged you in. You could feel the heat of his body, the raw tension in every inch of him as he held you close, his strength completely overpowering your attempts to break free.

“___, for fucks sake! Stop!” He demands, one of his enormous hands moving to take hold of both of your wrists while the other clamped down around your jaw, bringing your face towards your shoulder, where his own chin rested in this position.

Jayce had no choice. He knew how stubborn you were, how deeply you clung to your anger when you were hurt, and how you’d never stop until you’d worn yourself out—if you ever did. But right now, he couldn’t wait for that to happen. He couldn’t let you run away from him anymore.

With one sharp, decisive movement, his lips crashed into yours. It was hard, hungry, demanding—a complete storm of sensation that left no room for resistance. Your eyes went wide in shock, your breath hitching as you tried to pull back, but he followed, his mouth pressing harder against yours, refusing to let you break free.

‘Feel the caress, so sweet

Done by my hand.’

You gasped, the sound caught between your lips, and before you could protest, his kiss deepened, his tongue slipping past your lips, twisting with yours in a way that both startled and confused you. You cried out into his mouth, the noise muffled, as his hold on you tightened, his body pressing closer to yours, grounding you in place.

Every part of you wanted to push him away, to shout, to keep fighting, but Jayce’s kiss was relentless—an anchor pulling you deeper into silence. He wasn’t pulling back, not until you stopped fighting, until you let go of that anger long enough to breathe.

And though you still burned with fury, something about the way he held you, the way his presence swallowed you whole, made it harder and harder to keep struggling.

No matter how much you had longed for his touch, how desperately you had yearned for him to kiss you like this again, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it in a moment like this. Not when everything inside you was still burning with anger and hurt.

‘Polishing this frame of mind,

Jacked it up an ax to grind.’

You fought against him, your body stiff and tense, desperately trying to pull away from his overwhelming presence. Each movement was a silent refusal, a stubborn resistance to the way his kiss was pulling at your very core.

‘Duck n’ dodge,

Stay unaligned.'

But it was futile. You were already drained, your energy spent from the crying, the shouting, the endless cycle of rage that had led you here. As his lips pressed more insistently against yours, the fight in you began to falter. The need to escape, the impulse to run, slowly began to dissolve with every second his lips lingered on yours, and his tongue explored the depths of your mouth. What remained was the sharp sting of your rage, but even that felt like it was starting to ebb.

Gradually, your body softened, the tension in your muscles melting away. The fight left you, piece by piece, until you sighed against his mouth, the sound muffled but unmistakable. With a subtle shift, your head tilted just enough to give him more room, more access, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to stop fighting. The kiss deepened, and in that quiet surrender, Jayce released a long, relieved breath, sensing your body finally easing into his touch.

‘My recognition face

Some get withered

Some get fried.’

You kissed him back after great hesitation, your lips and tongue moving urgently against his, as if you were trying to make up for every lost moment in a single, heated breath. There was no holding back now. The memories, the longing, everything that had been buried deep inside you erupted all at once, and your mouth moved hungrily against his, each movement a desperate attempt to relive the intimacy you’d once shared.

‘I know we talked about

The shit we did

Each time.’

His grip on your wrists faltered, weakening as you started to turn toward him fully. The distance between you closed rapidly, and soon, your chest was pressed flush against his, your body responding to his presence with an intensity you couldn’t control. As your hands were freed, they instinctively traveled up to his face, your thumb brushing over the spot where you’d struck him only minutes before, feeling the remnants of your anger there, now mingling with something else.

‘Polishing this frame of mind

Jacked it up an ax to grind.’

You cupped his face, fingers digging into his jaw, pulling him even closer as if trying to erase the distance between you, to melt into him and make up for the time and pain that had come before. The urgency in your movements was raw and frantic, a wordless plea to feel everything at once—to collapse the anger, the longing, and the need that had built up inside you into this single, desperate connection.

‘Duck n’ dodge

Stay unaligned

My recognition face.’

His hands roamed over your body, searching for any way to pull you closer, his touch growing more insistent as he settled them on your hips, pulling you into him. The physical closeness only heightened the tension, the desire, but also something darker—something that still lingered between you—lust.

Though you no longer felt the need to escape, your rage simmered just below the surface, burning deep in your chest. It wasn’t gone, not by a long shot. It still gnawed at you, demanding to be felt, demanding some kind of reckoning. Part of you wanted to make him feel it, make him understand the depth of your pain. You wanted him to know what you had been through all this time.

‘Am I the reason

That you can’t

Look past your future self?’

Your tongue retracted for a moment, and you pressed your teeth against his bottom lip, the bite sharp enough to sting. It was a flash of anger, mixed with the heat of desire, and it caught Jayce off guard. You had shared passionate moments before, but nothing quite like this—nothing that carried this much intensity. He flinched at the sudden sharpness, but in that moment, something in him sparked, that familiar fire of tension growing even stronger.

If that’s what it would take to break the tension, then he’d oblige.

Jayce’s hand tangled into your hair, pulling you closer, his grip tightening. The sensation of your hair in his hand, the pressure, sent a breathless sound escaping from you—something between a gasp and a soft exhale. It was involuntary, the sound mixing with the heat building between you. Jayce had always longed to hear that from you, to feel that connection, and now that it was happening, he couldn’t stop.

For far too long, Jayce had denied himself any form of physical connection. Since you left, he’d been forced to bury his desire for you deep inside, locking it away with a painful awareness that nothing—no touch, no embrace—could compare to what he had shared with you. Each passing day, he became more acutely aware of the emptiness that lingered, knowing that any contact with anyone else would only serve as a stark reminder of the craving that burned for you.

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been stuck

And glued in frequent doubt.’

He tightened his grip, drawing another soft sound from you, the mix of pleasure and tension in the air thickening. His focus was solely on you now, on the way your body responded, on the sounds you made, and how this moment—this raw, unguarded moment—was pulling both of you closer to the unspoken lust that couldn’t be denied a moment longer.

You can’t help but let out a filthy little moan, whimpering along with it.

A shameless, guttural moan, that sent Jayce’s head into a spiral. He had been beyond desperate to coax those kinds of noises out of you for what felt like too long of an eternity. He was in no position to deny himself the opportunity to keep drawing them out of you.

His hands curled into a fist as he yanked on your hair, whimpers flying out of you like a flock of birds.

If you wanted to fight dirty, Jayce was game.

“Fuck..” He breathes out—eager, like a starved man who stumbled upon a banquet— as he pulls away from your lips, immediately pressing them against the skin of your neck he had exposed from his grip on your locks. He let his teeth drag along the skin, biting and harshly sucking on it in several places. Your reaction was deathly arousing. The slightly pained cries that flowed beside ones of pleasure sent Jayce’s burning temptation into orbit.

He knew you needed him in the way he had once gotten used to providing for you. His cock throbbed beneath his slacks, desperate to break free from the confines of the cloth that kept it contained.

It was arguably harder than it had ever been, his anger and inability to have you for so long adding fuel to the fire of his pure incessant need to bury himself deep inside you.

‘I know the feeling

Cause I can’t keep

My mind open now.’

Oh, how you both longed to be connected like that again. In the way all lovers know well—their unspoken second nature.

He ruts his hips against yours, your own body responding instinctively by meeting them in their attempt to seek friction.

You both emit low grunts at the new sensation, satiating the tension for now.

You felt as though you were being scorched from within, the intense heat of your desire and simmering rage intertwining, each stoking the other in a relentless blaze. Every nerve burned with an insatiable hunger, a craving that went beyond pleasure, pulling you deeper into a whirlwind of both ecstasy and agony.

You needed more—not just the thrill of sensation, but the raw, cathartic pain that seemed to heighten the fire within you. Your soul ached for an outlet, something that would satisfy the chaotic tension, where your lust and frustration could collide, erupting into something that might finally ease the raging storm inside.

You snaked your arms around his neck, giving a small jump into him as you anchored onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He hums darkly in reaction to the sudden motion, his hands releasing their clasp on your hair to instead latch onto the bottom of your ass—-supporting you as you clung to him.

Jayce’s head shot up from it’s spot between your head and chest, moving to a new vantage point in order to scan the area. He was a man with a mission.

A mission to uncover the perfect place, somewhere secluded and unremarkable—a refuge hidden from the world where he could channel the fury between you with ruthless intensity. It had to be a spot where nothing could interrupt the raw, unfiltered release of tension—a place where every movement, every act, could be as drastic and unforgiving as the anger that surged through both of you.

Needless to say—and in an extremely simple turn of phrase—-He needed to fuck the rage out of you— and he would stop at nothing to do so.

After a few tense moments, Jayce focused, his eyes landing on the perfect hidden corner in all of Piltover. His grip tightened on you as he began to lead you toward it. The alleyway was small and shadowed, tucked between two shops that had long since closed for the night. The buildings on either side pressed in tightly, their walls forming a dark, narrow passage that swallowed any light. The darkness obscured it from street lamps and passersby, though Jayce hardly seemed at all concerned about the possibility of wandering eyes, anyway.

The alley itself was already tucked away from the main streets, but the particular spot his intentions were set on was even more concealed—through the alley and to the right, behind the buildings entirely, not just in between.

Overhanging eaves, garbage bins and scattered crates cloaked the area, creating a thick, impenetrable shadow. It was a secluded pocket, completely hidden from view, untouched by the faintest glimmer from the street beyond.

A perfect haven of obscurity, though the lack of any inviting scenery was hardly worth a second thought. The cracked cobblestones, the faint smell of damp earth, rotting trash, and the forgotten clutter of the alley seemed irrelevant. In a place like this, where shadows held sway, scenery had no claim. Nothing mattered but the raw, pressing heat of the moment.

You sank your teeth into his neck, your hands exploring his shoulders with a quiet, persistent need. He groaned beneath your bite, his un-abating lust taking the lead furthermore, as he harshly slammed your back against the abrasive stone walls of the building. His mouth was quick to covet yours once more, lips voraciously seeking stimulation from them.

Your sensual tango of lips pressing against each other, hips grating and rutting into each other’s carried out, Jayce beginning to make quick work of exposing you to the elements, his cock still hard as ever as it brushed against your clit beneath the layers of clothing. You can’t help but whimper out in response.

With the new advantage of pinning you to the stone wall—-combined with the leverage of your legs still around his waist—-his hands grew eager, rushing to tear your blouse apart. His fingers slid between the buttons of the opening, pushing through the seam before he gripped tight and wrenched it apart. Several buttons flew free, briefly distracting from the sharp bite of the cold air against the newly exposed skin.

You couldn’t help but whine into the cavern of his mouth, the rough display of lust redirecting all of your aching and longing straight to your clit. It throbbed with intent, a desperate reminder that you needed more friction. You greedily rolled your hips into his, yielding another low, filthy grunt from Jayce.

“Fuck.” He pants against your mouth, hands kneading at your breasts, cock twitching beneath his trousers.

Oh, how he longed to revisit the memories of your past encounters, to re-enact the acts of pleasure he had learned to bring you. But in such a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. As much as he yearned to please you in the ways he’d spent so much time discovering, there was no time, now. The urgency of the present situation demanded everything from him. If he didn’t bury his cock deep within you, right now, and fuck you senseless, he’d probably keel over.

This was his last chance. His only chance to rewrite your history.

‘Am I the reason,

That you can’t look past,

Your future self?’

Without a second’s hesitation, Jayce tore your legs from his waist, practically dropping you to the ground. In one swift motion, he flipped you around, pressing your cheek forcefully into the cold stone wall with one hand. You groan out, the harsh force of his motions prodding your deep-seated anger once more. His chin reclaims its resting point on your shoulder, teeth claiming your earlobe between them as he pressed his mouth to your ear. You groan out of sudden distaste for the new position.

”Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” He growls into it, the words viscerally stabbing at your clit, earning a thirsty cry from you.

He spread your legs with his feet, his free hand clambering to release his throbbing cock from it’s fabric prison. He yanked your pants down, the sound of his belt clinking sending shivers up your spine as your cunt pulsated in anticipation.

You were beyond wet—the word a dull description of the way your cunt was absolutely sopping, dripping, and practically gushing for him.

Despite your evident arousal, you weren’t used to things happening so fast. You began to protest as your back arched against his brawny, bold, and burly chest.

“Jayce— wait!” You started to say, before his teeth clamped down onto your earlobe with increased vigor, your words fading into torrid moans as a result.

He pulls your underwear to the side, fist pumping his deprived cock before he lined himself up with your soaking cunt.

“Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.” He barked.

Before you even had a chance to breathe, he plowed into you, curling his hips up to press flush against your ass. You had no choice but to brace yourself. Your hands flew to the cold stone wall, gripping tightly to keep from collapsing under the force of it all.

The sound that tore from deep within your chest was raw, loud enough to make anyone within a hundred feet of the building take concerned notice. Anyone outside of you and Jayce would have assumed you were being murdered.

It was a deliciously vile sound, thick with want, neediness, desperation, and all the emotions you had yet resolved.

“Fuck!” You scream, tears stinging in your eyes as Jayce began slamming up into you with at an absolutely merciless pace. He wasted no time by giving you a single moment to adjust, knowing full well the rough nature was exactly what the situation called for. If he didn’t give this his all, everything was at stake. Or so he thought.

His thrusts were, at their core, crude—filthy, vulgar.

Lascivious.

They had an animalistic quality, one that attested to his own desires, and the hurtful longing he had harbored for you.

Jayce grunted, huffing out as he ruthlessly snapped his hips against the flesh of your ass. He plunged his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, the hand that held your face against the stone withdrew from you. Jayce pulled it beneath your arm, wrapping around your chest to imperviously grip at your breast, using his hold on it to further aid in the force with which he was bucking into you.

His other hand moved to your neck, fingers tightening around it with a possessive grip. The pressure forced the air from your lungs, and you gasp, the sound barely escaping as your breath becomes shallow. You squirm, struggling to breathe, but his hold doesn’t loosen. Instead, it pulls you in deeper, mixing fury with hunger. Each ragged breath, each flicker of resistance only seems to make it worse, the heat between you both building in the space where anger and desire collide.

“Fuck you.” He spat out in sync with his thrusts.

“Fuck.” —thrust.

“You.” —thrust.

“For.” —thrust.

“Leaving.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.

The words he spat out were coated in intent, each one seething with the same anger that simmered inside of him. The way he moved, pounding into you, was frantic, his hips driven by a fire that seemed to consume him.

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been

Stuck and glued

In frequent doubt.’

You could feel it, the heat coursing through his veins with every thrust—his body shaking with the intensity of it. There was nothing controlled about the way he gripped you, no tenderness. Just a reckless, furious need, each movement angry, as if he were fighting to push the rage out of his body and into you.

His soul had been set ablaze, and all you could do was feel the burn.

“Agh—“ You pant, air still desperate to escape your lungs as he clenched your throat.

“F-fuck you for—-Pretending like—-you care.” You choke out.

Jayce’s blood boils, his grip on your throat tightening beyond the point of care.

“Pretending like I care?” He pants as well, exhausting himself from the force with which he was railing his cock up into you.

“I care. More than—anyone—sunshine.” He very well shouts, words still in sync with his thrusts, on exhaling with each. He was absolutely plowing you now, the familiar nickname cutting through the air that surrounded you.

You were groaning out in pleasure and pain, the contrasting feelings mixing into one as he continued his relentless assault on your cervix.

“T-Then why—-why couldn’t you just—-“ Your lungs begged for air.

“Love me—-like I love—- you?” You gasp, your voice barely audible above the hunger for air.

‘I know the feeling

Cause I can’t

Keep my mind

Open now.’

Jayce’s movements stopped abruptly, his hands yanking away from you as if struck by a sudden realization. You gasped, breath catching painfully in your throat, stumbling back into the wall, your body desperate for air that was slow to come. The intensity that had fueled him moments before seemed to drain in an instant, leaving you gasping in the silence.

Jayce felt an overwhelming wave of guilt crash over him, sharp and suffocating, like a bucket of ice-cold water being poured straight over his head. It hit him all at once, a gut-punch of realization that mirrored the guilt he had seen on your face earlier when you slapped him—raw, unfiltered, and impossible to escape. His chest tightened, a heaviness settling in his stomach as he stood there, frozen, unable to look at you.

His hips stilled, his body rigid as the anger that had driven him to this point shifted, replaced by something softer—-sadder. His heart felt heavy in his chest, sinking like a stone in water.

All that was left in the alley was the erratic—-uneven sound of your breathing, each inhale a struggle, sweat slicking your skin, catching the light of the moon in fragile glimmers. The silence stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, the weight of what had just transpired hanging between you like a shroud, heavy and unresolved.

His mind was a blur, thoughts scattered and jumbled, short-circuiting in a way that left him dizzy. He couldn’t make sense of the guilt spiraling through him, the crushing weight of having crossed a line he hadn’t even seen until it was too late. Until you said what you had said.

That you loved him.

He removes his chest from your back, pulling himself out of you in the process.

Jayce reached for you, his hands trembling as he gently grasped your shoulders, his touch softer than it had been all night. His fingers barely brushed your skin, as if afraid to make contact after everything that had just happened. With a careful, almost reverent motion, he spun you around to face him. The moment your eyes met, his chest seemed to cave in on itself, a sickening weight settling there.

His heart felt like it had physically dropped, plummeting to the pit of his stomach with a sickening thud. The sight of you, tears streaking down your face, the raw anguish in your expression—it shattered him. Every ounce of anger, every moment of fury that had driven him earlier seemed like a distant memory in the face of the heartbreak he had caused.

How could he have been so reckless? The thought screamed in his mind, impossible to silence. The guilt that gripped him now was suffocating, crushing. He’d seen your pain in the heat of the moment, but now it hit him full force—really hit him. The tears in your eyes weren’t just a reminder of what he’d done; they were a reflection of how far he had pushed you, how little he had cared in the frenzy of his own anger.

And now, standing in front of you, he couldn’t undo it. All he could do was stare at the damage he had inflicted, helpless, terrified of what he’d become.

“___…” He whispers.

#jayce x reader #arcane imagine #arcane #arcane smut #jayce x reader smut #jayce talis x reader smut #jayce x reader angst #jayce talis angst #jayce talis smut #jayce arcane #jayce smut #jayce talis x reader angst

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agreeeeeeeeeee · 3 months ago

Note

i’m obsessed with your paul fic!! i loved the subtle lines from the song weaved into the story, you’re a wonderful writer 💓 part 2?? :)

alright, twist my arm 😂

pairing: Paul Lahote x human!reader

cw: MDNI 18+ smut, biting, trauma dumping, semi-public sex/ voyeurism (the werewolves can hear you)

Part One

Paul spun the two of you around, pressing you up against the wall as he claimed your mouth again. Every pass of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it felt like he was putting you back together again.

He kissed along your jaw, nudging your head up with his nose to start spoiling your neck. You dug your nails into his shoulders, clinging to him, and he made a low growling sound in his throat.

He turned his head suddenly and you felt his blunt teeth sink into your skin. Bright pain lanced up your shoulder. You yelped, but his tongue glided over the aching spot, soothing the bite mark he'd just made.

Heat pooled between your legs. He just bit you, and you fucking loved it.

He chuckled against the skin of your neck, an warm, melodic sound. “Liked that, hm?” He mumbled, trailing soft pecks back up to your lips.

You nodded, showing him just how much with a filthy kiss. He smiled against you before wrestling your tongue into submission.

You were light-headed from all the sensations. Pain, joy, fear, bone-melting desire, him.

Footsteps plodded up your front porch. “Hey, y/n, need any help with—oh shit. What happened to your door?”

Paul turned his head to glare at the intruder, but didn't make any move to lower you to the ground.

“I, uh—” Jacob stuttered, standing like a deer in headlights in the smashed doorway.

You kicked your feet, hoping Paul would get the message to put you down, but he only tightened his grip on your thighs.

The men stared at each other, and it took you a second to realize they were having an internal conversation.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“Really, you going to fuck her right in front of me?”

“I'd kill you right in front of her if she asked me to. Fuck off.”

“You can't just treat her like crap for six months and then decide you want her when she finally gets sick of your shit—”

A growl ripped from Paul’s chest. He could feel the shift coming, his wolf pressing beneath his skin with urgency. You squirmed in his arms, his grip too tight, and he set you on your feet.

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, and make you trust him even less.

“Paul.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, your skin blissfully cool against his, and to his shock, his wolf backed off a bit.

“Damn, she's got you trained already?” Jacob was taunting him now, being petty out of pathetic jealousy.

“I won't tell you again. Get out,” Paul snarled in his head.

“Y/n, seriously if you need help—”

“I think you should go, Jake,” y/n said, crossing your arms over your chest. Seeing Jacob’s arrogant smirk crumble was like Christmas fucking morning. “I won't be needing your help anymore.”

Delight curled along Paul’s spine, heightened further by the darkening bite mark he left at the curve of your shoulder, clear as day for Jacob, and the pack, to see.

You were his. And it was about time he started screaming it from the rooftops.

“Bye, Jake.” Paul grinned, walking across the room to show him the door. That he broke. Shit, I gotta fix that.

Jacob flipped him off and trudged down the stairs, climbing onto his little motorcycle and driving off. He'd be sour for a few days, but they always worked it out.

“I'm sorry about your door,” Paul said, picking it up and inspecting the hinge. He'd ripped the door clean off of it, tearing up the wood and bending the metal.

“It's okay,” you replied, shuffling your feet, a nervous energy wafting from you.

Now that the heat of the moment had waned, the reality of situation came crashing down around him. How could he have been so awful to you?

“Y/n, I—”

“You don't have to apologize.” You cut him off. “I know the imprint is challenging, and for you to bond with someone you hated so much…” you trailed off, eyes welling with tears.

Paul rushed over, pulling you into his chest. “I never hated you, I was—” he buried his head in your hair, shame burning under his skin, “—I was afraid.”

“Of me?” you sniffled against his chest, tears wet on his skin.

He shook his head, then nodded. “Yes and no. I was scared of what you knew, what a danger that posed to my family. And then I saw you and…and the imprint gave you so much power over me.”

Your hands curled into his sides, your head burrowing closer, like you were trying to crawl into his skin.

“Not only were you in the position to destroy my family, but I would have done it for you if you asked me to. Ripped myself to pieces if that's what you wanted.”

You lifted your tear-streaked face to look at him. “I would never do that—”

“I know, I know.” He shushed you, dropping a kiss to your red nose. “I know that now.”

“I even burned the notes—”

“What?” He held you out at arms length, dark brows drawn together. “When?”

“Months ago,” you said, and his jaw dropped.

“Months ago? Why?”

