intertwined, sewn together

Now, it was her twisted words that would fill your head. Her taunts that would keep you awake at night, wondering what you could finally change about yourself to make you…different. Better. Enough.

You didn’t know when things had changed. If she’d changed or you had or maybe both of you at the same time.

Val had been your best friend until you were fourteen. Up until then, she had never given you any reason to think otherwise. You remembered how anxious you used to be when she was sick and away from school: who would be your partner in class? Who would play with you at recess?

You didn’t have anyone but Val. The other girls in the class knew that the two of you were attached at the hip, so they never really tried to make friends with either of you, although Val was so pretty that she often caught the attention of boys and girls in your class. They always wanted to talk to her, but she’d just leave them to talk with you. And if anyone tried to befriend you, well, Val had no problem making them feel so uncomfortable that they left the both of you alone to finish crafting your secret handshake.

Truth be told, it hadn’t bothered you much then. You only had Val, but Val filled your entire world with colour and the warmth of her hand in yours.

Then, something had changed. You and Val were put into different classes in high school, and no longer did she attach herself to your side.

Val thrived alone, with all the girls who wanted to be her friend and all the guys who were desperate to ask her out. You, not so much. You were awkward and hadn’t much practiced socializing with anyone but Val. You didn’t know how to make new friends. Boys were…well, they never looked at you, anyway, so you never had to investigate your own disinterest in them.

She still let you sit with her at lunch, but now she was surrounded by Serena and Layla and anyone else who managed to worm themselves into her graces that day. You usually just ate your food, while they talked at her, the pit in your stomach growing as she ignored you in favour of her new friends.

Still, sometimes she was Val and you were you. The two of you would still have sleepovers, sometimes, when she finally convinced her friends to stop bothering her about going to another party. You remembered the way it felt, to have her to yourself again, the two of you doing each other’