“You imprinted on me, and I didn't—I wanted—”

Affection overwhelmed him, making his eyes sting and nose tingle. He cupped your face and drew you back towards him, brushing his lips against yours. “You wanted to protect me,” he said, bumping your noses together.

You nodded, reaching up to wipe something from his cheek. Not a tear, fuck no.

“But your research? You didn't burn all of it, did you?”

“No, no. Just the things about the pack, and anything that would lead someone down the same path I took.”

Paul just stared down at you, awestruck. He couldn't believe that he was holding you, kissing you, sharing secrets with you. It was the sweetest agony he’d ever experienced, next to imprinting on you.

“Paul, I—to be clear, I do want to fuck you.”

He snorted a laugh at the subject change, warmth spreading from his chest to the tips of his ears. “But?” He raised an eyebrow.

“But could we just…hang out for awhile? I know you, but I don't feel like I know you. Like what's your favorite color?” Your fingers traced absent shapes on his chest, eyes flitting nervously around his face.

He brushed his thumb beneath your right eye. “This one, your eyes.”

“You better stop it or I'm going to climb your wolfy ass like a tree.” You swatted his hand away and took a step back, leaving him laughing.

God, when was the last time he laughed like this?

“How about we start with unpacking your things?” He offered. “And I'll fix your door.”

You gave him a relieved smile. “Sounds perfect.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You and Paul spent the rest of the day righting your home. While you unpacked, he not only fixed the door, but about ten other small, broken things you didn't have the tools, the height, or the wherewithal to repair yourself.

When the sun began to set, Paul left you bundled up on the couch to pick up take out from your favorite place in Forks. He stationed Seth outside your door for protection, and Seth gave you a thumbs up through the window.

Paul returned half-an-hour later, and you ate at the coffee table so you could watch a movie, legs curled up beneath you, Paul's hand resting heavily on your thigh. Between every bite, he leaned in for kiss.

After you finished, you climbed up onto the couch and stretched out across his chest, soaking up his radiant heat like cat. You knew you still had a long way to go before you'd be able to fully commit to him, although in a lot of ways you already had.

He'd been amazing today, thoughtful, attentive, almost goofy. But Rome wasn't built in a day, and for this relationship to work, it needed to stand on a sturdy foundation of trust and respect.

Not magic, lupine bonding instincts.

But you were confident that in time, you and Paul would get there.

***smut ahead!*** 🚨

You pressed a few kisses along the muscular expanse of his chest, marveling at the specimen of a man beneath you. His pecs just looked so…

“Watch yourself, bookworm,” he warned, fisting your hair and pulling your head back, revealing the bite mark you'd left over his heart.

You were about to ask why, when you felt something hard surge against your hip. A devilish smile curled your lips.

You rolled your hips against him, the lightest grind, and his eyes fluttered closed, head falling back onto the arm of the couch. His hands gripped your waist freezing you in place.

“Baby, don't play with me,” he groaned, his cock already straining against his flannel sweatpants.

“But it's fuuun,” you teased, fastening your lips to the already fading bite mark and sucking hard.

“I won't be gentle.”

“If I wanted gentle, I'd find Jacob.”

Paul flipped you beneath him, quicker than you could blink, his enormous weight pressing you into the couch. “Say his name while I'm around again, and he won't have a dick to fuck with,” he growled, grinding his cock over your clothed pussy.

Already, you were so sensitive, your body lighting up with pleasure from the friction, the rumble of his voice in your ear. You rocked back against him, chasing that feeling.

“You smell fucking divine, babygirl,” he groaned, burying his head into your neck as you ground against him, meeting you thrust for thrust like a couple of horny teenagers. “Drove me wild, smelling you all the damn time. Felt like you were turning yourself on just to get a rise out of me.” He lapped at your neck, dragging his tongue along your thundering pulse.

“I was,” you admitted, breathless, your peak just out of reach.

He pulled his head back, his hips lifting off of you. “You were?” You expected to see anger in his eyes, but they were molten with desire, a predator eyeing his prey.

You bit your lip, nodding.

“You know I wasn't the only one that could smell you, right?” He cocked his head, eyes skating down your torso pinned beneath him before flicking back up to your face.

“I knew it made you jealous. And I wanted them to see what was yours.”

A growl echoed from the barrel of his chest. “You're going to be the fucking death of me.” He smashed his mouth to yours in a brutal, claiming kiss, his canines dragging across your lips before parting them with his tongue.

His hands found the buttons of your pj top, ripping it open like it was made of tissue paper, sending buttons scattering across the room.

“Hey!” You protested.

“I'll buy you a hundred more,” he said, diving into your bare tits, popping one pert nipple into his hot mouth, then the other, lashing them mercilessly with his tongue.

You cried out, arching into his mouth.

“Be as loud as you want, baby. Let them hear what's mine.” He tugged down your shorts, two thick fingers gliding over your soaked panties. You moaned again, lifting your hips to chase his touch. “That's it, y/n. Already so wet for me.”

He caught your mouth once more, swallowing your next sound as he slipped his fingers under your panties, making direct contact with your weeping pussy. He dipped the tip of his middle finger inside before swirling it around your clit, sending you into fucking orbit.

You bucked against him, throwing your head back against the couch cushions as your body tightened, your walls clenching around nothing. “Please,” you whined against his cheek. “Need you.”

“Aw, no more snarky ass comments?” He teased, lightly slapping your sensitive clit, just enough to make you writhe beneath him.

“Paul,” you begged, trying and failing to reach for his cock. He was too damned tall. “I've waited so long.” You knew you sounded pitiful, and if he hadn't rendered your brain to needy, slutty mush, you'd be mortified.

“I know, you’ve been such a patient girl for me.” He reached between you, freeing his cock so it slapped against your inner thigh. “I'm sorry it took me so long to take care of this sweet pussy.” He shifted himself down until his mouth was level with your slit. “Just a taste, baby? Then I promise to fuck you stupid.”

You nodded vigorously, carding your fingers through his black hair. You never thought Paul would be so chatty during sex, not that you were complaining. The filthy words in his growly voice was like music to your ears.

He flattened his tongue against your slit, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, and you nearly came right then and there.

“Fuck, Paul,” you moaned, tightening your grip on his hair. His rumble of satisfaction vibrated your sensitive skin and you shivered. “I'm so fucking close.”

You didn't have to tell him twice. He started feasting on your pussy with abandon, slurping and sucking like you were his favorite meal on earth. Stars danced behind your eyes, broken moans and gibberish falling from your lips. You were certain the entire pack, and probably the next pack over, could hear you crying out for him, but you didn't give a single fuck.

He eased a finger inside of you, curling it against your spongy walls, and you shattered, an orgasm ripping through you at dizzying speed.

You screamed so loud he flinched, glancing up at you to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he purred, gently lapping at your clit as you twitched and jerked away, oversensitive. “Damn near broke my finger.” He rose up to hover over you, pressing light kisses along your cheeks and eyelids, coaxing you back to him.

You threw your arms around his neck and brought your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. You felt him chuckle, his hands sliding under your back to press your hips against him.

“Something funny?” You nipped at his lower lip.

“They're begging me to keep it down,” he snickered.

“We'll get them some ear plugs.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock. The skin was so hot you nearly pulled away, the head slick with precum and pulsing against your wrist.

He grunted, his hips thrusting into your hand. “Now who’s playing.” He batted your hand away, and leaned back to line himself up with your entrance. “Ready for me?”

“God, yes.” You threw your head back as he started to slide in, your walls clenching hard around him.

“Let me in, babygirl,” he cooed, rubbing your thigh slung over his hip.

You forced your muscles to relax, breathing hard, and he slowly stretched you open, pain and pleasure stirring together until you couldn't differentiate the two, lost in the exquisite torture of him.

“I won't last five minutes with you squeezing me like that—fuck,” his voice cracked into a low moan, his hips stuttering forward almost involuntarily. “You know what? C’mere.” He guided your arms to wrap around his neck and braced his forearm against your lower back. In a quick movement, he stood up, bringing you with him.

Your bodies didn't separate an inch, your tits squished against his chest, his cock still buried inside you. Gravity pulled you down a little father onto him, in fact, and you both groaned at the new angle.

He carried you across the house and into your bedroom, tossing you onto the pillows by your headboard. You hadn't even stopped bouncing before he pounced, sliding back into your heat with a little more ease than before.

“There we go,” he murmured into your neck, drawing his hips back before rolling them forwards.

You clawed at his back, moaning against his ear as he thrust into you again and again, filling you near to splitting, before retreating again. Soon, you were stupid with pleasure, mumbling incoherently and lifting your hips in time with his.

“Look at you, so fucking pretty taking my cock. Feel good, baby?”

You nodded, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as he picked up the pace, pounding into you.

“Want to feel you come around me. Can you do that for me ‘fore I fill you up?” The pad of his middle finger circled your clit, making your eyes roll back into your head, your muscles turning to goo.

His was fighting to keep a stable pace, his muscles rippling across his abdomen, veins bulging along his thick arms. You could tell he was close, his eyes locked on where your bodies met.

“Fuck, Paul. I'm gonna come,” you whined, gripping his thighs as your body wound itself up, spiraling endlessly tighter.

“I'm with ‘ya, babygirl. C’mon,” he panted, making tighter circles on your clit, his whole body trembling with the effort to control himself.

The coil in your stomach snapped, hurtling you over your peak at the same moment he came undone, both of you crying out as the tsunami of pleasure dragged you down together.

You felt his cock buck inside of you, filling you with his boiling hot release. The temperature soothed your overworked muscles, and you sagged into the bed with a contented sigh. Your whole body was shivering in aftershocks, small waves of pleasure making you clench around his softening length.

He eased himself down onto your left side, gathering you into his chest. His heart hammered beneath his shining skin, sweat collecting along the grooves of muscle and his hairline.

“You're incredible,” he murmured, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your bruised lips. “Never thought I'd see you beg for me.”

You couldn't even think of a rebuttal, all of the attitude wrung out of your body like a sponge. You just swatted at his chest, though it took a concerted effort to even lift your arm.

“In all fairness, I’d beg like a dog for you,” he whispered, smiling.

“How the mighty fall,” you teased, kissing underneath his jaw.

You both were quiet for a few moments, breathing in time with one another, your heart beats synchronizing. Peace like you hadn't felt in years settled over you, an overwhelming *rightness* that welded your fractured heart together again.

This was the reason you came to Forks, even if you didn't know it at the time. Your soul was searching for his.

“So…” he shifted to look down at you. “Ready to go to dinner at Sam’s?”

You groaned, burying your head into his neck as he burst out laughing.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

aggggghhh, I love him.

Hope you enjoyed! 🫶

#paul lahote twilight #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x you #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #wolf pack #twilight wolfpack #twilight fanfiction #paul twilight #twilight fandom #the twilight saga #twilight smut #twilight werewolves #twilight #new moon #imprint #twilight imagine #paul lahote imagine

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themultifanshipper · 5 months ago

Note

Do you think you could do something like this

https://www.tumblr.com/themultifanshipper/759431110157631488/quiet-innocent-reader-x-lando-like-lando-finds

Maybe with Oscar ( love your writing)

If Oscar had to describe your sex life in one word : Vanilla.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that! God knows how much the two of you enjoyed the sex you had. You weren’t very experienced when you met Oscar, and you were quite a shy person.

Which is why Oscar was so shocked when he found what appeared to be a list of your kinks just sitting there when he got up to make his morning coffee.

Fun fact, this request was sent over a month ago, and i only have a couple more to do before i can get to my own stuff lmao

Warnings: innocent reader, Smut, PinV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, mention of lots of kinks n stuff

Part 2

He hadn’t meant to get a glimpse into the inner workings of your sexual psyche, but really, who leaves something like that on the kitchen counter???

As he read it over and over again, his cock twitched in interest and got progressively harder until he put it down, the words seared onto his brain forever.

He tried to have a cold shower but just ended up jerking off furiously to completion imagining doing all the things from your list.

But as soon as he got out of the shower and dried off, he realized he was still achingly hard. He decided to put on a pair of his loosest joggers and go about his day while he waited for you to come back from work.

It wasn’t easy, but he managed to answer a whole two emails, internally debating the moral implications of communicating with his bosses while sporting an erection.

Then he jerked off again.

It did take the edge off for a bit, but every time he thought about it during the day he couldn’t help but fist his cock at the thought of all your filthy fantasies.

When you got home, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, and you did your usual routine: shower, skincare, dinner with a glass of wine, followed by watching something with Oscar, the two of you huddled up together on the couch.

That’s when you started noticing Oscar’s behaviour.

It was very subtle, but you could tell he wasn’t at all focused on the movie, periodically fidgeting around uncharacteristically. Oscar was usually very settled, and tonight it was like he couldn’t keep still for more than 30 seconds. You also noticed his breathing was irregular, often getting shallower as he fidgeted.

Oscar couldn’t care less about what was happening on the screen, his brain was focused on the same thing it had been all day, that damn list.

And he’d been hard all day, which certainly didn’t help his internal crisis.

“Oscar” you sighed, pausing the movie “Talk to me, tell me what’s going on with you tonight”

“Nothing’s wrong, why would there be something wrong?” his mouth said, but his flushed cheeks were proof that he was hiding something.

If looks could kill, the one you gave him would have certainly done the trick.

“I… full honesty?” he asked quietly.

You nodded “Full honesty”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Okay, but you can’t get mad at me”

You narrowed your eyes at him “That’s not a promise I can make, but I’ll do my best”

He bit his lip before taking your hands in his.

“I uh… I found your list”

You just stared at him. “What list?”

“This one…” he took the piece of paper out of his pocket where it had been burning a metaphorical hole in his hip ever since he’d found it.

He handed it to you, but you didn’t need to unfold it to know what it was. I was a bright pink piece of paper that had been ripped out of your diary the night before.

You completely froze, panic overtaking you.

“Oh my god. Oscar…” You couldn’t look him in the eyes as you tried to explain “you weren’t meant to find that I’m so sorry! I was going to throw it away this morning and I guess I put it down and completely forgot about it. Fuck- please don’t think I’m weird or whatever and just forget about it, okay? Please?”

You put your head in your hands and whined in distress. This couldn’t be happening. Your loving boyfriend had just learned about your depraved fantasies, and he was never going to see you the same way again.

“I can’t forget about it baby, I spent the entire day jerking off about it”

You head snapped up to finally look into his eyes, your jaw hanging in disbelief. You could tell he was dead serious and your gaze slowly trailed downwards towards his pants, where you could tell he was hard, then back up to his face to find him biting his lip so hard it was turning white.

“you- what?”

“Sweetheart, I got so hard when I read it, I almost got in my car to come and get you from work. I want to do every thing on that list with you” he leaned closer to you and whispered “Every. Single. Thing.”

His arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, lips coming to brush against your neck. “especially number 3…”

You glanced at the list, seeing what he was referring to and gasped.

“Oscar!”

He chuckled into the crook of your neck.

“Who knew you were so dirty, hmm? Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“I- I didn’t know how to ask” you stuttered as he nipped at the skin of your shoulder.

“That right? Well ask me now, then” he said and you frowned in confusion.

“What?”

“Ask me. Go down the list, and ask me to do those things to you…”

His lips trailed down your body and his hands pushed you to lay down on the sofa as you spluttered in confusion. “I don’t- what?”

“What’s the first thing on the list?” he asked, he knew of course, but he needed to hear you say it.

You blushed, checking the list.

“Choking…”

“Then ask me to choke you”

You shuddered as his mouth continued downwards and his hands spread your legs, one of them pushing your flimsy pyjama shorts to the side to expose you to him.

“Oscar what-“

“I want to see how wet you get just from saying it, go on then.” He ordered and you keened as a finger dipped through your barely moist folds.

“I want you… to uhm” your blush deepened and Oscar smiled at you condescendingly.

“Go on baby, you can do it”

You gulped.

“I want you to choke me” you squeezed your eyes shut at the admission, but Oscar was having none of it.

“Now fucking look at me and ask me again”

You gasped and your eyes flew open to look at him.

“I want you to choke me!”

“Good girl” he stroked your thigh “Next thing?”

You glanced at the list still clutched tightly in you hands.

“Spanking.”

Oscar cocked his head to the side. “What about spanking?”

Your jaw clenched, the fucker knew how to get what he wanted.

“I want you to spank me”

He smiled and nodded for you to continue.

“I want you to fuck me over the balcony for everyone to see” you said, and Oscar’s pupils dilated as he used his fingers to spread you open for him.

“Yeah? Want everyone to see how fucking filthy you actually are?” You whined as his thumb came to dip inside you briefly before rubbing it in slow circles over your clit.

“I want you to degrade and praise me…”

He felt like he was barely holding on to his sanity at this point.

“That’s so hot, fuck.” He palmed himself through his sweats “You want to be my good girl yeah? Want to be my good little slut? Only thing you’re good for anyway…”

You whimpered, his words making your whole body heat up, and took a deep breath before continuing.

“I want you to fuck my mouth”

He had to grip himself through his pants to ground himself, your words having an enormous effect on his composure.

Where had his sweet little innocent girlfriend gone?

“I’ll fuck your mouth baby, make you fucking drool for it, god you’d look so pretty taking me down your throat”

You were definitely wet now, and he took the liberty of sliding a finger inside you and hooking it upwards just to watch you squirm as he rubbed that special spot inside you.

“I want you to tie me up and force me to take it” you said breathlessly.

The noise he let out at that was animalistic as his wide eyes found yours and his jaw went slack as he pulled his pants down just enough to get a hand around himself.

“You have no idea how hot you’d look all tied up and helpless under me baby, it’s making me so hard just thinking about it..”

You moaned as he added a second finger inside you.

“I want, fuck- I want you to use me, and fill me up with your cum whenever you want”

“Shit.” He hissed “Fuck baby, I’m going to fill you up so good, you'll see…”

“Please”

You hadn’t realised how close you were getting, but Oscar’s expert fingers were making you delirious as you continued.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk, want to cry from how good you feel inside me, wanna beg for your cock”

Oscar growled and pulled his fingers out.

“Then beg”

He settled over you, putting his weight on you, his dick resting against your folds as he panted into your mouth.

“Beg for my cock, slut”

You were so fucking turned on. Dominant Oscar was something new, but so, so incredibly hot you would have done absolutely anything to have him inside you at that moment.

“Please, please Osc, I need it. I need your cock so bad, please!”

He growled and slid in to the hilt without warning, making you moan into the heated kiss he was currently giving you to distract you. He was thick and the stretch was delicious as his cock dragged along your walls, making you see stars.

He started a deep, hard pace and his hips slapped against yours, obscene sounds filling the room.

“Fuck baby, so fucking wet for me. This what you wanted all along? For me to fucking ruin you on my cock?”

“Yes, Oscar, fuck!”

He chuckled darkly.

“That’s a good girl, so fucking tight, You’re getting close aren’t you? I can sweet your sweet pussy clenching around me, trying to keep me inside...”

He gripped your hips harder and angled his thrusts upwards, nailing your g-spot, and you were a goner. White spots danced in your vision as the pleasure overcame you, cunt spasming around Oscar.

“Perfect, perfect cunt. And it’s all fucking mine” he growled as he finally spilled inside you, filling you to the brim and forcing a pathetic whimper out of you at the new feeling.

Oscar had never come inside you before, and it was insanely hot. The feeling of your slick, hot walls pulsing around him was pure heaven and he couldn’t wait to test everything on that list.

After you’d regained your breath, you chuckled silently to yourself while stroking Oscar's back.

If this is what you got for leaving your list out, maybe you should tell Oscar about your box of toys in the in the back of your closet…

#my thots #oscar thots #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #op81 #ask #request

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maxivstappen · 6 months ago

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THE GREATEST — TRUE BLUE

[ part one / masterlist / requests are open ]

☽｡⋆ part 2 of THE GREATEST. he tried to live without you, but how is one to survive with a broken heart? a story based on TRUE BLUE by billie eilish. — lando norris x fem!reader (could technically be read as a stand-alone)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 angst, hurt & comfort, hints of fluff (?) 𝄞 4.1k words

❝ Lights out, you’re not here holding me ❞

Lando had never before felt the way he did the day you left him. Seeing you walk through that door, intending to never come back to him ever again, it pained him. It took him too long to realize how much he hurt you, and now he had to suffer the consequences. He swore it wasn’t on purpose, but when his friends told him that also the third girl he had brought along since you broke up with him resembled you in a way, he stopped denying. There was no use. The guys knew, the internet knew, he knew that he wasn’t yet over you. And he thinks he never will be. You left an empty place in his heart, a place that would forever be reserved for you only and you only. No matter how hard he tried to find someone else, no one would ever be able to replace you.

The girl he brought to the first race after the summer break was long forgotten already.

At first, everyone around him believed him when he said he felt happier now without you. But the moment he went back to his old ways, the heartbreaker they’ve known for so long, they realized he wasn’t. The girls always looked like you. He only rarely smiled anymore and he couldn‘t care less about his friends‘ relationships, even going as far as faking a gag or simply not coming to hang out with them at all. He said it’s because he needs to focus on racing. They knew it was because of you. Lando was yet to tell them why the relationship ended. He’d rather crash his car and DNF in every race for the rest of his life than to ever have to talk about the night you left ever again. He felt embarrassed and bad and was so terribly regretful. Only his parents knew the whole truth. He told them with tears caressing his face just like you once did, and seeing the disappointment in their eyes, he felt his heart rip apart even more. They had loved you so much, only waiting for the day he would finally go down on one knee for you, and now he messed it all up.

If he could just go back and make it all alright. Make you feel unconditionally loved wherever you went, make you happy, keep you happy. He would change it all if he just had the chance, but he knew you deserved better. Maybe one day, he could be better again.

He is ready to give up the very thing for you that had made you leave him that night if you’d ask him to. Racing would never again mean as much to him as you, though broken up, still do to him.

He was currently seated in his McLaren, waiting for the lights to go out so he could try his very best to overtake max at the start already. He should have his mind on the track. He shouldn’t think about you, not here. But like always, he couldn’t help it. He hoped to see you in the stands once he was able to get out of the car again. He hoped to see you wave and smile at him, run into his arms and let him kiss you all over, do all the things he had failed to do so many months ago. He knew it wouldn’t happen. He believed anyway. The lights went out and the cars began moving. He tried his best, he always did, but he wasn‘t afraid to lose anymore; for what was it worth to win a race when he had faced the greatest loss of them all already?

❝ I count every tear down my cheek instead of sheep ❞

You couldn’t sleep. You could never sleep while he was racing. Especially when he was on the other side of the world, which is why you went with him last season, and also at the start of this one. Maybe you never should’ve. Long distance was hard, but you managed. He felt farther away when he was still sleeping next you every night. At least when he didn’t send you off to sleep on the couch.

You tossed and turned in your sleep, but you didn’t dare to turn on the TV. It’s been months, you should try to live without him. Without seeing him. Without feeling for him. His races had nothing to do with you, neither did the outcome. And god, if he wins and you have to watch him kiss someone else again you might as well just take his racing car and drive right into the nearest wall. He’s so far away and yet, it didn’t make you love him any less. You huffed, fear slowly building up inside of you. You knew you shouldn’t do this, you had to wake up early tomorrow and really, it wouldn’t be that bad to miss a race once or twice, but you couldn’t help it. Reaching for the remote, your eyes were flooded with tears and your heart stung like never before when you saw him driving out there. You were rooting for him nonetheless. Just months ago you had watched the races from inside the McLaren hospitality, but now? All alone in your bed, anxiously following his every move. You would never fall asleep like this.

❝ Sleepwalk, find myself on your street. Three knocks, ring the bell, then I leave ❞

And there you stood high up in the stands the next weekend, head hanging low as you didn‘t want any fans of him recognizing you, back in his territory. You tried to ignore him, you really did, but your eyes kept following him around the paddock and didn’t leave him even while he was doing the quick interviews he had to do on his way there. And honestly, it kinda felt like home. Attending the races. Being near him. Being with him. You missed it more than anything else in the world, and you felt pathetic for it. He hurt you every way he could, and still, he didn’t hurt you enough to make you hate him. And you really wanted to hate him.

You went to the race together with one of your friends from uni. You bonded over formula 1 and your shared passion for the sport and quickly became very good friends. However, she had to leave soon, moving to another city for a better starting point for her career. Hence, you decided to save some money and go to a race together for the last time; for now, at least. You still remember the way she looked at you when you told her you were with Lando. The way you swooned over him to her, and the way you cried your eyes out when it all ended. You really thought you‘d be able to spend the rest of your life with him, and now all you had left of him were memories. She‘s known you long enough to immediately notice your longing after him the moment your eyes locked onto his dark brown curls. Your heart fluttered and it made you nauseous. One day this would stop, right? Your feeling must fade at least sometime, or was this all just wishful thinking? Could you not just get over him like everyone else got over their exes and start dating someone new?

Your heart ached. He was so close, not out of reach anymore, not on the other side of the world anymore, but still, there was no way of getting back to him, the crash barriers and the grandstand keeping you away, and it felt like the end of your relationship all over again, with him on the track and you sitting and waiting patiently on the sidelines, always at least an arm length distance between you two. You shouldn’t even want to get him back. You left out a sigh as he walked into the McLaren hospitality, finally out of sight. But still not out of mind.

Your friend huffed next to you, and finally decided to try and convince you to talk to him after the race while you were still in the same place, to get closure at last. You knew it must annoy your friends and maybe even your family that it was so hard for you to just move on. They put effort into understanding, but still, Lando wasn‘t good to you, at least not in the end. Many would treat you better, but you didn‘t seem to care. You quickly shook your head no, telling her how he probably didn’t want to talk to you and that catching him after the race would be nearly impossible, with bodyguards and tons and tons of interviewers and cameras around him.

The conversation ended soon after, as the lights went out and the drivers hit the gas. You pondered for a second, reconsidering your friend‘s suggestion, a weird feeling building up in your stomach. Maybe you shouldn’t even be here, maybe you should *leave* after the race and never look back. But to your dismay, every sense in your body was telling you to stay.

❝ I try to live in black and white but I’m so blue ❞

The race went well, but he didn‘t really care. Of course he was happy, the whole team was euphoric for their two drivers who secured place 2 and 4, huge smiles plastered on their faces. Once he was done with the post-race interviews he left to go back and get some rest inside his apartment, at least until the others came around to drag him to the afterparty, slandering from one club into the next one.

Everything felt so lonely without you. His bed was cold even when he was hidden under his blanket, and the dining room was nothing more than a reminder that he wasn‘t spending his evenings with you. Watching TV got boring. Everything got boring. He didn’t even know why he lost you anymore, he didn’t know what the hell it was that made him believe you weren’t made for him, making him believe there was actually something more important than you in this lifetime. You haunted his every thought, and even though he truly only wanted the best for you, deep inside him, he wanted you to still need him as well.

He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, gently buttoning up his shirt like you used to do, always leaving the 3 highest ones unbuttoned. He missed your touch, your eyes looking up at him and your hands always reaching for his. His arms would be wrapped around your waist and his head would be leaning on your shoulder, sneaking a few, small kisses up your neck as you changed your earrings for the night, the imagine of it painted onto your fast beating heart as you stood in front of the full-body mirror in your apartment, finishing up your accessoires. You wore a blue dress that covered your thighs, not reaching your knees. It hugged you in all the right places, accentuating your features. It used to be Lando‘s favourite, but you had no other alternative, not having brought any other dresses. Your friend insisted on going clubbing anyway, desperately wanting to finally get him off your mind for one night at least.

The other drivers were loud and happy and drunk and Lando sat next to them, staring at his already empty glass. He knew how this would go. At some point, either the drivers or one of their girls would tap his shoulder, saying they have a friend they think he would really like, and if he would like to be introduced to her. He would agree so they would finally keep their mouths shut, he would talk to the girl. Maybe they would kiss if he drank enough. Maybe he would take her home. Maybe he would think about you the whole time, maybe he would accidentally call her your name. Maybe he would wake up in the morning and would be happy that she‘d left, content with it only being a one-time thing and not meaning anything.

Because, in the end, nothing meant anything without you.

He pretended to laugh at the jokes of his friends, but really, none of this was fun to him. These nights were nothing more than a constant reminder of how he used to have his fun while you were waiting for him at home, cold and sad and alone. How could he be so stupid and leave you alone all the time? He doesn’t even know why he did it anymore. He yawned, very obviously not enjoying the party. Yes, it was nice seeing his friends so happy, the mood wasn’t as tense as it was around and on the track and the people inside the night club were vivid, dancing and drinking, seemingly having the time of their life downing countless beverages, but still, the happiness didn’t reach him.

“Dude, I think your girl‘s here.“ Oscar pushed him slightly, two vodka bull in hand for himself and Lily. Lando didn’t pay him any mind and rolled his eyes, not really in the mood for talking to any girl that isn’t you at the moment. Couldn’t they just give up? He wasn’t ready yet for someone else, he didn’t even know if he wanted to be with someone that isn’t you at all. Ever. Instead of arguing with Oscar about how he didn’t want to hear from any other girl right now, he went to get another drink as well.

He pushed through the dense crowd of people, navigating through the cacophony of laughter and piercing yelling that seemed to echo from all directions. The deafening loud music blasting through his ears made it difficult to focus, and the harsh sound of glass clunking together only added to it. The colorful LED lights rapidly switched from green to red to purple to yellow in a matter of seconds, creating a dizzying light show that overwhelmed his vision. This sensory onslaught of sounds, sights, and sensations overstimulated his senses, making each step forward feel like an effort.

Finally at his destination, he waited for the waiter or waitress, he wasn’t quite sure, to get his order. He wasn’t certain what his plan was that night at all. Sleeping around or not, you wouldn’t stop haunting his mind anyway, so was it really worth it? Getting drunk and trying to make his nights feel less lonesome? Or should he just wait and really focus on his carrer again until maybe, one day, you’d come back?

He ignored the possibilty of you not coming back at all.

He let his eyes wander around the scene unfolding in front of him, occasionally making eye contact with random girls who winked at him and tried to get his attention, but he didn’t pay them any mind. Frustration started to bubble up inside of him as the wait for his drink seemed to go on for forever, until suddenly, his heart skipped a beat.

Lando was certain that in a room full of people, he would always be able to notice you first. He pondered if it was you whenever he‘d walk by a girl with the same hair colour as you, immediately dismissing the thought when he saw a face that didn’t match yours just a second later. But this time, it was different. The hair ressembled yours without a doubt, and of course he remembered the dress he had bought for you so long ago; never once had he been able to keep his hands to himself when you wore it. The height matched you perfectly as well. But it couldn’t be you, right?

Oscar‘s words replayed in his mind and he finally understood what he meant. Who he meant.

It was really you.

You tried to enjoy the party, but you really weren’t doing so well. Your friend had left you near the bar, thinking you’d be hitting it off with a guy you’ve been talking to for some time, but that wasn’t the case. he left just five minutes after to go home, asking if you’d like to come with him. You denied, but your friend was nowhere to be found, having found someone in this club herself. It was scary being alone in a club full of drunk, intoxicated people, even more so when you sensed someone staring at you from behind. You didn’t have to worry about things like that when you were still with Lando, with him always stuck to your side, a protective arm hanging around your shoulders. you shuddered at the thought, and dared to turn around to find the very person who was looking at you so steadily.

And then you locked eyes.

The world suddenly went quiet. All the chaos, the noise, it all faded into the background, no sound to be heard other than the synchronised, rapid beating of your heart. It seemed as if the only two people in that room were you and him, only the void surrounding the two of you. The LEDs turned blue, engulfing you and him, the light accentuating your features and he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, stuck in a trance of what this could mean for him in the future; what this could mean for you both. Time seemed to stand still. He wanted to run to you, to hold you, to tell you how much he missed you, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor. His breath hitched and so did yours, all the yearning, all the longing hitting you and him at lightspeed.

You walked towards him, each step filled with electricity. The tension was palpable, his mouth agape as you stood in front of him, only centimeters away from closing the gap between you. There was so much he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to apologize, so many things he wanted to make right, but he didn‘t dare to say things first, afraid too scare you off. The last thing he wanted is for you to leave him again.

“I didn‘t know you‘d be here, thought I‘d seen Oscar but I wasn‘t sure,“ you started, stumbling over your own words, laughing awkwardly, then biting your lip right after. He noticed, because you always did that when you were nervous; you’d done it too when you broke up with him. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but that would be a lie, one he could look right through of. You just couldn‘t process actually being in his presence again.

“You still wear the dress?“

“It‘s, uhm, quite pretty, so yeah.“ You nodded along to your own words, gulping at the tense and awkward silence right after, looking down at your shoes, the sight of him in this light still not leaving your mind. Maybe he didn‘t even feel the same way, maybe he didn‘t even want to talk to you. Maybe you already made a fool of yourself when you made your way over to him, maybe you really should‘ve just stayed at home. But at the same time, this is what you‘d hoped for this whole time. To finally see him again.

“I‘m so sorry for what I did to you, y/n, please believe me. E-Ever since you left, I couldn‘t stop thinking about you. Not once. I tried to move on, y‘know, would probably be better for you as well, ‘cause you deserve better than how I‘ve treated you at the end and I don‘t want to have to put you through that again but I just- I miss you so much, I don‘t know what to do! And now you‘re here and I swear I‘ve been waiting for a moment like this and-,“ he stopped for a second, heavy and shaky breaths filling the silence, „If giving up racing means you‘ll let me come back to you, I‘ll do it.“

Your teary eyes widened and you looked up at him again, staring into his. One could take it as an empty promise. But you knew better than anyone else that Lando wasn’t one to joke about racing, ever. “Lando you can’t just- I- I mean, racing? It didn‘t work before Lan I just- don‘t give up your dreams for me, please? You shouldn‘t, you have so much ahead of you still,“ you sighed out, every single part of your body overwhelmed like never before.

But Lando was certain. He traced every yet so small feature of your face and body with his eyes, and he knew in that exact moment that, no matter what, he could never lose you again. Not this time. Not when fate hat somehow brought you together once again, giving him a second chance to make it all better. Question was now if you’d let him have that second chance too.

He lifted his hand to gently wipe away the tear running down your cheek, having you lean into his familiar touch. “I’ll do it for you”, he said, and that was when you broke apart, legs feeling numb and wobbly suddenly. Tears streamed down your face as you took another step forward and he wrapped his arms around your body out of reflex, gently placing soft kisses on top of your head, tearing up as well as your cried into his chest.

Maybe it was bad, maybe you shouldn’t feel like this again, but you’ve never once after the breakup felt as at peace with yourself and your as you did now, even if you were in a loud and busy club, surrounded by drunk and high people. You managed to push them to the back of your mind, the familiar scent of Lando’s perfume calming your senses. It felt like home. Maybe he really did owe you something, and though you once were anguished because of it, you wouldn’t ever deprive him of the joy of racing. There would be a way through it without having to abandon any of your or his dreams. There must be if you want it to work out, and you were sure that this time, it would. And so was he.

Lando took you home with him that night, not before you shot your friend a quick text message, afraid she might think you were kidnapped or whatnot. You knew that you’d have to fly home again in two days. He knew that too, but there was no need to rush things anyway. You were still his and he was still yours, and that’s all that mattered for now. It’s gonna be weird explaining this to your friends and your family, but neither of you minded it as long as it meant you could be with each other again. You would have to talk things through and see how you’d manage the race weekends and the events and the media - but not now. Now, with you calmly and lightly snoring in his arms, he didn’t care about any of that, simply content with having you again.

He promised you before you drifted off into your tranquil slumber that he will make it right this time. He will be there for you no matter what, he will defend you and take you with him and show you off and love you like already should have done all these months ago. This time, he will put in the work and the appreciation and the effort, and then, you will finally be able to be the greatest.

❝ I’d like to mean it when I say I’m over you, but that’s still not true. ❞

taglist for part 2 of the greatest : @mrs-saturday @tylerstacobell @angeltroian @acesbakery @directioner5life @malynn @escuellasceramicdollie @strangetoadroadbat @norrisdriver @aliceisnuts @carlando4 @f1fantasys @no-144444 @belivisa @callsignwidow @cruzgrecia @ifsoniacouldfly @wony6ung @hurtblossom @faeriepigeons @interlagos @xnatqq @fanficweasley @youreintheclubb @chaimaarouaine11 @idgasb @cruzgrecia @madstxo @trisharee (basically everyone who commented vv sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!)

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cosmichorrorlesbians · 5 months ago

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These were the Silt Verses.

(closeups/design notes/rambling under the cut, because it took me over a month to make this so I'm going to be a little self-indulgent.)

spoilers for the whole podcast ahead!

Our protagonists! Notes:

Some of these came out more accurate to how I see them than others. Hayward in particular looks much less grimy and haggard than I imagine him. Carpenter, on the other hand, is perfect in my eyes. Shrue is (subconsciously) very much inspired by the wonderful @unbloodiedmartyr's rendition of them (thanks Sacha, your art goes insanely hard!)

Hayward and Paige face away, a nod to their final parting. Carpenter and Faulkner face one another, in deference to their final reunion.

Val and Shrue are both shown at the moment of their deaths.

Paige, the only character confirmed to survive the immediate finale, is the only one with closed eyes.

I'm a blond Faulkner truther. Sorry.

Someone left some really really insane tags on a Valpost I made like a month ago about how Val can alter her appearance as she pleases, but the Last Word can never convince her not to see the actual aftermath of her torture when she looks in the mirror, and it sent me a little crazy, so I was trying to capture that failing self-deceit here. She's meant to look absurdly young, but where the flames overlay her face, you can see the prayer marks and lacerations on her skin.

I had this out on my desk for days and every time a family member dropped by I had to frantically hide the fact I was drawing 'politician gets shot in the head' fanart. RIP.

These are the marks of the Many Below! They look Not Great enlarged, but hey ho. I wanted them to look hidden and incidental, separated in each corner as they are:

'Begin with a balbis on its side. Within the two spaces, a circle marked by a single dot.' Drawn in the silt of the White Gull River.

'Beneath this, a pair of concentric circles. Within the annulus, an ovoid with a slit - a staring eye.' Scrawled across the pug postcard Cross uses to write his idea to scapegoat Shrue.

'Under that, a lemniscate over a heptagram[...]' Made up of the ribbon that binds Mercer and Gage's rifles.

'[...]and three parallel lines beneath.' Faulkner's staff, broken into three pieces.

Interstitial illustrations. There are four sets of these, which (roughly) correspond to more stand-alone episodes & fan favourites. This is my favourite, for my beloved Chapter 36: All Lovers Part As Dust. I had a blast distilling recurring motifs of the episode into one little illustration, and I'm really proud of the result; I think it captures the match of sweet and bitter that the episode in question inspires. The clock points to the eleventh hour.

These are pretty self-explanatory: I couldn't pass up a chance to draw the inciting miracle of the series, and it made sense to pair it with the image of Paige and Hayward sailing downriver at the end of Season 2, an image which has always haunted me.

The hare and the owl are from Chapter 26, a symbol of the Wound Tree's emergence. The lobster and fish are intended as a nod to Faulkner and Rane, a character who I love but couldn't include more overtly. Lobsters are seen as a symbol of devotion and fidelity because, apocryphally, they mate for life, and yet the lobster here is without its pair. The fish was intended to be a remora, which swims beside sharks. (Yes, I'm aware remora are tropical sea-dwelling fish, and humbly beg any marine biologists reading this not to kill me on the spot).

The Killing And Violence Siblings!

These object illustrations were deliberately positioned as parallels and specifically reference Season 2, marking the point of the poem that is made up of that series' titles (an attention to the series chronology that roughly coheres throughout the piece. Very roughly.)

Mercer and Gage's rifles are twisted round with a red ribbon, which bleeds into the White Gull, binding them together and reflecting how they're rarely seen apart. The ribbon's also a deliberate parallel to the banner wrapping Carpenter and Faulkner's hands elsewhere in the art.

Carpenter's axe and Faulkner's sororicidal mirror shard are depicted alongside fish hooks, as though they're separated for much of the season, the Parish draws them back together in the end. Also an echo of Paige's line, 'Love is just a meat hook for you to catch me on.'

There's only blood on one of the rifles, in a nod to Mercer and Gage's uneven dynamic.

Bookend landscapes. The pages were intended to reference the Silt Verses as an in-story document, and represent the themes of truth, myth and record throughout.

The illumination!

It was always going to be a radio-- not a nod specifically to Sid Wright, but really to the use of broadcast, music and sound throughout the show. TSV's sound design is truly one of the things I admire most about it.

The radio is meant to be on Carpenter and Faulkner's dashboard, as they drive along the river in the very first episode, hence its positioning at the start of the poem.

I conceived this as the centre of the piece, and drew the rest around it.

aaaand that was a lot. I didn't cover everything, and I recommend clicking on the final piece to get full quality and see how the details interact with one another-- but if you've read through all these meanderings, thank you, sibling. I started this two weeks after the finale, and managed a full relisten while drawing. It's been a labour of love, and I now hate watercolours more than I have words for.

#IT'S DONE IT'S DONE FINALLY I CAN REST #my hand hurts so much...#the silt verses #the silt verses fanart #tsv #tsv fanart #tsv spoilers #the silt verses spoilers #I mean the spoilers are mostly subtle. aside from what's happening to Shrue and Val maybe?? but still.#my art #✨️

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acciotaitlynn · 3 months ago

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It's only been a few months since you and Xavier started your new chapter together, but already, you can't envision life without him. Moving so far from your best friend is proving to be difficult, but things get a lot worse when Sylus...catches feelings?

♡ pt.1

‧₊˚ ┊xavier⤷fem!reader⤶sylus

‧₊˚ ┊sexual content, 18+, smut with some plot, angst, unprotected sex, oral;꒰f&m receiving꒱fingering, handjob, restraints, marking/claiming, overstim, non/dub somnophilia, polyamory, cuckold themes, "guide my hand. tell me where to touch her, xavier," type thing, rough & soft, mostly softie sylus, there's a little heat between the guys, reader is not mc from lads

‧₊˚ ┊25k wc

༝ domxavier/subsylus/subreader, but all switch a bit (give sub sylus a chance 😩)

༝ pet names used: sweetie, dove, little birdie/angel, baby,"toy", good girl

This is pt.2 to a request I really enjoyed doing. I started writing this immediately after pt.1, but it took forever. I had to find a way to justify hurting Xavier that didn't make me hate myself 😭 let it be known that some sparks start flying between the guys halfway through a certain scene 🙈 they were begging; I couldn't help it. Not edited. I don't want to look at it ever again 😵‍💫 Tags: @littlecrow-littledove @lilithdaintyrose @cordidy: the sylus and mai scene is at the end if you want to skip to it!

The scent of something burning rips you from your dreams, prompting a low, frustrated groan as you force yourself to sit up and peer around your room. Over the past six months, the lingering smell has become all too familiar. When moving in with Xavier, you had no clue that he was such a terrible cook. Which wouldn’t be an issue if he didn’t insist on making you breakfast every morning. The thoughtfulness of it warms your heart, but secretly, you wish you could ban him from the kitchen altogether.

Soft fairy lights guide your way down the hallway as you slip on a robe. “We need to set a new rule,” you mumble groggily upon locking eyes with Xavier’s wide, innocent gaze. He stands clutching a tray of burnt biscuits, frantically fanning the smoke hanging in the air.

“Please wait until I wake up to cook. You need supervision, and I’m exhausted from being woken up so early,” you pout. He gives you his best puppy-dog eyes, mimicking your displeased expression before tossing the charred lumps into the trash with an exaggerated “Fine.”

A teasing, sultry smile curls your lips as you draw close, cradling his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Xavier takes in your adorable, sleep-rumpled features with a smile as your touch grows more insistent. “I am pretty hungry though… and since you ruined breakfast, this will have to do,” you whisper, desire taking you hostage as your gaze traces his bare chest.

Fingers sneaking under the waistband of his sweatpants, you shoot him a mischievous grin. His pretty eyes darken as you drop to your knees before him, taking his boxers down with you. Xavier’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you kneeling, a quiet curse slipping out as you lift your shirt just enough for him to glimpse your breasts. Bunching your hair up, you guide his hand in a silent gesture. His fingers instantly tangle, tugging tight as your tongue flicks over the tip of his cock to taste him.

The suction of your lips around his head has him swollen and firm under your touch in seconds. Cupping your chin, his hand guides you as you take him in completely, moaning at his taste as he fills your throat. Taking him deep a few times and popping him out, you spit on his length, coating it languidly as you meet his gaze.

“I think it’s only fair that you feed me...” you murmur, wrapping his free hand around his shaft. With your mouth open wide and your tongue flat, you invite him in. Tightening his grip on your hair, his eyes fill with so much desire they make your body hum with delight. Adjusting your face to his liking, he fucks it without hesitation. Xavier knows your desire is to please him, and he’s more than willing to oblige.

With deep, precise thrusts, he aims to leave your pretty face ruined when he’s finished. At his climax, Xavier pushes his cock deep it brings a jolt of pain, releasing his warm, comforting release while he strokes your hair tenderly. Greedily swallowing every drop, a sated hum leaves you as tears stream down your cheeks, gagging and drooling around him.

Lifting you onto the counter, Xavier meets your blissful gaze, wasting no time before his fingers slip under your shorts. It feels so good when his finger slides through your slick folds that it pains you to pull away, trapping his hands in yours. Gently freeing himself from your grasp, he instinctively reaches for you again. Giving you a petulant look, he retorts, “But I’m hungry too…” before silencing you with a needy kiss.

Rejecting Xavier is incredibly challenging. With an undeniably addictive touch, his kicked-puppy expression only adds to the allure. Cupping your breast, his teeth tease a sensitive spot on your neck, eliciting soft whimpers from you as he tries to break your resolve. While he almost succeeds, you gather your composure and push him back gently. His pouty face brings a smile to your lips as you playfully poke his rosy cheek. “I’m already running late.”

“You know I’ll make it quick.” His voice, low and sensual, stirs your desire, making your thighs press together in an attempt to restrain your arousal. Yet, you counter, “Yeah, right. One orgasm from me turns you into a hungry beast who craves more. You’ll have me missing work altogether if you get a taste.”

Acknowledging that you’re right, he rolls his eyes, looking every bit like a disappointed child. But in moments, his expression softens as he cups your cheek, giving your nose a gentle nuzzle. “You owe me dinner later, angel,” he murmurs, smirking at your blushing cheeks before heading for the fridge.

As you rush and prepare for the day, you pause to embrace Xavier on your way out. Tucking a stray hair behind your ear, he offers a gentle smile and inquires, “What time do you finish work tonight? I’ll grab takeout before you get home. No cooking, I promise.”

A wave of guilt washes over you. You haven't told Xavier of your plans with Sylus yet. You’ve been dreading this moment—Sylus is a delicate topic lately, prompting you to avoid mentioning him altogether.

Letting an apology shine in your eyes, you meet Xavier’s gaze. “I forgot to mention that Sylus will be in town today... We’re meeting up for drinks. You’re more than welcome to join us,” you offer hesitantly.

A mix of emotions crosses his features as he backs away. Unease wars within Xavier as he questions, “He was just here. Why does he need to return so soon?”

“He has something to take care of nearby, and he thought it would be nice to see me while he’s in town,” you explain, deliberately omitting the part where Sylus mentioned it would be a wasted trip without seeing you.

He shoots you a cold glare that strikes like a physical blow. “I’m not really in the mood to go out. I picked up a book yesterday that I’m eager to start,” he responds, leaning in to give you a soft kiss. The way he avoids meeting your eyes makes your heart sink. “Stay safe. The offer for takeout still stands,” he mentions before heading towards the bedroom.

You shut your eyes, taking long, deep breaths in an attempt to quell your anxiety. This tension with Xavier is agonizing, especially since he’s always been your pillar of comfort and happiness. And knowing he has valid reasons to feel uneasy hurts you more than anything else.

Initially, when you moved here, Sylus would stop by a couple of times a month. But recently, his visits have become increasingly frequent. Last month alone, he made eight trips, causing Xavier to grow suspicious of his intentions. Sylus maintains that he’s in the area for business purposes, a fact that secretly brings you solace as you miss his presence. Having been a constant in your life for nine years, the distance feels unsettling.

Resolving to ask Sylus to reduce his visits, you hope it will alleviate some of Xavier’s concerns. Nevertheless, a sense of sorrow hangs over you like a shadow throughout the day, intensifying each time your friend crosses your mind.

A smirk dances on Sylus’s lips as he slides a bag across the table and settles into the booth. Suspicion washes over you, shooting a look of betrayal at the gift.

“Why do you insist on torturing me like this?” you exclaim, frustration creeping into your voice. You hate receiving gifts, a fact that Sylus is well aware of.

“Is it really torture, sweetie? You insist on using my phone to search for things you want, then act surprised when I buy them for you,” he replies, a teasing gleam in his eyes as he leans back.

With an exasperated sigh, you peek into the bag and spot a pair of boots you remember trying on during a shopping trip. “I never searched for these, Sylus! I only tried them on that day!” you protest, skepticism coloring your tone.

He casually shrugs, draping his arm over the booth while scanning the room with his piercing crimson gaze. “Fortunately for you, this bar doesn’t offer karaoke,” he quips, flashing a wicked grin.

“That’s exactly why I picked it,” you shoot back, grimacing in annoyance as he playfully tousles your hair.

His tone shifts to amusement as he warns, “Don’t underestimate me—I might just stand on this table and start a choir, sweetie. You’re tempting fate.”

As the drinks flow and the conversation continues, you find it increasingly difficult to leave. The night grows late, and although you should head home, a sense of concern gnaws at you when you notice Sylus gazing absently at a TV across the room.

Offering him a gentle smile, you move to his side of the booth. A fleeting expression flips across his features, disappearing before you can place it. His usual composed, slightly cocky demeanor slides in effortlessly to take its place.

“Ever heard of personal space, dove?” he teases, raising an eyebrow with a smirk as he looks at you. Unfazed, you roll your eyes. “Since when has that been an issue?”

For a brief moment, hesitation crosses his face before his grin widens. Slipping an arm around your shoulders, he eases back, sighing softly as he rests his head against yours.

Seeing Sylus so weary and worn out—a rare sight—causes worry to wrap around your heart. In an attempt to lift his spirits, you playfully tickle his side, but he intercepts your hand, shooting you a warning glare that silently says, “Behave.”

Smiling, you lean into him, closing your eyes to savor the comfortable silence enveloping you both. It takes you a few moments to realize that Sylus is still holding your hand, cradling it delicately where it rests on his thigh. Without a second thought, you intertwine your fingers with his, giving a gentle squeeze. Grip tightening briefly, his eyes snap open as his silver brows furrow in surprise.

He relaxes quickly, though, his lips curving into a small smile as his thumb lightly traces your skin. A strange warmth flutters through you at his gentle touch. Your eyes widen as they focus on his hand, noticing how it swallows yours whole. How can hands so large feel so gentle? Suddenly feeling inexplicably nervous, you clear your throat to distract yourself.

“Do you need to vent about anything? I can tell you're not doing well…” you start, worry seeping into your voice.

He remains silent for a long moment before murmuring, “I appreciate the offer, dove. But not this time.”

A fresh wave of apprehension rises as you resist the urge to pry. Sylus always opens up when he’s ready. “Okay,” you whisper, squeezing his hand reassuringly before pulling away. Your frantic heart slows, an odd sense of relief washing over you as the contact ends. Thinking of Xavier waiting for you, you suddenly feel very eager to get home. “I need to get going. It’s getting late,” you say with a smile.

Confusion fills you when Sylus releases his hold on your shoulder but doesn’t get up to leave with you. Instead, his eyes lock onto yours for a long moment before he replies, “I think I’ll stay for a while, sweetie. Be safe getting home.”

His demeanor suddenly turns distant as he shuts his eyes again in a silent dismissal. The fierce stinging sensation in your chest at what feels like a rejection surprises you. Irritation bubbles up as you grab your purse and silently leave the bar.

Xavier is still awake when you get home, lounging on the couch with a nearly finished book in his hands. Slipping onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, you draw him in for a lingering kiss. He greets you with a gentle smile before turning back to his reading, absentmindedly stroking your hair. Resting your head against his chest, you listen to his slow, steady heartbeat, feeling immediate relief as your body relaxes and the day's worries ease away.

You drift in and out of sleep as he finishes the last few chapters of his book, stirring as he sets it aside. Kicking out the footrest, he pulls you on top of him, enfolding you in his arms and nuzzling your neck with a relieved sigh. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting,” he murmurs, pressing delicate kisses to your skin.

You lean into his touch effortlessly. “It’s okay... I promise I understand.” Savoring his taste, your tongue explores his mouth languidly as your fingers trail under his shirt.

Body becoming pliant in your hands, Xavier silently grants you permission to do as you please. You straddle him, deepening the kiss as you grind down on his erection with a slow roll of your hips.

Tangling your fingers in his hair and gripping tightly, you elicit a strained gasp of pleasure. His pretty eyes flutter shut as his hands find your waist and guide your movements.

Each taste of his skin and sweat is amplified by the sweet sounds escaping him as your lips trace the contours of his neck. “Don’t I owe you dinner?” you whisper with a mischievous smile.

He hesitates briefly, his eyes flickering away before he murmurs, “What if I just lay here, and you use my body in any way you want.” Arousal courses through you, your cheeks flushing furiously at his words. The request is something new from him. Intercepting your hands as they wander to his pants, he gently commands, “Clothes off, angel.”

Blushing even deeper, you stand and slowly remove your dress, unhook your bra, and slip off your panties. Xavier’s throat bobs, awe shining in his voice as his gaze wanders your form. “You are so beautiful…” he murmurs.

Your heart clenches painfully at the deep adoration in his eyes. With a tender smile, you beam back at him.

Just as you’re about to straddle him again, you pause, eyeing his clothed body with a pout. His voice shimmers with need as he responds, “Don’t people dress their dolls up for different occasions? My owner will have to tell me how she wants me.” There’s a faint roughness to his tender tone, an undercurrent of raw emotion sending shivers down your spine.

Suddenly, you feel incredibly nervous about this shift in dynamic. But you resolve to give Xavier what he’s asking for—what he seems to need, judging by the plea in his eyes. Voice soft but firm, you instruct, “Then, for starters, I’d like my toy naked and in my bed.” He gives you a gentle smile and a lingering kiss before leaving the room.

Xavier typically prefers taking on a dominant role in bed, which suits your tastes perfectly. But you can’t deny the excitement bubbling at the thought of reversing roles. And if you were going to do this, you’re all in.

Arousal washes over you when you enter the bedroom and see his naked form. He’s already hard and ready for you, the sight making your breath catch as a string of precum trails from his cock to his boxers when he frees himself.

Heat sparks in Xavier’s eyes when he notices the ropes you’re carrying. He appears almost nervous as you softly instruct him, “Rest back against the headboard for me.” Tying his arms and legs to each end of the bed, you silently restrain him. Once you’re confident he won’t free himself, you straddle him again and grab the scarf.

Eyes widening in surprise before everything goes dark, his body starts to tremble as you lean in and press your tongue into his eager mouth. Gentle caresses slowly ignite with intensity as you bite and suck at his lips until they’re slick and puffy.

He’s simply perfect. Lips parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his body quivering at even the lightest of your touches. Cupping his cheeks, you kiss from his forehead down to his nose. A strained breath escapes him as his hips subtly grind into the air.

His voice carries an undeniable plea as he murmurs, “Please… I need to hear your voice.”

The control you hold over him fills you with giddiness as a smile lights up your face. Your voice is teasing and sensual as you reply, “Hmm… I’ll talk to you. As long as you behave like my good, sweet boy.”

Brushing your thumb over his perked nipple, you elicit a low, decadent sound in response. Your breath catches as his cock twitches beneath you in reaction to your words.

“I’ll be so good for you, angel, I promise,” he breathes.

“My poor baby,” you murmur, gathering some of his pre-cum on your fingertips before licking them clean with a pleased hum. His erection looks painfully hard.

“That sure looks like it hurts,” you muse with feigned concern. Your touch brushes him lightly again as you ask, “Is it uncomfortable, Xai?”

Wiggling in the restraints, his hips grind up in a desperate attempt to seek friction as he nods frantically. Stroking him slowly, you spread his essence around until he’s giving you sweet little moans. When he’s close to finishing, you let his length plop onto his stomach, earning a pained groan in return.

“Want to mark your body this time…” you murmur. Xavier nearly whines as you work a bruise on his skin with deep pulls of your mouth. Arousal floods you as you pull back to admire your work with a faint smile.

You can understand now why putting marks on you is such a potent aphrodisiac for Xavier. Watching the bruise darken, you feel as if you might burn alive. His form quivers as you place your palm over the spot, with only one word running through your mind—mine.

Moving over his chest slowly, you create a few more marks before warming his nipple with your breath as you pull it into your mouth. A low groan escapes as his head tilts back with a low, broken curse. Grinning at his needy sounds, you tease him with flicks of your tongue. His strangled voice tugs at your heart. “Do—do you like using me like this?” Hope colors his voice, a blush spreading beneath the blindfold.

“I love it... I love you,” you admit softly, your cheeks reflecting his rosy hue.

He groans, pleading, “Kiss me—even just once…”

To tease him, you tighten his restraints a bit, definitely not expecting him to mumble “tighter.”

Worry stirs within you as you comply, the ropes digging into his skin—enough to surely leave marks. He assures you that he's okay, though, sinking into the bed and murmuring, “Perfect.”

Sliding down his body, your fingertips trail over his abs as you settle between his legs. Pressing kisses just above his cock, your tongue flicks out to taste him.

His hips grind up with a frustrated groan when he doesn’t feel the warmth of your mouth envelop him after the teasing touch. “And you call me a slut…” you tease, clicking your tongue in mock disapproval.

Sucking one of his balls into your mouth, you release it with a wet pop and a pleased hum. The restraints tighten as he curses and tugs on them in exasperation before trying to calm himself. Head tilting back, he takes deep breaths, biting his bottom lip sharp enough to draw blood. His amusement shines through as he asks, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Humming in confirmation, your words are a teasing melody as you taunt, “Tell me how much you like being my pretty little fuck toy, Xavier. Need to hear you say it…”

Struggling to speak, his cock pulsing under the press of your lips, he manages, “I—fuck, baby. You know I do. Now please suck my cock… Just—just for a minute, angel?” he pleads.

Giggling, you murmur, “Okayy… but only for a minute.” Languidly sucking around the edges, you feel him grow even firmer beneath your teasing tongue. Sounds of raw desire slip from you both, twisting your core into knots as you take him deep into your throat.

Burying himself to the hilt with a pointed thrust, you allow him this moment, holding still as he fucks your face with slow, deliberate strokes. Then, you pop him out of your mouth with a teasing smile, caressing his length as you scold, “Dolls don’t move on their own, Xavier. They stay still and do as they’re told.”

His lips part in disbelief before a smile stretches across his face. Relaxing against the headboard, his voice is rough as he replies, “Yes, ma’am.”

Admiring the sheer pleasure you’re bringing him, nearly high on his ecstasy alone, you whisper, “Good boy,” before taking him into your mouth again. Desperate to fulfill his desires, you put your heart into every stroke and flick of your tongue until he’s whining beneath you.

Kissing along his shaft, you whisper tender praises along his skin, his pretty sounds growing needier. As he nears climax, you draw back, eliciting a frustrated growl. Giggling, you guide his cock through your wet folds as you straddle his hips. A pained sound escapes him as his body trembles with restraint.

Guiding his chin, you study his face and the blush on his cheeks. “Xavier?” He tilts his head a little, his lips forming a gentle smile. Kissing him delicately, you murmur, “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Lost in the sensation of grinding against him, his warmth sliding through your slippery folds, you both cling to each other tightly, savoring the intimacy.

“Don’t cum yet, Xavier. Just me,” you scold playfully. With a firm nod and a strained breath, his head knocks against the headboard.

Smiling against his lips, your tongue seeking his, you wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him close.

Your hips move faster as you chase release, your breath gentle against his ear. “You break me apart without even touching me…” Nuzzling into his neck with a needy moan as your orgasm approaches, your core tightens almost painfully. “You’re gonna make me cum so hard…” Just before you do, you impale yourself fully on him, clenching and pulsating around him in waves. A strangled, needy sound escapes you both as you eagerly bounce on his cock.

“Need to see you,” you whisper as you remove the blindfold, gazing into his eyes and kissing him again. Brows knitting together, he searches your face. The desire and love etched into your features push him dangerously closer to what he's been instructed not to do.

Xavier needed this so badly—he needed to feel your desire for him, even if he couldn’t fully grasp why. Desperately craving to see if using him for your pleasure would drive you as wild as it does him. Relief washes over him as he observes your blissful expression before your lips melt against his neck as you quietly chant his name against his skin like a prayer.

Gently gripping his throat, you kiss him, whispering, “I…I take it back… Please fill me up.” Xavier groans, nibbling and tugging at your lip, urging you to meet his gaze. Watching every flicker of ecstasy that graces his face as he releases himself, he struggles to keep his eyes on yours until they finally shut as his head falls back, his reverence for you escaping in a murmur. You keep riding him until he’s squirming in his restraints, begging you for a break.

Sliding him out of you with a grin, you playfully nuzzle his face. “Is my sweet boy feeling sensitive?” you pout, earning a raised brow and an amused grin from him. “You’re the literal Overstim King, babe. You can handle it,” you tease, rolling your eyes as you begin untying his restraints.

The moment he’s free, Xavier cradles you from behind and slides back inside you. Pulling you close and burying himself deep, he relaxes against you with a soft, happy sigh. Adjusting your pillow as you pull up the covers, you nestle against him as his cock softens inside you, finding instant relaxation in his embrace.

As sleep begins to take you, you remember that Xavier is leaving for a mission the next day. “Do you know when you’ll be back from the trip?”

“Mhm. Shouldn’t be more than two days. I have to leave early... probably before you wake up,” he replies in a drowsy murmur.

The thought makes you unbearably sad. Two days seems short, but you haven't been apart from Xavier for longer than a day since moving in together. “Fine. But promise to text me every chance you get,” you grumble. Sealing the pact with your pinkies, he chuckles softly before drifting into a peaceful slumber, pulling you along with him.

Waking late in the morning, you take a deep breath of air free from the scent of burnt biscuits, and it hits you that there might be one silver lining to Xavier spending a few days away. Seizing the moment, you decide to clean while you have the place to yourself. At first, you’re singing and dancing around as you work, your mood high as you move through the house. But it isn’t long before nagging thoughts drown out the music and sour your good mood. Sylus was really upset last night… You sensed it but chose not to push him; that approach has never been effective in the past. The sadness etched in his features, and the slump of his shoulders were unlike him, and each step makes the memory of his troubled face pierce your heart a little deeper.

Spotting a vase of flowers left by Xavier, you open a note that reads, “I miss you already, beautiful,” alongside a doodle of a smiling star. A giddy feeling washes over you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as flashes of last night consume your thoughts. Was Xavier able to hide the marks the ropes left on his wrists? Will he pleasure himself to the memory while he’s gone?

Reluctantly, you gather yourself before you can spiral out of control, refocusing on the task at hand. You had said nothing to Sylus about cutting back on his visits last night… You couldn’t—not when he showed up looking so worn down. The constant anxiety this discourse is bringing is becoming downright exhausting. Perhaps some time away from both of them will help you sort through your increasingly complicated feelings.

The way your heart faltered last night when you entwined your fingers with Sylus’s... It was a simple gesture, no different from his arm around your shoulders, yet it carried an intimacy that none of your previous touches have. And the way his thumb brushed your skin as he turned to you with those striking eyes…

Striking? … This is Sylus you’re talking about… You’ve always thought his eyes were pretty, sure, but striking? You quickly shut down that line of thought and the idea that there might be a twinge of attraction towards your best friend. Deciding to ditch the cleaning for now, you opt for a jog around the block to clear your head.

It’s futile, the exercise helps push the uncomfortable thoughts aside only temporarily. Upon returning home, you find the source of your unease sitting on your sofa, reassembling a handgun. Your heart thumps at seeing him, but you narrow your eyes and ask, for what feels like the millionth time, “How did you get in here, Sylus?”

He meets your irritated gaze with a raised brow and a bored look. “You already know the answer to that, dove. Maybe you should start asking why I’m here instead.” His expression reveals nothing about how he’s feeling today, but he looks at you as softly as he always does.

Sitting beside him, you earn a confused glance as your knee brushes against his thigh, and you pull away to create more space between you. It so feels strange to shy away from his touch. His stare is thoughtful as he searches your face before ultimately looking away.

He cleans the gun with familiar, meticulous movements. Stretching out long on the sofa, you prop your head on a cushion to watch him. The comforting sound of the cloth brushing over metal and Sylus’s presence quickly brings you a sense of serenity. But the worry still lingers…

“Sy? Why are you here?” you ask gently.

He glances your way, and for a moment, you expect him to dismiss your concern. Instead, he averts his gaze and replies, “Because I wanted to see you.”

Instinctively moving closer again, you sigh as you lean on his shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you stopped by, then.”

He chuckles softly, setting the weapon aside and resting his head against yours. Despite how much you detest bringing her up, you force yourself to ask, “How is Mai?”

Sylus stiffens beside you. He’s silent for so long that you wonder if he heard you, but eventually, he responds, “Your guess is as good as mine, dove.”

Confusion washes over you as you pull back to meet his gaze. “Did something happen?”

The corners of his lips curl slightly, but the expression is humorless. His eyes remain unreadable as he responds, “If you consider us breaking up as ‘something,’ then yes, sweetie. Something happened.” The wall he’s trying to build between you is almost visible as he tries to reinforce it.

Taking his chin in a firm hold, you give him an annoyed look that mirrors his own. “Why are you suddenly guarding yourself against me? Have I done something wrong?” You try to mask the hurt in your voice, but it’s too late; your eyes brim with tears.

Grimacing when he sees one fall, his hand cups your cheek as his thumb gently brushes it away. He lingers in the moment, tracing your skin as he searches for the right words to say.

Why does his touch feel so different now? Why do you suddenly ache to lean into it, to have more of it? Sylus pulls his hand back but keeps his gaze locked on yours. “I’ve spoken to you of the other two men who are tangled in her web,” he starts, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear before continuing.

His long fingers have splayed over your thigh before, but they’ve never made your heart race like this. Have his hands always been this beautiful? It takes everything in you to remain calm while he speaks. Though his tone is bored, genuine emotion swirls behind his eyes, his grip on you tightening slightly.

“After Xavier found a way to escape her hold, Mai decided she needed to tighten her grip on the rest of us.” He sighs, leaning his head back and giving you a tender smile when he sees the horror and anger in your eyes.

“Sylus…” You begin, but he cuts you off, his voice soft. “You know me, dove—while her choosing to fuck them was painful, it wasn’t the issue.”

Suddenly, he grabs your chin, drawing your face close to his. “How could you not tell me that Mai purposely put you in danger that day?” His voice trembles with fierce anger and hurt, flashing across his features.

Instinctively, you jerk back, releasing a surprised squeak when his grip tightens, pulling you back in.

Looking down at your lap, shame laces your words as you admit, “You love her so much, Sy… I just— I didn’t want to hurt you...”

Genuine exasperation takes over as he guides your face back to his, murmuring, “Didn’t want to hurt me? But you let me—” He closes his eyes, struggling to steady himself. “How do you think I felt when I found out what she did, having had my cock filling her just hours before? Did you think I would be okay knowing I made love to her for months after she tried to have you killed?”

His voice is a low, furious growl. Gently cradling your face, he searches your eyes, his expression softening when he sees the confusion and fear.

Taken aback by the intense emotion radiating from him, you can barely get your words out as you whisper, “I’m so sorry, Sylus.”

While you knew Sylus would be pissed if he ever found out what Mai did, you never expected a reaction like this. And you certainly hadn’t thought he would end their relationship over it. His head rests against yours as he releases a deep sigh. “I understand why you didn’t tell me, dove. And while I appreciate your concern—” anger swirls in his eyes as he continues, “Don’t ever do something like this to me again.”

Your eyes widen at the underlying warning in his tone. Nodding softly, you search his face, your eyes flickering rapidly over his features in an attempt to guess his next move. When his eyes drift to your lips, lingering for a moment too long, you panic, thinking he will kiss you.

But instead, he lays down on the sofa, pulling you down with him.

As his large body envelopes you from behind, you tense with thoughts of Xavier filling your mind. You kissed him in this very spot just last night. Guilt and fear consume you at the thought of him finding you and Sylus like this. Because the way Sylus is holding you is nothing like his typical friendly touches. This is intimate, and his hold on you is almost possessive.

Sensing your hesitation, Sylus rubs soothing circles on your stomach, the delicate touch sending shivers up your spine. Like honeyed whiskey, his voice wraps around your body and binds it in place. “Relax, sweetie. Your precious hunter isn’t due home for another day.” You immensely regret sharing that information. Your cheeks heat, and your heart pounds, pulling a surprised gasp from you as his breath tickles your ear.

“Consider it your penance for hurting me,” he murmurs, pulling you closer as he settles against you. You want to ask him why he’s acting this way, but the words won’t come. After a while, your body relaxes in his familiar embrace, and you wake hours later to find it dark outside. Drowsiness fades instantly when you feel Sylus’s hand on your bare skin.

At some point, his hand found its way under your shirt, resting just below your breast. Shock bolts you off the couch, propelling you a safe distance away. Disbelief floods your features when you see Sylus wide awake, an amused grin spreading across his face as he watches you panic.

“What has you so flustered, dove? I touch you all the time, do I not?”

Your lips part in surprise as you search his mirthful gaze. “You know damn well that was different, Sylus!”

He stands, shrugging and not bothering to respond. You nearly jump out of your skin when he reaches over to brush your hair back. Pulling back completely when his fingers skim your neck, anger swells up at the boundaries he’s so boldly crossing.

Narrowing your eyes, you snap, “Don’t touch me like that again, Sy, or you’ll lose the right to touch me at all.”

He looks genuinely taken aback before donning his mask, effortlessly taking on his usual calm, cocky demeanor. Gathering his jacket and keys, he grins and asks, “Are we still having dinner tomorrow, or is that not allowed anymore?”

Having had it with his attitude, you shoot him a cold look. “I think I’ll pass.”

He chuckles and nods, tossing a casual “See you later, then, sweetie” over his shoulder on his way out.

Growling and throwing a pillow at the front door as hard as possible, you imagine it’s Sylus’s face. The anger subsides much too quickly, and you collapse to the floor, cradling your head as guilt and pain overwhelm you.

“I’m here because I wanted to see you.”

“Didn’t want to hurt me? But you let me—”

Your phone pings on the coffee table like a gunshot in the stillness of your home. A picture of Xavier lights up the screen. Your heart aches a million times more as his pouty face and blue eyes pierce into you.

Xavier: Hot pot when I get home?

Xavier: All they’ve fed me R peanut butter sandwiches…

Xavier: I let them know they need to adjust their meal plan. How R we supposed to fight Wanderers on nothing but fumes?

Xavier: Please send meat

Xavier: Can’t wait to see you, angel <3

Unable to think of a single thing to say, you set the phone back on the table, retreating to the safety of your bed. Breathing in Xavier’s scent as you hug his pillow, tears form in your eyes as you shut them tight and imagine he’s holding you. Clinging to his presence in your mind, you let it wrap you in its safe embrace as you drift off to sleep.

Whether it’s due to physical exhaustion, mental anguish, or both, you sleep for eleven hours straight. To be honest, you could go for eleven more. Weighed down by thoughts and emotions, your body aches as if you’re sick. But it feels like the perfect night for wine and a movie. The horror flick plays in the background as you text Xavier back.

Xavier: R U sure ur not sick? U should try to get some more rest

Xavier: I’ll be home in the morning to take care of you

You: Tell them I’m deathly ill & need you tonight :’ (

Xavier: Will tell them I'm starving to death and have to go home

Xavier: I got U a Wanderer plushie. It's ugly, but U will like it

Xavier: Wear 1 of my sweaters until I can hold you <3

You: Already in 1 ; )

Xavier: …omw home they’ll be fine without me

A giddy grin lights your face as you start thinking about Xavier’s hands traveling under said sweater and—

A knock at the front door interrupts your growing fantasy, instantly cloaking you in unease.

Barefoot, you pad down the hall, wondering whether or not you want to open it, as there’s only one person it could be.

Sylus’s disheveled appearance pulls a startled gasp from you. His hair is messy from the grip of his hands—a telltale sign of his anxiety. Rosy cheeks and ears, his red eyes burn brightly as they pierce through your very being. The smell of whiskey is potent, but you’d know he’s drunk even without it. The unfamiliar heat brewing in his eyes as his gaze traces your curves shakes you to your core.

Sadness still clings to him like a dark cloud, prompting you to keep your voice gentle as you ask, “What are you doing here?”

You’ve never seen Sylus falter before, but he does as he searches your face. “I just—” he shakes his head, trailing off hesitantly.

Putting some distance between the two of you might be best, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away when he’s in such obvious pain. His face lifts in surprise as you give him a soft smile, taking his hand and guiding him inside.

Leading him to the kitchen, you force him to drink two tall glasses of water before sitting on the counter and studying him closely. As he observes you back, the moment feels reminiscent of the staring contests the two of you often hold. Both of you smile softly as if thinking of the same memory. Sylus is much more open and honest when he drinks this much... This may be an opportune time to get some answers.

“What’s going on with you lately? And why are you standing way over there?” you ask, noticing he still stands at the kitchen’s entryway, looking almost nervous.

Irritation flashes on his features as he replies, “I’m no longer allowed to touch you. I wasn’t sure if I have a proximity limit now, too.”

Disbelief clouds your voice as you snap, “Don’t play dumb, Sylus. You know damn well that having your hand that close to my breast was not one of your typical touches!”

Sylus tilts his head, observing you intently. His soft voice takes your breath away as he says, “I’m beginning to see that the way I touch you has never been mere friendliness.”

Somewhere between a scoff and a squeak, you choke out, “What? Sylus! You don’t mean that!” Sylus chuckles and gives you a sad smile when you make the words sound like an indisputable fact.

He comes closer, stopping just shy of your knees. Propping his hand on the counter beside you, he carefully adheres to your no-touching rule. When his eyes meet yours, they hold a desperate plea. “I need permission to touch you one last time, dove.”

Your heart cracks at “one last time.”

“Why?” you barely manage to whisper.

“I need to show you something,” he murmurs.

Confusion and unease spike at his words, but without much thought, you find yourself nodding in silent permission. The light returning to his eyes melts your heart in ways it shouldn’t.

His fingers brush your cheek and travel down your neck just like yesterday. Though he’s barely touching you, his warmth feels searing, and it’s taking every bit of your self-control to remain still.

His touch travels your arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake as you manage to utter a strangled, “W–why are you…”

His fingers brush down your arm and neck again as he asks, “How many times have I touched you like this, sweetie?”

Your throat bobs nervously as your wide eyes watch his hand travel across your body. “Um… a lot, I guess…” you admit quietly.

He hums, nodding in agreement as he traces shapes on your stomach. “And here?” You give him a clipped nod, releasing a huff of breath as you shut your eyes tight and try to convince yourself that you hate what's happening.

Slipping under your sweater, the traces a circle on your bare skin, murmuring into your ear, “Do you remember that trip to the mountains? We spent the night drinking in the pool and watching the stars.”

Sylus closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours. Slowly, his hand splays over your stomach, unsettlingly close to the spot that irked you yesterday. “I held you in my lap that night, soaking up your warmth just like this...”

His hands wrap around your thighs next as he spreads them and steps closer. Tilting your chin, he locks eyes with you, the blatant desire etched into his features stealing your breath away.

“Now tell me, do any of these touches feel simply companionable to you?” Sylus asks.

Definitely not. Not this time, anyway. But, unwilling to accept whatever is happening, you nod and do your best to lie. “They do to me,” you say, your voice much firmer than you’d expected. Maybe he’ll actually believe it.

He nods softly, inching his hands a little further up your thighs. “I thought so once, too. But—” He tilts his head, amusement playing on his features as he murmurs, “Think about it. How many friends do you know that behave as we do, sweetie?”

Fear courses through you as you whisper, “Why are you doing this?” You wish he’d stop talking and leave your house because he’s turning your entire life upside down.

His hands leave your thighs to cradle your face. “I don’t let people get this close to me. You know me better than anyone. I constantly seek your touch, your presence. I run to you without a second thought when I'm upset. Even with Mai, I found myself aching for something as simple as karaoke with you…” You can’t breathe as his agonized gaze meets yours, and he says, “I don’t know how I missed it, dove. I’m sorry.”

The compulsion to comfort him grows too powerful, and you draw him in for a hug, gasping in surprise when his arms wrap tightly around your waist, and he rests his head against your shoulder.

As you hold him, stroking his hair and rubbing soothing circles on his back, you realize that Sylus might be right—maybe your relationship has always been more than just companionship.

Gently, you push him away a bit, forcing yourself to say the words that feel like a death sentence, “I won’t do this to Xavier. And… I just don’t feel that way about you, Sylus. I’m sorry.” The words are a whisper you can barely get out.

He grips your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him as frustration flashes on his face.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he guides your head back as his other hand tenderly cups your cheek. The kiss is nothing more than a soft press of your lips—delicate and painfully intimate.

When you pull back to look at him, his blissful expression brings tears to your eyes. The effort it takes not to kiss him again makes your body tremble and your fists ball up tightly.

Sylus gives you a knowing, concerned look when he realizes you’ve reached your limit on how much you can handle. Kissing your forehead, he backs away to give you some space.

He loathes himself for the tears tracing down your cheeks and for the hurt and confusion that have lingered around you since he began to express his feelings. But he needs you to know the truth. He can only pray that it doesn’t cost him everything you’ve built together.

His voice is gentle and reassuring as he promises, “No matter what happens, I'll never leave you. Remember that.”

He reaches out to brush your cheek back before pulling away again. “Just do me one more favor. After I leave, replay every trace of my touch on your body. Close your eyes and think of how my lips feel against yours.” His voice is desperate as he finishes, “Tell me then that you truly feel nothing for me, sweetie, and I will find a way past this.”

When the front door shuts softly behind him, the emotions you’ve been holding back rush to the surface, and panic slams into you with such force that you can’t see past it. It’s in everything you are, swirling like a storm as you choke on your breath, desperately trying and failing to get air into your lungs as your skin tingles almost painfully.

Nausea sends you running to the bathroom as your body attempts to expel your overwhelming emotions.

You don’t need to do as Sylus asked—you can remember every touch in vivid detail without trying. And though you don’t want to admit it, you are excruciatingly aware of just how good it felt.

Finding your way back to your safe place, you snuggle under the covers, holding Xavier’s pillow close again and taking deep breaths of his scent to quell your anxiety.

But this time, the comfort of feeling closer to him twists into overwhelming guilt. You force yourself to stay there, feeling terrified, ashamed, and emotionally spent, considering it a penance for hurting the two people you care the most for in this world.

Xavier arrives home the next day to find you curled up in the same spot, hugging his pillow with tears streaming down your face. You haven’t slept or moved at all.

Concern washes over him at your appearance; exhausted, worn down, and sadder than he’s ever seen you. Fear clouds your features as Xavier sits beside you on the bed. Pulling away when you cry even harder at his touch, he murmurs, “What’s wrong?”

You look down, balling the comforter around you up in your fists. You can’t meet his eyes as you say, “Sy… Sylus left Mai…”

Xavier’s stomach drops. He knows what comes next. Honestly, he's been expecting this moment for some time now. Sylus may have thought his feelings for you were platonic, but when he began to miss you so much that he couldn’t stay away for more than a week, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Mai’s face flashes in Xavier's mind as terror overwhelms him.

Sylus took Mai from Xavier. Why does he have to take you too?

“What happened?” Xavier repeats. It’s all he can seem to say. He can barely speak, barely breathe.

His sudden, cold, distant tone makes you flinch. “He… he kissed me,” you admit quietly.

He simply nods in response, casting his gaze away as he asks, “Did you enjoy it?”

“I don’t know.” Shame hits you full force as Xavier gives a quiet, mocking scoff and hangs his head for a moment before standing. You watch helplessly as he packs a small bag, grabs his keys, and finally looks at you. You wish he hadn’t. Genuine anger and fierce hurt lurk in his features. It hurts more than anything else has. “I won’t be back. I’m not doing this. Not again.” And then, just like that, he’s gone. You hear the front door close behind him, and the rest of your world shatters apart.

Strangled, agonized screams consume you as anger adds itself to your turmoil. The vase of forget-me-knots shatters on the floor, the blue blossoms making you unreasonably pissed. Is Xavier seriously going to leave without at least letting you explain yourself?

How can you feel so guilty yet like you’ve done nothing wrong? Why did Sylus have to tell you about his feelings? You wish he would have just kept them to himself. Most frustrating of all, you want nothing more right now than your friend’s comfort.

Sylus picks up on the first ring, and his gentle voice makes you burst into tears again.”Deep breaths, sweetie. I’m on my way.” He was already on his way out the door when he heard your ringtone. A feeling of unease had lingered in him all morning, almost as if he sensed that you weren’t okay.

He finds you curled up on the wet floor, flowers and glass scattered all around you. Your broken gaze meets his as you whisper, “Please, Sylus… I—I can’t be here right now.”

Setting you on the edge of the bed, he moves around the room, packing up some of your belongings. After hooking the bag over his shoulder, he wraps you in his arms, tucking your head against his chest. You watch yours and Xavier’s front door close behind you, the click of the lock feeling so final that it makes the reality of the situation sink in.

You’ll never wake up to the smell of burnt biscuits again. You’ll never again feel the most tender love you’ve ever experienced—the most precious thing in the world to you, gone in the blink of an eye. Xavier left you so easily that you can’t help but wonder if you meant that much to him after all.

Sylus purchased a house nearby shortly after breaking things off with Mai. He kept his place in the N109 Zone for business, but it no longer feels like home without you. Telling you this makes him incredibly nervous, but his worries are unfounded. When he sets you down on his sofa, you take a teary-eyed look around the room before turning to him and whispering, “When, Sy?”

He clears his throat and rakes his hand through his hair. “A few months after you left,” he admits quietly.

You give him a gentle smile, tenderness playing on your features. “Do you think my best friend could hold me for a while?

In moments, he has you wrapped in his arms, carrying you into the bedroom and setting you gently on the bed.

“Sylus…” you start, as a fresh wave of anxiety flows through you at being in his room.

He smirks when he sees an adorable blush spread across your cheeks. Lifting your chin to meet his gaze, his voice is firm as he promises, “I only want to hold you.”

Relief fills you as you nod, moving over to give him room. Sylus is ripped in two at your pained whisper, “He’s gone...” Squeezing you tighter, he kisses your hair, murmuring, “I’m sorry, dove… This was never what I wanted.”

While the way he holds you feels intimate, Sylus doesn’t attempt to cross any boundaries in the slightest.

You curl up at his side, laying your head against his chest. The only touch he places on you is the entwining of your fingers, resting just above his heart.

Days turn into weeks as Sylus watches you retreat so far into yourself that he worries you may never return. He persuaded you to stay with him for the time being—he can’t bear the thought of leaving you alone like this.

When you’re not working or sleeping, he often finds you staring at the wall or television with a distant look in your eyes. He often has to coerce you into eating or caring for yourself. You’ve begun to shy away from his touch, rarely even wanting a hug for comfort since that first night. Xavier haunts your mind relentlessly, and it's clear to Sylus that his absence will likely linger with you forever.

Today, however, saw some progress. Getting up to shower and get dressed sapped most of your energy, but it made you feel a bit more human. Sylus even convinced you to watch the new season of your favorite cooking show, and after a few glasses of wine, you began to open up.

When you return from getting another bottle, you sit beside him, so close that your shoulder brushes his. An amused smirk lights his features when he sees your wide eyes realize what you’ve done. You blush fiercely and adjust slightly, but you don’t move away.

Instantly, a weight lifts from Sylus’s shoulders. He was genuinely worried that you might never forgive him. But then tears form in your eyes when the TV shows a clip of a couple caught in a passionate embrace. He chose the show because it held no romance; ads weren’t something he considered.

Pulling your knees close, you curl into yourself as the pain hits you anew. Sylus kneels before you, resting his hands on your knees and murmuring, “I can’t take the pain away, but I might be able to make it a little better...”

You search his eyes for so long he almost takes it as a no. But just as he’s about to pull away, you whisper, “Okay.” Picking you up and sitting down, he cradles you in his lap, holding you and stroking your hair as he hums one of your favorite songs.

You let him continue for a few minutes, but eventually, you pull back and, narrowing your eyes, accuse, “That is so not helping, Sylus.”

Chuckling and cupping your chin, he traces your bottom lip with his thumb. Pressing down on the plump skin, he says, “There is another way…” His lips brush over your cheeks before trailing to your lips. He kisses you softly, then pulls away, gauging your reaction.

Your eyes don’t leave his lips even for a moment as you whisper, “Again.”

This kiss is deeper, but Sylus pulls back much too soon. “Better?” he asks, hoping for a yes. He can’t bear the thought of stopping.

“A little…” you mumble, your body tingling with pleasure.

He smiles softly, tilting your head to kiss along your jawline and neck. Your eyes drift closed as your body melts against him.

He nuzzles your nose before capturing your mouth again, his tongue exploring slowly and deliberately, memorizing every inch. So this is what it's like to really kiss Sylus… The one before was nothing compared to this. You draw him closer, groaning softly at the taste of him.

He’s like the most potent drug, one that promises to be hell to let go of. He wraps around you and consumes your very being, nearly devouring you whole.

You adjust and straddle his waist, pulling him flush against you as you kiss his cheeks. His eyes flutter shut, accepting the gentle press of your mouth. When you suck on his ridiculously adorable top lip, you realize how badly you’ve wanted to do it all along.

His crimson eyes alight with happiness, and his tender smile and joyful laugh make you wish you had been doing this all along. But when his hand travels under your shirt to cup your breast, Xavier’s face flashes in your mind like a physical blow. Jumping off Sylus’s lap with a horrified gasp, your hand clamps tightly over your mouth.

He doesn’t look upset, only concerned, giving you a gentle, knowing smile. Suddenly, you long for a place you thought you’d never want to see again.

“Will you take me home, please?” you ask quietly.

Sylus walks over, gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead, and murmurs, “I’ll grab my keys.” The fact that he genuinely doesn’t seem upset with you is the only thing that holds you together.

A comfortable silence fills the car ride to your and Xavier’s house. Sylus’s eyes hold a limitless tenderness when he drops you off and promises, “I’ll stop by to check on you tomorrow, sweetie. Call me if you need anything at all.”

The dark space feels like a bad omen. What was once the most comforting place in the world is now filled with an unsettling melancholy that breaks your heart all over again. You leave all the lights off; you can’t bear seeing Xavier’s things that he never returned for. The rarely used recliner, nearly free of Xavier’s scent, is the only place of solace left here. You curl up with a blanket and pray that sleep brings you at least a little peace.

Xavier may have left your home, but he never truly left you. Sylus finds him at a nearby hotel, and when Xavier opens the door, Sylus barely recognizes him. Typically, Xavier carries himself tall with quiet confidence, but that’s absent now. He looks as if he hasn’t slept since last seeing you, and his wrinkled clothes and messy hair suggest he’s been taking care of himself as well as you have.

His eyes are emotionless as they meet Sylus’s, standing there, assessing him coldly, before moving to shut the door in his face. Sylus jams it with his boot and growls, “We need to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Xavier asks in a bored tone. “You’ve got what you wanted. You always do.” He turns and retreats into the room, looking like he couldn’t care less whether Sylus follows or not.

As Xavier sits down and pours a glass of whiskey, Sylus watches him with genuine sympathy. He can only imagine what Xavier’s going through; the thought of losing you is more than unbearable.

Xavier leans back, draping his arm over the back of the sofa and meeting Sylus’s eyes. His hardened demeanor falters as he asks, “How is she doing?”

“She barely eats, barely speaks. It’s difficult to even get her out of bed,” Sylus answers honestly.

Xavier visibly winces and gulps down his drink. Sylus eyes him and asks, “How long has that been a problem?”

Xavier gives him a distant look, shrugging and changing the subject as he says, “I’m sure her pain is a little more bearable when you join her in that bed.”

Sylus laughs, but it holds no amusement. “She won’t let me touch her, Xavier. And she has her own room, with a bed I’ve never laid in.” Sylus shakes his head in frustration at the surprise on Xavier’s face.

“She’ll never entertain the notion of being with me if it costs her you,” Sylus says, resigned to that fact long ago. He'd meant it when he said this was never how he wanted things to go.

He’s been giving Xavier time to come to his senses, but judging by how Xavier is drinking his problems away, it seems unlikely that will happen anytime soon.

Xavier downs his drink and reaches to pour another, but Sylus intercepts the bottle and tucks it away. Xavier shoots him a sharp glare, his calm demeanor cracking, “Why the hell are you here?”

Meeting his gaze, Sylus replies, “There’s a way for everyone to come out happy in this, you know.”

Xavier says nothing, simply crossing his arms and sitting back, waiting for Sylus to continue.

Sylus admits, “I told Mai once that I was open to sharing if that’s what she wanted. She harbored feelings for you, Zayne, and Rafayel, and for a long time, it caused her immense pain. She decided not to pursue that route. But you seem to think I kept her from you when that was never the case.”

Xavier’s eyes widen in surprise and anger when he realizes what Sylus is suggesting. “Share? You’ve got to be kidding me. Get the fuck out, Sylus,” he hisses. He stands and heads for the bedroom, but Sylus grabs his arm.

“She won’t live without you. And I won’t live without her. Even if I’m destined to only share friendship with her, I won’t leave her side. So shouldn’t we at least try, for her sake, to make this work?” Sylus asks earnestly. Feeling his frustration rise, he pauses, breathing deeply to collect himself before continuing, “Cast your pride aside for one moment, Xavier, and consider the pleasure we could give her,” he murmurs.

Xavier shakes his head in disbelief, his eyebrows knitting together as he casts his eyes away.

Sylus sighs in exasperation and steps back. “Look. I’m not attempting to anger you by suggesting this, but watch me touch her for the first time. Watch how good it makes her feel. If your cock isn’t hard within minutes from her sweet sounds, then you’re free to walk out the door.” Sylus cocks his head and smirks, throwing in a petty dig to lure Xavier in. “Let’s make a wager on whether or not you can handle it, hunter. What do you say?”

Xavier looks at him like he’s absolutely lost it. But he sighs in resignation, nodding in reluctant acceptance, mainly agreeing to prove to Sylus how wrong he is so Xavier can put this behind him for good. Reinforcing the wall around himself, he replies emotionlessly, “Whatever. But the liquor comes too.”

Sylus steps back to let Xavier enter the house first. Pain surges through him as he walks through the threshold, a place he had hoped never to see again. Despite the darkness, he can make out your form curled up on the recliner. Aching to wrap you in his arms, he forces himself to turn away from your silhouette, heading to the kitchen for a glass.

Attempting to block out his emotions, he turns to Sylus and asks, “Where is the torture taking place?”

Sylus gives him an amused smirk, gesturing toward the bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable,” he taunts, though his look is almost understanding.

It makes Xavier unreasonably angry. He shakes his head and turns away before he punches Sylus in the face.

Once in the bedroom, Xavier feels lost in a space that no longer feels like his. Desperate for a distraction, he makes the bed and tidies up. Seeing the flowers littering the floor is a painful reminder, filling him with guilt and regret. Eventually, he settles into the reading nook nestled in the bay window, giving him a front-row seat to the bed.

Dread lingers, but mostly he feels numb. That’s why he keeps drinking—to keep his emotions at bay.

Sylus lays your unconscious form on the bed. Xavier's heart seizes when Sylus gently slips your shorts off, a protest forming on his lips. The only thing keeping him from tearing Sylus apart is that he leaves your lace panties in place.

Xavier downs his drink and pours another, trying to remain calm as Sylus settles against the headboard and pulls your limp form into his lap.

Sylus watches Xavier as his fingers slip under your shirt, traveling across your skin. “Consider this a practice round. You need to compose yourself before she wakes. She won't consent to this if she thinks it might hurt you.”

Xavier’s gaze travels slowly over your body like a phantom caress, struggling to control his emotions. How could he forget how beautiful you are? He gives Sylus a cold, mocking smile. “Your time starts now, and you don’t have long… Better hurry if you plan to convince me.”

As if there were any chance of that happening. This entire thing is a waste of time. Xavier will never be okay with another man having you.

Sylus’s voice is a low, sultry command. “Guide my hand, Xavier… Tell me where to touch her.”

Fear seizes him as Xavier watches you stir in Sylus’s arms. “I—I can't,” he whispers.

“Yes. You can,” Sylus says firmly. “We can start small, but you need to lead.” He meets Xavier’s eyes. “I concede to the fact that she’s ultimately chosen you. But it’s starting to piss me off that you seem to be taking that for granted. Now, man up, Xavier. Where do I touch her?”

Xavier’s eyes rake over your form again. Starting small is a solid idea. His voice is small as he says, “Hold her hand.”

Sylus entwines his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking your skin as he waits for the next instruction.

The pain Xavier feels when you stir in your sleep, squeezing Sylus’s hand with a soft sigh, is sharp and brutal. Somehow, he manages to say, “H-her hair is falling in her face. Tuck it back.”

Sylus is careful not to wake you as he gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

Nausea churns in Xavier’s gut, and his words come out strangled as he whispers, “Run your fingers up and down her arm.”

Holding Xavier’s gaze, Sylus complies. Xavier isn’t even aware that he says, “I… Both arms now,” out loud until he sees Sylus’s touch make slow, torturous trips along the length of the limbs.

Xavier’s throat bobs as he states, “I think I’m ready. You can wake her up now.” Ready, in reality, for this to be over.

“Keep going,” Sylus commands.

Xavier curses under his breath, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head before sighing in resignation. Pain clouds his blue eyes, seeming to drape over his being like a heavy blanket. Somehow, he chokes out, “Kiss her cheek, then.”

Sylus lifts your chin and kisses your cheek before resting his head against yours, giving Xavier an amused smile.

“Her lips now…” Xavier whispers on a choked breath. He needs to speed things along; he isn’t sure how much longer he can hold on. It's taking all his self-control not to rip you away from Sylus. Anger and something akin to terror buzz along Xavier’s skin, mixing with the liquor in his body to create an overwhelmingly potent effect.

Sylus hums with satisfaction as he cups your cheek, his eyes searching your sleeping face before capturing your mouth in a lingering kiss. The crimson orbs burn bright as they turn back to Xavier, waiting patiently.

“Stroke her thighs… but—only a little,” Xavier breathes out, his tone taking on a slightly different note. Sylus can see that he’s still hesitant, but there’s also a faint trace of desire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

Sylus chuckles and shakes his head. “Maybe you are ready.”

Xavier nearly stops him when he starts to draw you out of sleep, but he can’t find it in himself to move, much less speak.

He just watches, wide-eyed, as you open your sleepy eyes, peering up at Sylus in confusion.

You sense Xavier’s presence immediately. Head snapping up, surprise and happiness light your features before worry washes them out. Searching Sylus's face frantically, your voice is barely a whisper as you ask, “What’s going on…?”

Suddenly, you notice your shorts are gone, and you’re dressed in nothing but one of Xavier’s shirts and your panties, tucked against Sylus’s chest with his hands splayed over your thighs.

Sylus can see your panic swelling like a visible force. His voice is a low, velvety murmur as he promises, “Everything’s fine, dove. Your hunter and I are just conducting a little experiment, right?” He looks at Xavier and raises his brows expectantly. Xavier keeps his face as blank as possible, meeting your eyes with a clipped nod.

Sylus grips your hips and pulls you close, sitting you up a bit to give Xavier a better view, murmuring, “Let’s continue.”

Confusion swells within you, and you squirm in Sylus’s arms, trying to break free. It’s futile, though; his grip is gentle yet unyielding. Defeated, you sink back against him and demand again, “What the fuck is happening right now?”

You look into Xavier’s eyes for an answer, but he offers none. Instead, he gives you a cold stare before turning to Sylus and instructing in a low, firm voice, “Kiss her again.”

Your surprised squeak of, “Excuse me!?” is quickly swallowed by Sylus's mouth as his tongue pries yours open for a slow, thorough exploration. He momentarily loses himself in your taste and warmth, but Xavier’s murmur of "pull her hair while you do it” drags him back.

Grinning against you, Sylus tangles his fingers in your hair. He pulls tightly, drawing out a low moan from you as he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss.

Between presses of your lips and strokes of your tongues, Sylus seeks Xavier's gaze, his glowing eyes piercing into Xavier’s to ensure he doesn’t overstep.

Sylus meant it; he has no issue with sharing you. He’s confident that, eventually, he’ll be the one who satisfies you best. He was prepared for this all along, knowing it was what you would most desire.

His only goal is to please you; everything else he can endure. However, this isn’t turning out to be the burden he was expecting. The desire blooming in the man watching from across the room is undeniably pleasant. Not to mention how arousing it is to make Xavier watch Sylus touch what Xavier considers his.

You manage to squeak, “Please let me go!” but Sylus’s hand muffles your plea as he shoots you a soft smile.

Your eyes widen when you hear Xavier chuckle quietly at the sharp look of irritation you give Sylus as you struggle in his hold before ultimately going limp, seemingly giving in to whatever this is.

You must be dreaming.

That’s the only logical explanation. You’re still asleep in your empty apartment, and your mind is inventing outrageous scenarios to cope.

Because there is absolutely no way in hell that your extremely jealous lover would look this turned on while watching another man touch you.

Fierce anger lingers in Xavier’s eyes, but something much sharper lurks beneath the surface. Sylus pulls his hand back, giving you a chance to mumble, “Is this punishment for something?” with a little pout.

Surprisingly, Xavier responds, “We all know this is far from that for you." You shoot him a sharp glare and stick out your tongue in a childish gesture.

Sighing at the situation's absurdity, you rest against Sylus, touching his thighs. Tracing languid shapes over the fabric of his pants with your fingers, you direct all your attention toward Xavier.

As happy as you are to see him, you’re also deeply upset with Xavier. He left you as if you were nothing to him. Of everything that’s happened, that's been the worst sting of all.

If they were forcing you to comply, perhaps you can get some satisfaction by pissing Xavier off. While the desire to do whatever it takes to make him forgive you is powerful, the need to make him hurt as badly as you’ve been hurting since he left is more potent.

Xavier rolls his eyes and leans back casually. His blue eyes burn with a dark, cocky amusement that is single-handedly the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Feeling defiant, you tip your head back and try to pull Sylus in for a kiss, only for him to stop halfway and look silently at Xavier for permission. Seriously? Is that how this is going to go? You’re not sure which is sharper—your irritation or arousal. Sure enough, Xavier confirms your thoughts, answering Sylus quietly, “Go ahead,” Xavier shrugs, looking almost bored as he sips his glass.

Sylus searches your gaze with such tenderness that it nearly softens your irritation. His lips curve slightly before capturing yours.

Xavier watches as you go limp in Sylus’s arms, just as you have in his so many times before, while rage simmers inside him. Perhaps this is exactly what he needs—to see your raw, unfiltered desire for the man holding you in his arms. Maybe then, he’ll finally be able to let you go.

“I think you can do better than that,” he taunts Sylus after the brief kiss.

Sylus’s eyes snap to Xaviers with genuine amusement before he adjusts you, cradling you in his lap.

Focusing all his attention on you, Sylus cradles your cheek and gives you a smile that’s as tender as his touch. “May I?” he murmurs.

His deep voice and the longing in his eyes send electricity through your limbs. Without a second thought, your hands tangle in his silver hair as you pull him down and crush your lips to his. You lose yourself in him instantly, gripping him desperately as you suck and nibble on his lips. A quiet moan of pleasure escapes you, only to be greedily devoured by his mouth.

Suddenly, you remember Xavier is watching. Jumping nearly two feet from Sylus, your anguished features meet Xavier’s stunned ones.

“I’m so sorry, Xavier. I didn’t mean to—”

“Again,” Xavier commands dispassionately.

Hurt courses through you in vicious, painful waves. Is Xavier seriously going to let this happen? Does he really not care at all if someone else claims you? Sylus sees something die a little inside, your face falling as tears swell in your eyes.

Sylus is trying to bring you back to life, to help trade your tears of sadness for ones of ecstasy. If Xavier is determined to continue being cold to you, maybe he doesn’t deserve to take the lead.

Sylus pushes you back onto the bed, his body settling between your legs and pressing you into the comforter. He doesn’t waste a single second. Hand caressing the nape of your neck, he angles it to place gentle kisses and bites on every inch of skin he can reach.

Your taste, your scent, your softness—you’re fucking addicting. Sylus groans deeply against your mouth when your quiet sounds turn into needy little whimpers that you fail to hold back.

You push weakly at his chest and meet his gaze, longing clouding your voice even as you say, “Please, Sy. T-too much…” Worry fills you as your gaze flicks quickly back to Xavier, whose silhouette is barely visible in the room’s shadows. Not knowing how he’s feeling makes you feel sick with unease.

Sylus grabs your chin and gently pushes his thumb into your mouth, murmuring, “Suck, sweetie.” Eyes widening in surprise, you do as he asks, simply unable to resist. You watch lust take him over when you swirl your tongue around his skin and suck harder.

Turning to Xavier with a flash of genuine anger, Sylus declares, “I wasn’t lying when I said she hasn’t allowed me to touch her. You’ve buried yourself so deeply into her psyche that she calls out for you even in her sleep.”

His smile is cold and emotionless as he continues, “You left her. And without a second thought at that. If you agreed to this so that you can treat her as if she’s done something wrong—then you can get the fuck out.”

Shutting Xavier out completely, Sylus wraps his hand around your neck and squeezes tenderly. He nuzzles your nose and presses his lips to yours. The kiss starts slow and soft. Xavier senses your hesitancy but isn’t surprised when you give in to your desire. Body arching into Sylus, you deepen the kiss, pressing yourself as close as you can.

Sylus’s words echo in Xavier’s mind, further muddling his feelings. Knowing that you’ve remained loyal to him even when you had every opportunity and reason to forget him thaws Xavier’s heart just a little. Perhaps that’s what guides him as he moves around the room, flicking on fairy lights that shine like gentle stars in the darkness.

You watch him with narrowed eyes as he sits at a safe distance. He can see you so clearly in the gentle glow of the lights.

Xavier realizes it's the first time he’s really looked at you since he arrived, and his heart drops at what he sees. You look like you haven’t slept since he left, even though that’s practically all you’ve done. You’ve lost weight, and the light behind your eyes that’s so dear to Xavier has disappeared completely.

All Xavier sees now is pain, anger, and a sharp hint of betrayal. It’s fair—he knows he should have given you a chance to explain before leaving your life without looking back. But he was so scared… He couldn’t bear the thought of going through another situation like with Mai ever again. It was a boundary he had to set, no matter how much it killed him. Did he put both of you through this hell for nothing, though? It’s an agonizing thought. This plan of Sylus’s isn’t likely to end well, but at that moment, Xavier decides he can give it a chance for you.

Tears fill your eyes as Xavier’s demeanor softens, his features filling with deep regret. Setting your jaw and looking away, you try to hold onto your anger. His tender and infuriatingly beautiful gaze puts a crack in your defenses that you aren’t ready for yet. When Xavier meets Sylus’s eyes, Sylus is pleased to see they’re resolute, and that Xavier’s voice is firm yet tender as he says, “Make her feel good for me—I haven’t earned the right to touch her yet.”

In agreement, Sylus’s lips capture yours in a searing kiss. You jump in surprise when his fingers begin a languid path between your breasts. “You have no idea how much I care about you,” he says earnestly.

He pulls back, searching your eyes. You can hardly breathe as he murmurs, “I know you haven’t accepted me like this. Not yet.” You open your mouth to argue, but his thumb presses on your bottom lip, keeping you quiet. He asks, “Will you give me a chance to show you why you should?”

Body heating painfully, you fight the urge to give him exactly what he wants. Xavier notices your eyes flicker to him at Sylus’s request as if silently seeking his permission. He can see in your eyes that if he asks you to stop, you will without hesitation. But the only way that ends is with you unhappy when you inevitably have to choose between them once again. Giving you a smile meant to convey comfort and acceptance, Xavier feels his heart thump at the light that returns to your eyes.

“I’ll be right over here,” he assures you before retreating to his spot.

Sylus almost looks worried you might reject him. A grin lights your features as you tease, “Well, what are you waiting for then? I told you I only see you as a friend, Sy… I’m going to need a lot of convincing.” You inhale his soft laughter as your tongue dances with his.

This is the first time you’ve kissed guilt-free, the first time you’ve touched his body without your desire being overwhelmed by shame. Although Sylus’s kisses are deep and unhurried, when he pulls back, both of you are flushed and breathless. Hands cradling your head, he guides it as he pleases.

Kisses cover your neck and shoulders, interspersed with nibbles and flicks of his tongue that make you whine quietly beneath him. Hands fisting into his shirt, you pull him closer. When you turn toward Xavier and meet his eyes, shock courses through you. His expression is a mix of desire and restraint; he looks like he wants to break Sylus’s hands as they trail your body, but there’s an unmistakable arousal simmering there, too. He gives you a faint, reassuring smile before returning his attention to Sylus’s mouth, which is trailing dangerously close to your clothed breast.

Xavier’s breath quickens, his hands clenching tightly as his heart races impossibly fast. Sylus sits up and settles against the headboard again, his eyes sin incarnate as he tilts his head slightly, gesturing for you to come closer with a finger. His eyes light when you crawl to him with a teasing grin before settling on his lap, a startled squeak leaving you as he playfully smacks your ass. The way he bites his lip and groans at the sensation makes you absolutely feral. Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist and drawing your face to his, you bite and suck on his perfect lips until they’re slick and swollen. You had no idea how badly you needed him...

His soft, alluring sounds and the touch of his hands are so perfect they’re almost painful. But you force yourself to calm down, stopping to hug him close and slow your pounding heart. He holds you tight, his deep chuckle rumbling against you when you bury your face in his neck and groan in frustration.

You want to devour Sylus whole, but you’d still rather not do it right before Xavier. The rumble of Sylus’s laugh vibrates through your entire being. “What’s the matter, sweetie? Have I convinced you a little too well? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re flustered.”

Your bubbly, playful smile shines back at him. “I just think it’s amusing how creation made you utterly flawless yet couldn’t make it possible for you to carry a tune.” You earn a playful nip to the neck as Sylus mutters, “Watch it.”

He frowns when he cradles your neck, trying to bring your lips back to his, and you hesitate. “I can tell you want this. So why are you still holding back?” His deep murmur against your ear stokes the flames within you.

“I just—” Your gaze flickers to Xavier before settling back on Sylus as pain threatens to wash out your desire.

Sylus gives you a knowing look and guides you to rest between his thighs so you face Xavier instead. Xavier curses quietly as your back settles against Sylus’s chest with a guilty, nervous expression.

Sylus studies Xavier through languid, sultry eyes as he slowly draws your hair back and nips the shell of your ear, trailing kisses down your neck. Xavier looks pained; he already knows what comes next. “Choose where we go, hunter. It seems our little dove is still worried about your precious feelings.”

Sylus wholeheartedly expects Xavier to refuse. This is the pivotal moment in this scheme, and if Xavier is going to back out, now would be the time.

But instead, Xavier’s burning gaze pierces into you before wandering to your clothed chest.

“Lift her shirt. I…I’ve really missed those perfect tits,” Xavier instructs, though a hint of regret lingers in his words.

Pain and betrayal wash over you as you shoot Xavier a withering look, earning a startled one in return. “What happened to me being ‘all yours,’ Xavier? Or was that a lie, just like loving me was?” you snap.

Xavier is completely taken aback, his voice low and strangled, “I’m doing this because I love you…” Huffing in annoyance and casting your gaze away, you hear Xavier’s voice fill the air again. “I don’t like this. But I just…” He looks at Sylus as he finishes, repeating quietly, “Lift her shirt.”

Sylus grins, knowing he has Xavier exactly where he wants him. “Should we show him, sweetie? I don’t know if he deserves it…”

Feeling incredibly pissed off and petty, you answer, “He doesn’t, but you do,” guiding his hands to the hem of your shirt.

Sylus chuckles as he lifts the fabric, and you turn your gaze to Xavier. “Isn’t this your shirt, Xai? Sucks that you have to watch another man take it off of me, huh?” You smile innocently as anger flashes in his eyes.

It's taking every ounce of Xavier’s restraint not to put a stop to this. His uneasy groan fills the room as Sylus slowly lifts the fabric, his intoxicating gaze locked on Xavier until you are fully exposed.

His gentle fingers circle your belly button before traveling up. Sylus asks Xavier, knowing you need to hear it, “May I?” Xavier’s eyes flash, and he hangs his head for a moment before nodding reluctantly. Humming in approval, Sylus's hands continue their journey. Pressing his cheek against yours, he murmurs, “Watch me, dove.”

You whine quietly when he cups the bottom of your breasts, his thumbs making gentle sweeps over your nipples. The silky buds instantly harden under his touch, the sensation pulling a pained groan from Sylus.

Xavier, compelled by something he can’t quite understand, says, “Slap them a little for me—they’re so pretty when they bounce.” Genuine arousal seeps into his eyes as Sylus delivers gentle smacks to your breasts, both of them entranced by the way they move. Groaning softly, you reach up to drag Sylus down for a kiss.

Xavier’s strangled voice breaks in. “She likes it when I tug and pinch her nipples… And if you tease the soft spot under her ear while you do it… she’ll be weak and whiny in seconds.”

A gentle moan of “fuck,” slips from you as Sylus’s thumb and finger start teasing your nipples. His touch is firmer and much more hungry now. Xavier was right—the slow, tantalizing licks of Sylus’s tongue and the warmth of his mouth do have you whining within seconds.

Xavier wants to touch you so badly… He wants to be the one drawing out those beautiful sounds, but he can’t find it in himself to move. Somehow, he can still speak: “Spit in her mouth.”

You groan in ecstasy as Sylus tilts your head back, and Xavier instructs, “Open wide for him, angel.” Feeling like you might spontaneously combust, you obey, and Xavier mutters heatedly, “Good girl… Now swallow.”

Sylus is extremely proud of his self-control. It’s taking everything in him not to bend you over fuck you senseless, whether you want him to or not. To distract himself, he glances at Xavier, giving him a provoking smile while tugging on your nipple. “Angel, huh?” He kisses your ear and asks, ‘Angel or dove, sweetie? Take your pick.”

You refuse to lie. “Angel,” you answer without hesitation, your stomach fluttering when a bit of light returns to Xavier’s eyes at the earnestness lacing your words.

Sylus’s low, unbothered chuckle brushes against your cheek as he kisses you softly. “We’ll see.”

You know what this is—a test run that decides everything. Xavier and Sylus are trying to make this work for you, and it’s the most heartwarming thing you’ve ever experienced. Your anger toward Xavier melts away as you look at him with magnetic eyes and ask, “What do you want to see him do to me next, Xai?”

Sylus gazes down at his palms, which glide over the curves of your hips and stomach, waiting for Xavier’s answer. Fingers gripping your soft flesh, he pulls you closer with a soft, “Come here…” When his erection presses against your ass, you burst into a fit of giggles, earning a surprised look from both men.

Sylus narrows his eyes and flicks your cheek. “What exactly is so funny, sweetie? And be very careful with your answer.”

You squirm, grinding against him and giggling again. “It’s just that… It’s your dick, Sylus! I can’t wrap my head around it.” Your giggles turn into full-blown laughter, but you fall silent when Sylus slaps his hand over your mouth and grabs your hip, moving you against him. He frees you and moves to your breast when your head falls back with a sigh of pleasure.

Looking down at you, he mumbles, “Are you finished?” Your eyes roll back as he makes a pointed thrust against your ass. You can feel him so well through the thin fabric of your panties. “So big, Sy,” you murmur dreamily. “Much better,” Sylus’s voice is a low, decadent growl as he continues his movements against you.

You lift your head off Sylus’s chest and peek at Xavier through eyes filled with need. You reach out for him, and he hesitates, desire and nervousness flickering on his features. “Please?” you whisper, searching his face.

Both of you move simultaneously, his long legs covering the distance to reach you in an instant. Jumping into his arms before he can climb into bed, you wrap your legs around his waist, clinging on as he sits on the edge. Tears flow down your cheeks as he hugs you back. Pulling away, you punch him hard in the arm, earning a surprised gasp and a pout as he massages the tender spot.

“You owe me breakfast for the rest of our lives, Xavier. And if you try to leave me again, I’ll tie you up and make you stay.”

Narrowing your eyes, Xavier smiles teasingly. “Is that meant to be a punishment?” His innocent voice makes you want to kiss and punch him again.

“Don’t be cute. You aren’t out of the water yet,” you mutter.

“But won’t being cute help get me rescued?” he asks with a questioning tilt of his head.

You playfully roll your eyes, heart soaring at being teased by him again.

Sylus stands and approaches you, cradling the back of your head and kissing you deeply before murmuring against your lips, “I’ll be back in a minute, dove.” You watch him leave, your heart swelling with gratitude for the privacy. Turning back to Xavier, you find his cheeks and ears bright red. He wasn’t ready for Sylus to kiss you in such proximity yet. He’s so adorably flustered you can’t help but kiss him, too. Hands resting on your back, he presses you against him as his tongue pries your mouth open. The kiss is hungry and hurried, as is your touch on his body. Every move is to savor him so his essence can quench your weary soul.

After a few minutes, though, Xavier reluctantly pulls back. Cupping your cheek, voice full of longing, he says, “We’ll have time alone later.”

Xavier needs to know the truth in your heart before proceeding. Brushing his hair back, you kiss him tenderly, basking in the happy lift of his face. “You know we don't have to do this, right?”

He casts his eyes away, sadness filling them again as he murmurs, “But I can see how much you want him—”

You silence him with a finger to his lips, locking on to his gaze with a fierce, earnest expression as you promise, “There’s nothing in this world I want more than you, Xavier. And that will never change.” Nuzzling his nose, you rest your forehead against his. “I was going to tell you that, but you never gave me the chance,” you whisper painfully.

Tears swim in his eyes as he holds you tighter and asks, “You mean it?”

You smile gently and nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close. Pain and guilt play on Xavier’s face as he whispers, “I’m so sorry… I just panicked…” Wiping away a tear and tracing his cheek, you softly assure him, “It’s okay. I’ll hold a grudge for a little longer, but I understand.”

His head rests on your shoulder as he gives a quiet, relieved laugh, kissing your skin tenderly.

Feeling like a weight lifted from your reunion, you start to get up, telling Xavier, “I think I’ll ask Sylus to go home for the night. We can all talk tomorrow.” The thought alone makes you feel ill. But Xavier grips your hips tightly, looking conflicted as he holds you in place. Unable to meet your eyes, his quiet voice skitters across your skin. “No. It’s okay. We can continue,” he says quietly.

Concern fills you as you tilt your head in confusion and assure him, “I never want you to do something you don’t want to, Xai.” Still avoiding your eyes, his cheeks heating, he mumbles, “I don’t necessarily not want to...” Xavier groans as your face lights up with glee, poking him in the side, teasing, “I see, I see…” He pins your hands down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss.

The urge to tease him lingers. Slowly licking the shell of his ear, you murmur, “So, does only my pleasure turn you on, or does Sylus as well?” Knowing Xavier has been attracted to men before and considering Sylus’s allure, it’s a fair question.

Your touch is gentle as you brush your fingers through his hair, and your warm, accepting smile makes it easy for Xavier to open up.

His eyes grow heated as they find your lips, casually shrugging before kissing you so intensely it steals your breath away.

Arousal sweeps through you as you murmur, “My naughty boy… you are so perfect, you know that?”

“No... But I might start believing it if you say it some more,” he replies with a heartbreakingly radiant smile.

Your fingers begin traveling under his shirt, reveling in his warmth and the softness of his skin. Moving slowly, you deliberately commit every inch to memory this time, just in case you ever lose him again. Memories don’t do Xavier justice, though. He allows you to slip his shirt off before his hand squeezes your breast, taking it into his mouth. Holding your gaze, his tongue and lips turn the bud red and sensitive before moving to the next. Xavier expertly blends purity and filthiness into an art, using his puppy-dog eyes and faux innocence to mold you into putty in his hands. Sucking on your breasts with a look that says, “You know you like it,” when he notices your wince of pain at the sensitivity.

Releasing your nipple from his mouth, he captures your lips instead. When he finally lets you up for air, you plead, “Promise you’ll tell me if you get uncomfortable? I don’t want to hurt you...” With a mischievous grin, he replies, “I don’t think I’ll be the one getting hurt tonight, angel.”

Sylus’s deep laughter fills the air as he strides confidently, leaning in to kiss you without hesitation. The possessiveness of the gesture pisses Xavier off, but he clenches his jaw and says nothing, instead taking in your blissed-out smile when Sylus pulls away.

You have no idea how irresistible you are, especially like this—your skin flushed, eyes bright, wanting nothing more than to give and receive pleasure. Xavier still fucking hates this. He detests that you need something more than what he can provide. Every time Sylus touches you, he wants to run him through with his lightblade.

But he can’t deny that your uninhibited ecstasy is stoking more than just his jealousy. When this started, he wanted to run as far away as possible. The tender way you regard Sylus and the fierce admiration in your eyes bring a potent pain that Xavier is sure he can never move past. But things began to shift when he instructed Sylus to touch and please you. It’s confusing to feel so helpless yet in control of a situation.

Xavier suspects that Sylus let him take the lead because he knew Xavier needed it, which softened Xavier toward him just a bit. Sylus treats you respectfully and cares for you nearly as much as Xavier, making this easier to bear. Not to mention it's turning out to be an excellent test of his composure. He takes pride in his restraint, and pushing himself to his limit has become strangely enjoyable.

Xavier guides your back to arch, making your pretty tits point toward Sylus. With languid eyes, he gives Sylus silent permission. Lips curling into a soft, pleased small, Sylus leans down to flick his tongue over your nipple, giving it a teasing nip before pulling it into his mouth.

Sylus’s hand replaces Xaviers on your back as Xavier’s hands squeeze your breasts while Sylus’s mouth worships them both. Xavier’s heart flutters when he replaces Sylus’s mouth with his own, and your quiet sounds of pleasure turn into needy little whimpers as you grind against him.

Xavier glances at Sylus and murmurs, “I think I stole your turn.” Tilting your sultry gaze towards him, he asks, “Do you want her back?”

Sylus’s pupils dilate, the surrounding crimson burning brighter as a pleased groan escapes him. Lifting you off Xavier’s lap, he wraps your legs around his waist instead.

Your lips find his immediately, and your touch becomes greedy, with nothing left to hold you back. Hands gliding over his body, you memorize how every muscle feels beneath your fingers. When you run out of bare skin to caress, you slip his shirt off without hesitation and toss it carelessly aside. The sight of his sculpted chest elicits a deep blush from you, and an amused grin from him.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he teases. Your eyes, filled with desire, meet his as you mumble, “Yeah, but it’s different now...”

Wonder tinges his voice as he places your hand over his heart, whispering, “Yeah.”

Xavier sits on the bed with his legs spread, motioning to the spot in front of him at the edge. “Sit her here,” he says softly. Sylus obeys, and Xavier moves closer, pressing you against his back. His hand rests on your stomach, fingers tracing the edge of your panties.

His voice is gentle as he looks at Sylus and says, “Take them off for me.” Sylus’s fingers replace Xavier’s as they hook under the lace and gently slip the fabric down your legs.

Sylus’s eyes trail down your body, but Xavier closes your legs tight, his lips curving slightly. The possessiveness of the gesture sends heat flooding your body and anger flaring inside Sylus before arousal quickly takes its place. Sylus, who usually asserts dominance in the bedroom, isn’t opposed to reversed roles, even enjoying them. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes flitting over Xavier’s form with an amused, almost impressed smile. Xavier’s eyes hold a silent challenge as he softly instructs, “Stand in front of her.” Sylus is more than happy to comply.

He runs his hands along your legs, smiling at you before asking Xavier, “So what do I have to do to earn a look?”

Seeing the lust in Sylus’s eyes makes your body shudder with pleasure. If someone had asked you to envision this scenario, it wouldn’t have been like this….

Sylus exudes dominant energy, a stark contrast to Xavier’s quiet dominance. Their roles reversed from what you would have expected.

Brushing your hair back, Sylus tilts your chin, locking eyes with you. “Where do you want him to kiss you first, angel?” You whimper at Xavier's words, gazing at Sylus as you respond, “My lips.”

Sylus leans in, teasing, “We’ve been here, sweetie. Why not try something new?” Despite his words, he gives you a tender kiss, exploring your mouth with his tongue. Xavier grips your thighs tightly, his body tensing as he watches Sylus bite and tug on your lips. But when you sigh blissfully, and your hands tangle in Sylus’s hair, pulling him closer, the heat of desire overtakes a piece of the lingering anger.

When Sylus pulls back, your bright, glassy eyes flick toward your breasts in a silent request. Sylus’s eyes follow suit as he pinches your nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers. Xavier cups your breasts in a playful jiggle before offering them for Sylus to suck.

Xavier’s hand slides slowly down your body, seeking the warmth between your thighs. Cursing softly upon feeling your slick, satiny skin, his voice is strained as he says, “Baby… You’re so wet for us." Holding his sticky fingers up, Sylus intercepts them, sucking them clean while locking eyes with him, suggesting, “I think I’ve earned a taste, don’t you?”

Xavier blushes, glancing away as he adjusts behind you. Sylus's tone is innocent, “Oh no, did I overstep?” Instead of answering, Xavier kisses your cheek and slowly opens your legs, exposing you to Sylus’s gaze. Surprised, Sylus drops to one knee, squeezing your inner thighs apart for a better view.

He's eager to explore further, yearning to feel your warmth wrapped around his tongue. “What a pretty pussy, dove,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your thigh before looking up at Xavier for guidance. “Do you want to make her cum? She’ll taste even better,” Xavier suggests quietly. The suggestion elicits a needy groan as you wiggle down to get closer to Sylus’s face. “Please, Sylus,” you beg, desperation lacing your voice.

Sylus’s eyes darken as he locks onto you with a soft growl of approval. Xavier pulls your legs to either side of your head, holding your folds open for Sylus. Sylus delicately brushes over your soft skin, his throat working quickly as he admires the warmth and wetness. “One or two, sweetie?” he asks. Blushing, you whisper, “Two.”

Holding your gaze, Sylus slides his fingers inside you, delicately exploring your velvety walls. Your pussy tightens around him, eliciting a nearly desperate sound from Sylus as his composure falters. Unable to contain himself any longer, he teases your sensitive skin with warm breath before licking a flat stripe across you, replacing his fingers with his tongue.

Your body clasps onto him tightly, making his cock throb almost achingly in his pants at the thought of taking his mouth's place. His touch carefully maps out every spot that makes his little birdie sing. Initially tender and unhurried, soon his tongue is moving within you as his lips and teeth embrace you wholly.

Xavier’s fingers instinctively tangle in Sylus’s hair, holding on tightly. Realization dawns on him, his eyes widening as his hand hesitates on Sylus’s head, embarrassment washing over him. Just as he considers pulling back, Sylus glances at him through glassy eyes before they drift closed again in acceptance.

The sigh of Xavier pressing Sylus’s face against you, his nose brushing your clit just right, is almost overwhelming. Your release surges and engulfs you completely in seconds, leaving you trembling in Xavier’s embrace, tears brimming in your eyes. “Holy shit,” you whine, pulling Xavier down for a kiss. “Can he be inside me, Xai? Please?” you plead.

Kisses trail down your neck while his fingers explore your folds, playing in your essence with a pleased hum. “You can have anything you want, angel. You’re being so good for us,” he murmurs.

Sylus bites his lip, a small sound escaping him as he quickly frees his cock. A needy moan slips out at the sight, his impressive length promising the most perfect kind of destruction. Positioning yourself between Xavier’s legs, lying on your stomach, you kick your feet in giddy anticipation of tasting him.

Your heart races when Sylus wraps his large hand around himself, stroking slowly as he approaches you with a teasing smile. “Someone’s excited,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek with affectionate eyes.

You playfully respond, “I want to see if I can take it all in my mouth.” But upon taking him in your mouth, the playful mood evaporates. He's warm and velvety soft, the prominent vein driving you absolutely wild, urging your tongue to flick out for a taste. A single taste evolves into greedy licks and kisses as you savor his essence.

Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you gaze up at him dreamily and whisper, “Does it feel good, Sy? Really wanna make you feel good…” You already know—he’s gripping your hair tightly, holding back from taking control, releasing intoxicating sounds that make you dizzy. But you still cherish hearing him say, “It’s fucking perfect, sweetie,” before succumbing to ecstasy with each flick of your tongue.

Xavier's fingers fill you, establishing a slow, steady rhythm. Moaning around Sylus, you arch your back to grind against Xavier’s hand. His approving hum accompanies him grabbing your ass with a gentle shake, lust gleaming in his eyes as he witnesses you taking Sylus’s cock.

Sylus eases his hold and affectionately strokes your hair, his head falling back with a quiet curse as you take him halfway. You whimper around him, your lips cracking slightly as you struggle to accommodate his girth.

He caresses your cheek and says softly, “Don’t force it, dove. Not many people can take me all the way.”

You narrow your eyes and pop him out of your mouth. “I know you did not just say that.”

His low chuckle fills the air. “I didn’t mean anything by it, sweetie. It’s simply a fact.”

Determined, you spit on his cock and coat it messily around, gritting out, “Just watch me, asshole,” earning an amused snort from Xavier. This time, it’s easier to slide him in halfway. You plan to keep him there for a moment to prepare yourself, but Xavier gently pushes you down until your nose presses against Sylus. Tears fill your eyes as you choke around him, cupping his swollen balls with a little whimper. Sylus gives Xavier an amused look, to which Xavier shrugs innocently, his lips curling slightly as he kisses your pussy before sliding his tongue inside.

Sylus’s fucks your throat slow and deep as his fingers massage your head soothingly. “Can you take it for me?” Excitement fills you, and you nod around him eagerly, pushing his cock further as you grind against Xavier’s mouth. Sylus groans, his hand fisting in your hair again as he murmurs, “Tap me if I hurt you, sweetie.” He pulls out, coating your lips in his essence before snapping his hips and pushing all the way in. He repeats this several times, his brows knitting together as his movements turn hungry.

He reaches beneath you to grab your swinging breast, his burning gaze locking onto Xavier’s face pressing against you. Sylus’s thrusts are sharp and quick, aiming to bring more pretty tears to your eyes and ruin your perfect face. His body stills, though, when you tap his thigh frantically. He pulls out quickly, concern swelling until you look at him through glassy eyes and plead, “Wanna finish with you inside me…”

You spin around in Xavier’s lap and lean back against him again. He catches your lips in a tender, searching kiss before nuzzling your neck. “Hold my legs back again? I—I really liked that..” “Of course,” he murmurs, gently cupping under your knees and pulling them to your head.

Xavier admires your body, taking in the sight of your tight, dripping hole and your clit pulsing every so often with need. Your thighs are spread wide open, his fingers trailing down to rub your sensitive bud. “You know what you look like right now, angel?” he asks, spanking your clit lightly, desire and praise lacing his tone as he finishes, “Our perfect little fuck toy...” You’ve really missed him calling you that.

Sylus leans over you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he guides his cock through your sticky folds. As his precum mixes with your essence, you become even wetter, the combined warmth creating an intoxicating sensation. He lines himself up and reaches for Xavier’s hand, wrapping it around his length. “I need help fitting inside here, too.”

Xavier blushes fiercely, his eyes meeting Sylus’s. “Can I just—just for a minute…” he asks hesitantly. Sylus nods, his thumb brushing over your nipple. His eyes roll back as Xavier’s firm grip begins stroking his cock perfectly, tempting him to want more than just a minute. But Xavier clears his throat, gathering himself before asking, “I… Okay… are you ready?”

Sylus’s erection is painfully hard as Xavier aligns it with your entrance. With gentle fingers, Xavier slowly guides Sylus inside you, pausing whenever you squirm or whimper in pain. Just like with your mouth, Sylus gets halfway in before your body resists accepting the rest of him. Wrapping you in his arms, Xavier's hand rubs your clit while the other provides Sylus comfort until you can take it all.

A hoarse, strangled sound escapes Sylus as his hips pump slightly into Xavier's hand, pressing him a little deeper into you. Xavier kisses your cheek, his voice sinful, “You were made to be fucked, weren’t you? Look how well you’re taking him, baby… Drenching his cock and sucking him in deep. I bet you feel so good…”

Sylus’s hands slip under your thighs, needing something to hold on to as he endures the pressure of you squeezing him. “She’s so fucking tight. So…so warm,” Sylus murmurs. He moans softly, biting your leg as Xavier pushes his cock a little deeper. “Almost there, dove,” Sylus promises, nearly bottomed out. He gives a hoarse shout as Xavier grabs his ass and pushes the rest of his length into you.

Xavier glances at the base of Sylus’s cock, slick and stretching you open before his eyes drift to your tits, squished together between your thighs. He continues teasing your clit with one hand, roughly flicking and tugging your nipple with the other. “You can be rough if you want. That’s how she likes it,” Xavier assures Sylus. He places your hands on his legs and murmurs, “Only touch me right now,” his voice laced with a silent plea. Your teary eyes brim with love as you whisper, “I promise.” He leans back a bit, allowing you and Sylus more room.

Sylus presses your legs all the way back, settling his weight over you, digging his cock a little deeper. You squeeze Xavier’s legs tightly when Sylus’s thrusts turn unforgiving as he ruts into you. Capturing your mouth in a kiss, his breath ghosts over your lips as he asks, “Rough enough, sweetie?” Honestly, yes, but you still want him to fuck your harder. “Nope, not enough,” you choke out amid the force of his thrusts.

Sylus chuckles softly, pulling back and fucking into you so hard you can barely breathe. “Just like that…” you whisper.

Sylus eyes lock onto where you join, his cock stretching you so wide he can’t believe your body is allowing it. It’s incredibly challenging not to draw Sylus close. You cling to Xavier, trying to maintain self-control. Xavier’s soft voice fills your ear, “Is he making you feel good, angel?”

You whimper, nodding frantically, your tits bouncing wildly with the force of Sylus’s thrusts. Xavier kisses your cheek and whispers, “Do you want to show him how good you feel when you cum?” You groan, your pussy squeezing so tight it pulls a hoarse shout from Sylus. Xavier spanks your clit, then rubs in time with Sylus’s hips.

“Go ahead, baby,” Xavier says, giving your cheek a little nuzzle. Xavier guides Sylus by the chin, bringing his lips to yours. Sylus responds immediately, consuming you like a man starved.

You look into his eyes as you bite his lip with a teasing smile, seemingly driving him feral. Pressing you deeper into the sheets, his sweaty face rests on Xavier’s shoulder as his cock relentlessly hits your sweet spot, trying his best to hold back until you find your release.

“You feel better than I ever could have imagined, dove,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with ecstasy and desire. “So do you…” you whimper, yearning to hold him tightly as you fall over the edge.

Sylus nearly cries in relief when he feels you clench tightly around him, a cry of his name on your lips as your pussy throbs wildly. His hips slow slightly as he asks Xavier, “C-can I finish inside?”

Xavier’s body tenses, his hand leaving your clit as pain fills his features. He isn’t ready for you to be claimed that way. He’s unsure if he ever will be. His voice is quiet, and his arms tighten around you as he whispers, “Please. I can’t—”

Sylus gives him an understanding nod and grunts softly, continuing fucking into you mercilessly. “Guess I’ll have to paint this pretty body white, then.” He pulls out, fisting his cock roughly as thick ropes of cum warm your stomach and cunt.

His groan is painfully delicious as he continues to work out his essence. Releasing your legs, he squeezes your cheeks in his hand, kissing you deeply. Having your lips on his as his cock spasms in ecstasy is the best thing he’s felt in a long time. Sylus can’t help but smile when he sees your blissed-out expression and barely-open eyes.

The way Xavier cleans you up with a warm rag is so tender that it’s a shock to your system when he finishes and roughly pushes you onto your stomach, lifting your ass in the air with a sharp slap. You whimper softly when three of his fingers fuck into you forcefully. Sqeezing and shaking your ass, he watches where he enters you, desire and possessiveness in his every touch.

His nails dig into your skin a little, pulling a sharp gasp from you as your walls tighten and tremble around him. You didn’t realize how badly you missed the way Xavier fucks you—how he can be so tender and delicate, only to turn around and shower you with filthy words and perfect pain. As usual, your body yields to his will instantly, relaxing with a sigh of relief as you allow him to use you as an outlet for his frustrations.

A pleased hum leaves him when he feels your body go pliant in his hands, shaking your ass again and watching it bounce for a moment as his eyes darken. His voice is deceptively gentle as he asks, “So, baby, was he worth the punishment you’ll get for letting him fuck what’s mine?”

He grips your hair and turns your teary gaze toward Sylus, who you give a blissful smile before Xavier turns you away. Sylus hesitates nearby, his body tense as he watches Xavier manhandle you like you’re nothing but a doll. Xavier cocks his head slightly and assesses Sylus with a bored, amused look, gesturing toward the bed with a nod.

“You should sit. You need to make sure you can handle this,” he says in a low, calm tone that contradicts the way he fucks his fingers into you mercilessly. He pulls a sharp cry from you as you clutch helplessly at the bedsheets to fight the sting. Biting and sucking at your skin roughly, he leaves bruises and teeth marks littering your ass and thighs.

Sylus’s low growl fills the air as Xavier presses a finger onto your spot so hard that your vision swims and you squirm beneath him, whining, “It hurts, Xavier… please—” Sylus steps forward to intervene, but Xavier shoots him a warning look before asking you, “Please what, baby? Do you want me to stop?”

“No! Please, Xavier! please don’t stop…” you beg, ecstasy and longing evident in your very being. Xavier gives Sylus a cocky smirk as if to say, “See?”

Xavier waits for Sylus’s decision as he kisses your skin tenderly, murmuring, “Don’t forget your safe word, angel.” Nodding in response, you're unable to speak as your release builds and crashes, its intensity shattering you completely.

“That’s my girl,” Xavier praises gently as he pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them clean before driving his cock into you with a pointed thrust. Your tears flow harder when his hips start to move, overwhelmed by the sensation of feeling so whole again.

You wish so badly that you could touch him, but the way he’s pressing your cheek into the sheets as he takes you doesn’t really allow it.

Pussy clenching impossibly tight around him, your words are an incoherent stream filling the air, “Missed you—Missed you filling me up so much… so perfect…” Xavier sees stars as your words wash over him, your body reacting eagerly to his touch as you sync your movements with his.

Sylus isn’t sure how to feel as he sits in front of you. He can’t seem to shake his unease at you being treated this way. While Sylus is all for rough sex, Xavier is on another level entirely. Sylus can almost see the bruises forming on your skin under Xavier’s unforgiving touch.

“You okay, sweetie?” Sylus asks softly, smiling as you bury your face against his leg with a shaky “mhmm. Feels soo good…”

Xavier chuckles, his fingers digging into your ass as his hips piston inside you, drawing out another intense release as you cum around him. “Such a good girl,” he praises. Reaching around to stroke Sylus’s cock, Xavier grips your hair to meet your eyes. His soft, commanding tone makes you shiver.

“Make him cum for me, baby. I want to see him fall apart inside that pretty mouth,” he murmurs, guiding your head toward Sylus’s length. He can’t help but watch Sylus as you wrap your warm mouth around him—his crimson eyes fluttering shut, lips parted on a silent sound as Xavier pulls your hair tighter, bobbing you up and down.

Xavier takes Sylus’s chin in one hand while pushing your head down with the other, burying Sylus deep as you choke and drool around him. He meets Sylus’s gaze, his voice soft and strangely calm. “Does she feel good?” To his surprise, he genuinely wants to know the answer.

How is he opening up to Sylus so quickly? Xavier has never held anything but hatred for the man, yet it’s surprising how rapidly that seems to be changing. Sylus’s beauty has always pissed Xavier off, seeing it as nothing more than a tool he used to win Mai—and now you—over. But now, he finds it difficult to draw his eyes from Sylus’s face and enjoys touching him perhaps a little too much. He has to admit this newfound attraction is making things a lot easier.

Sylus lets himself go pliant in Xavier’s hand as he presses on his bottom lip. Xavier’s eyes catch there briefly before returning to Sylus’s gaze. “Well?” Xavier asks with a smirk—the answer is evident on Sylus’s face and in the way his body trembles with the effort of holding himself back. But Xavier wants to hear him say it. He grips Sylus’s chin tighter, eliciting a groan and a strangled “She feels fucking incredible…”

“Good boy,” Xavier says softly, patting Sylus’s cheek before pulling back. Sylus’s eyes widen momentarily before his lips curve into a wicked grin, and he murmurs, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, hunter?” Xavier shrugs in reply, slapping your ass before gripping your waist and fucking you harder. He keeps bobbing you on Sylus’s cock while his gaze locks on the way your pussy eagerly sucks him in.

It’s almost too much—the taste of Sylus, their warmth filling you, and the insanely hot dynamic developing between the two of them. Your release builds and builds, savoring the delicious feeling of dangling over the edge as Xavier kisses your back, moving fast and deep inside you.

“I can feel it… getting so fucking tight. Come on—cum for me, angel,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. Your very life is knocked out of you as your muffled cry rings out, and you spill all over Xavier. He murmurs in awe and giddy excitement, “Shit, baby… so mmuch! Look at you…”

His cock plays around messily for a while, slapping against your wet folds, squelching sounds filling the air as if he’s trying to be as noisy as possible.

He’s effectively working up both you and Sylus, whose eyes linger on Xavier before drifting to you and the way his cock stretches your pretty mouth out.

You look so damn beautiful when you’re choking around him. This may be the most stunning you’ve ever been, giving in to your raw desires in a desperate search for pleasure.

This has to end as planned because he isn’t sure he’ll actually be able to give you up. And how can he possibly return to being just friends now? Any part of him that remained hesitant to accept his love for you is long gone. He’s fallen for you completely, and there’s no return from it.

Sylus doesn’t look away from you, ecstasy clouding his features. “P-pull her off me now if you don’t want—” Sylus’s body begins to tremble. He’s trying to respect Xavier’s boundaries about finishing inside you, but Xavier is making it really fucking hard. Sylus’s voice is a low, warning growl, “Xavier—” but Xavier cuts him off.

Almost hesitant, Xavier murmurs, “I don’t mind if you finish in here.” You whimper at Xavier’s words, feeling Sylus’s cock throb in response. Xavier’s hips pause as he guides your head up and down. You squeeze your throat tightly around Sylus, excitement swirling at the thought of truly tasting him.

Xavier leans over you, kissing your shoulder and murmuring, “You’re doing so well, baby. Just a little bit longer for us…” Sylus muscles tense and quiver, his head smacking against the headboard as his breath leaves him on a sharp exhale. His hand takes Xavier’s place on your head, moving you just the way he wants as he pushes deep, filling your throat with his warmth.

Xavier grips your ass, his hips continuing their punishing pace. “Our good girl better take it all,” he commands. Needy moans wrap around Sylus as you eagerly swallow every drop he gives you. He pulls your hair gently and lifts you off his cock, his eyes flashing with desire when he sees your abused lips and blissful expression. He traces this thumb over your bottom lip before kissing you.

“Never in my wildest dreams would I have pictured you to be so perfectly filthy, sweetie,” he teases. “Happy to impress…” you mumble with a smile, squeaking as Xavier suddenly flips you onto your back before thrusting into you again. His hands brush your hair back before cradling your face, his forehead resting against yours.

You grip his arms desperately, trying to prove he’s really here with you. His absence left such a large wound that it’s proving difficult to heal, like a thirst that can’t be quenched.

“I missed you so much…” His voice is small and filled with regret as he continues, “I’m so sorry. I never should have left you. I was just… I was sure you were going to leave me...” It’s clear from his frantic, needy movements and the strength of his hold on you that he’s also trying to heal from the loss of your presence.

His deep kiss is a balm to your soul, pulling soft, pretty sounds from the deepest parts of you. The ability to speak has eluded you completely, and though you want to reassure Xavier that everything is okay, all you can do is deepen the kiss and convey it through your touch.

Sylus still rests back on the bed, his arm propped behind his head as he watches you closely. Tears flow silently down your cheeks, yet more joy shines on your face than Sylus has seen in weeks. Xavier is no different; he’s no longer the broken man Sylus walked into this house with. Earlier, his eyes were nearly emotionless, and what little emotion did bleed through was chilling and furious.

Now, Xavier is nothing but emotions—regret, love, pain, and an intense, raw desire that’s incredibly attractive. Xavier’s voice is a desperate plea, “Can I cum inside, angel? Need… Need to make you mine again. Please?” The words are almost nonexistent as they force themselves past the blinding pleasure consuming you. “I never stopped being yours, Xavier.”

Kisses cover your cheek and neck before Xavier buries his face against your skin, thrusting harder and harder, his labored breath panting softly against you. The most adorable, strangled sound leaves him as he rides out his orgasm with tiny, sharp thrusts before he buries himself deep, his heat melting every bit of you.

Murmuring his name, your body convulses with a gasp of pleasure, your warmth flooding his cock again. “T-twice, angel? … You are so fucking perfect,” he groans softly as he pulls you down onto the bed. Motioning for Sylus to lay next to you, Xavier rolls you to face him as they sandwich you between them. Both rest on their elbows—Sylus’s gaze tracing your form while Xavier’s lingers on Sylus’s face.

The desire in Sylus’s eyes is strangely arousing, a force he can’t seem to fight. Xavier’s finger brushes your bottom lip before it slides into your mouth for you to enjoy. Sylus’s lips part, and he seems to stop breathing entirely as he watches you suck Xavier’s finger like it’s his cock. “She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” Xavier murmurs. He slips his finger out of your mouth, gently guiding Sylus to take his place.

Lust clouds Sylus’s features as Xavier guides him in and out of your lips with a featherlight touch. Hooking your leg over Sylus’s hip, Xavier’s fingers brush Sylus’s shaft before slipping him inside you. Xavier carefully pays attention to Sylus’s reaction to his touches, not wanting to overstep. Gripping Sylus's hip, he guides his movements.

Sylus lets out a pleased groan, his eyes falling shut as he sinks into the blankets, resting his forehead against yours. He stays there a while, kissing your lips every so often as he savors the sensation of you being wrapped around him with Xavier's firm touch.

A strong sense of relief settles in Sylus when he sees Xavier kiss your cheek, his eyes filled with love as he focuses on every expression of ecstasy that crosses your face. Each sweet sound you make brings a small, proud smile to Xavier’s lips. This is working. Not only can Sylus see the acceptance in Xavier, but he can also feel it. You’ve all begun to move seamlessly, anticipating each other's needs effortlessly.

Sylus slips out of you, keeping your leg hooked over his as he firmly grasps Xavier’s cock, earning a breathless curse in response. Sylus smirks, his honeyed voice brushing against Xavier’s skin. “What’s wrong, hunter? I thought you liked it rough…”

He circles the tip of Xavier’s length around your entrance, earning pitiful sounds from both of you. As Sylus presses Xavier inside you, your pussy eagerly sucks him in. Xavier pulls your hair gently, arching your back so that Sylus can easily suck on your breasts.

Xavier’s touch grows tender as he reaches around to brush your clit. Long past overstimulated, the delicate touch is a shock to your system. Sylus captures your mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue twirling around yours as you cum. His hand travels over your body again, fingers pinching your nipple lightly before squeezing your breast with a soft groan and a kiss to your cheek. You think you give him a smile but you can’t be sure.

They take turns slipping in and out of your warm pussy while their lips and teeth tease your skin. Xavier’s breath ghosts over your ear as he murmurs, “My perfect girl…” He catches Sylus’s heavy-lidded gaze, searching his face for a moment before correcting himself. “Our perfect girl,” Xavier says before blushing and glancing away. He’s pretty sure he’s gone insane, yet he’s strangely okay with it.

“I won’t last much longer,” he tells Sylus. Crimson eyes burn languidly as Xavier tilts his head slightly, eyeing Sylus’s lonely cock. “Want me to help?” he asks, kissing your cheek. Sylus doesn’t answer; just props onto his elbow and guides Xavier’s hand to his length, urging him to take it in a firm grip.

Xavier presses his face against your hair, grinding deep inside you, as Sylus gently grabs your throat, his mouth languidly searching yours. Soft sounds of pleasure fill the room as you move together, a pretty tangle of sweaty limbs and ecstasy.

Sylus comes first with a huff of air caressing your face as he holds you close. Xavier works every drop of Sylus’s warmth out as he feels his orgasm inching closer, covering your stomach and the sheets in the stickiness as he fucks you harder. Xavier falls the moment he feels your body grip him tightly, grinding against him with tiny movements, fervently riding your pleasure.

Wrapping you in his arms, he moves deep with slow, loving strokes as his cum spills inside you, its presence healing your heart a little more. Xavier nuzzles your neck, kissing your skin softly. “You’re a mess, baby…” he murmurs, giving you a teasing smile. Pouting, you pretend to be irritated. “And whose fault is that?”

You huff and turn away, prompting Xavier to tickle your side in retaliation. Sylus’s fingers brush your cheek as he gives you a tender, amused look. “Are you going to try and tell us that you didn’t enjoy yourself, sweetie?”

Cheeks heating, you try to hide your face as you mumble, “There’s really no hiding that.” Sylus chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear and smirking at Xavier. “I suppose not. Our little birdie sings so loud... You may be better at holding a tune than me,” he teases.

You snort, cracking an eye open in amusement, “There’s no “may be” about it.” Xavier gives something between a laugh and a groan as he slips out of you. “Neither of you can sing,” he offers, trying to hide his smile. The scoff of disbelief you both give him is comical, as is Sylus’s low warning— “Watch it. Or you might not find me so gentle next time.”

Xavier smirks, helping you from the bed and toward the shower, tossing a casual “Promise?” over his shoulder on the way out. Part of Sylus wants to follow, pushing Xavier against the shower wall and showing him just how rough he can be. But he’s mentally and physically exhausted. The weight of worrying about how this would end has lifted, leaving a bone-deep fatigue in its place. It might be the first time he’s felt entirely at ease since he left Mai.

He showers quickly after you and Xavier, stopping by the bedroom again on his way out. Sylus figures the two of you need some time to yourselves, and if he sits back down, he’s afraid he won’t be able to get up. Wanting to take up the spot next to your sleeping form so badly, he forces himself to meet Xavier's eyes and say, “I’m going to head home… I’ll stop by in the morning.”

As Sylus leans down to kiss your cheek, Xavier's soft voice brings a wave of immense relief, “You can stay if you want.” Xavier’s eyes hold no malice for Sylus anymore. They’re just gentle pools of blue that burn bright once again. The corner of Sylus’s lip curls as he pulls his shirt back off and snuggles against you under the covers.

Xavier cuts the bedside lamp off, turning the room into a twinkling night sky of fairy lights before nestling in.

For the first time in weeks, you all fall easily into a deep, dreamless sleep, wrapped in each other’s comforting presence.

જ⁀➴°⋆ Three weeks later

Your morning wake-up call, in the form of burnt food, has two sources today. They stand in the kitchen, arguing over why the food is burnt in the first place. Sylus leans against the counter, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face as he watches Xavier become increasingly flustered.

“How did you do everything exactly as I instructed, yet still ruin the meal?” Sylus teases, his voice a deep, melodic taunt.

Xavier glares at him, pouting, “It’s not me. It’s your recipe's fault.” He tosses the food into the trash and hands Sylus the spatula. “I want strawberry pancakes,” he mumbles, grimacing when Sylus ruffles his hair.

Their warm smiles greet you as you enter, only to be met with your grumpy morning face. “I’ll just make you what he’s having, sweetie. I’m too scared to ask.” Sylus comments. You narrow your eyes at him as you start the coffee pot. “Stop talking to me before I’ve had my coffee,” you tell him for the millionth time.

Truth be told, though, it’s nice to wake up to this in the mornings… To wake up to them. You've been nearly inseparable for the past couple of weeks, with Sylus staying over most evenings. There was never a discussion about what would happen next after that night. It was just a silent agreement, a rhythm you all fell into, one as easy as breathing.

Xavier is surprisingly comfortable with Sylus’s new place in your lives, but whenever the two of you are alone, he likes to fuck you like he isn’t. Whispers of “mine” are chanted against your skin as he makes you take his cum over and over. He likes to tell you what a bad girl you’ve been, fucking you so hard you’re limping the next day.

A couple of days ago, Xavier ordered takeout for you and Sylus, offering you the night alone while he went to see a movie. Both of you stared at him in shock as he turned to Sylus and warned, “You know the rule. Break it, and you die.”

The following day, Xavier punished both of you, forcing you to edge each other to the point of tears while he watched. When it was almost over, Sylus was about to pull out, but Xavier grabbed his ass and pushed him deep inside you as Sylus’s cum filled you up. You’ve lost count of how many times Sylus has recreated that memory since then.

Honestly, you figure it’s only a matter of time before they ask for a night alone—a vision that makes your knees weak and stomach flutter. This all feels so surreal, like the most perfect dream you could imagine, one you’re sure to wake from at any moment. But it certainly feels real when Xavier wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close for a kiss.

You pull back slightly to see Sylus watching with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the same affection that makes your heart swell. The burnt food, the bickering, the tender touches—it’s all part of an intricate dance you’ve found yourselves in, one that feels more like home than anything else ever has.

Taking a sip of your now-ready coffee, Xavier’s hand finds yours as Sylus returns to the stove. As you watch them move around the kitchen, your heart brims with certainty. This isn’t a fleeting dream but your beautiful, messy reality. A future filled with shared laughter and endless mornings just like this one.

And so, you settle in for the day ahead, knowing that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together—burnt pancakes and all.

જ⁀➴°⋆ Requested bonus scene of Sylus and Mai ♡

The day has been long, but the night is young and serene. Its quietness offers a brief reprieve from the unease that’s plagued Sylus since the day you left with Xavier. Pale moonlight filters through the window, casting a gentle glow on Mai’s mahogany skin. Sylus traces his finger softly along her arm, meeting her deep amethyst gaze.

Her skin dewy from hours of lovemaking, she looks almost scared as she searches his face, her eyes darting nervously as if trying to memorize every detail. Sylus cups her cheek, his thumb brushing an unshed tear as he murmurs, “Talk to me, kitten. Let me help...”

Mai’s eyes cloud with guilt, haunted and regretful. She shuts them tightly before Sylus can truly grasp her turmoil. In a soft whisper, she confesses, “I did something, Sylus.”

Confusion overwhelms him as he lightly grips her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “And what exactly did you do?”

Tears begin to fill her eyes as she admits, “I… I slept with Zayne. And—and Rafayel.”

Sylus releases her and sits up in the bed, letting her words sink in. Resting his head on his knee, he breathes deeply and slowly, fighting the urge to put his fist through the wall.

In a broken whisper, he asks, “Why?”

Mai is now in full-blown tears, reaching out to Sylus, but he jerks away from her touch. “Xavier left, and they—they’re both seeing someone. I… I didn’t want them to leave me too…”

Anger and disbelief course through Sylus as he shoots her a withering look. “Is something wrong with the idea of them finding their own happiness, kitten? Everyone deserves that right. Who are you to decide for them?”

Hurt flashes in her eyes as she whispers, “You’ve always said that you don’t mind if I—”

Sylus cuts her off with a low growl. “I said I was up for sharing, kitten. I never intended for you to fuck them without me.”

Mai winces at the raw pain in Sylus’s voice, attempting to reach for him again. Allowing her to hold him close this time, she cradles his face, brushing away a tear as she murmurs, “I’m so sorry, Sylus. I promise it won’t ever happen again...”

He allows her to kiss him, their tongues dancing together, but his movements feel mechanical and forced. Fingers pressing into her hips, he gently pushes her back in a desperate search for space. Confusion flickers across her features as she clutches the comforter around her nervously.

He tries to reassure her, but his voice is too emotionless to be comforting. “I’m okay. I just need a minute.”

Quickly retreating to the bathroom, Sylus runs his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands as pain threatens to consume him. His mind drifts to you, and he realizes you’re the only one who can ease this ache. Your warm, comforting embrace seems to pull him in from miles away, filling him with the resolve to visit you tomorrow. The thought of seeing you is the only thing that gets him through the rest of the night with Mai.

Mai prods him about his feelings all night until Sylus is forced to ask her to give him some space and time to process. She respects this boundary and even gives him adequate breathing room, which he greatly appreciates. Despite her efforts, her touch makes him feel ill, like he’s become a repellent magnet. The TV, tuned to your favorite cooking show, helps keep him sane until he can see you again.

Unfamiliar feelings hit him once more, the need for you feeling different and much more potent than usual. Confusion fills him when his mind lingers on visions of you comforting him with more than just a hug. He’s touched you so many times that he can practically feel your skin beneath his hands as he closes his eyes, soaking in your image to calm the storm inside him. Guilt swims in him for getting so upset at Mai for cheating when all he can think about is you.

Mai’s soft voice breaks through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality with an agonizing jolt. “Want to go out and do something tomorrow? We could try out that new hiking trail,” she suggests, a hopeful gleam in her gaze as he reaches for his hand. Sylus stares at the ceiling, his voice void of emotion, “I’m going away on business. I’ll return in a few days.”

Her body stiffens, and she narrows her eyes. “It’s not for business… You’re going to see her again, aren’t you?” she accuses, anger filling her features. He turns to her with a bored look, “Is that a problem?”

Mai yanks her hand from his limp grip with a disbelieving shake of her head. “You desire her too…” she murmurs heatedly, searching for his reaction. Sylus sighs in frustration, his tone icy and bland, “Does it really matter after what you did?” When she snaps back with, “fuck you,” before walking away, Sylus plans to let her go.

As she makes it to her room, unaware that Mephisto is watching from the shadows, she mutters, “I should have taken care of the bitch myself.” His evol sneaks across the house, rearing up like an angry beast as it wraps around her, carrying her struggling form to drop before his feet. “Care to repeat that, kitten?” In all her lifetimes with Sylus, she’d never heard his voice hold such fury before.

While Sylus wields terrifying power and is feared across galaxies, Mai has never been afraid of him. But she certainly is right now, and Sylus revels in seeing her fear overtake her. “I’m assuming you didn’t consider how losing her might affect me?” he hisses.

“You’re immortal, Sylus. Inevitably, she’ll die, and you’ll lose her anyway. Really, I was saving you from her loss being so much worse down the road.” Her tone suggests she truly believes her words.

But it’s the carefree way she delivers them that irks Sylus. Suddenly unable to look at her, his feelings swarm in distress as his quiet voice fills the air. “This is the last time you’ll see me. Take care of yourself, kitten.” He cups her cheek and kisses her forehead before resting his against it. Tears stream down her cheeks as she stands still as a statue. Sylus breathes in her scent, though it no longer holds the comfort it used to. His heart shatters into pieces around him as he murmurs, “Get out.”

Luckily, Mai makes a hasty exit because moments later, Sylus’s fists litter the wall with holes as furious screams echo through the house. Furniture breaks, and glass shatters as agony consumes him. When the front door shuts behind Mai, the bond linking them pulls painfully tight before snapping. Sylus falls to the floor, his hands lying limp at his sides as the sound of him quietly crying fills the air.

He realizes suddenly that there’s no way he can let you see him like this. There’s no way he can be near you and not snap, knowing you withheld such vital information from him. Disgust swells as he remembers his moments of intimacy with Mai.

She tried to kill you, and he… How could you not tell him? You’ve been each other's confidant and sounding board for years. You tell each other everything.

Sylus doesn’t visit you for a while, choosing to communicate only by text. You notice his distance but don't pry, knowing he’ll open up when he’s ready. It takes a while for Sylus's anger to simmer down, and for him to process his feelings about Mai and you.

Part of the reason for staying away had been in a hopeless attempt to temper his feelings for you. The thought of ruining your friendship was unbearable. But the pull to you was compulsive, steadily chipping away at his resolve.

When he finally sees you walking toward him from across the bar, he’s surprised by how wildly his heart thumps and how badly he aches to hold you in his arms. He smiles at your exasperation as he presents you with another gift, much to your dismay. When you tease him about his singing skills, he decides he wants you to nag him about his lack of talent for the rest of the time.

“Ever heard of personal space, dove?” he teases, feeling strangely nervous about your sudden proximity. Though he’s hesitant, it’s so easy to wrap his arm around you and pull you close, letting your presence ease his sapped soul. For the first time in a long while, when your fingers entwine with his, Sylus feels a sense of hope and peace.

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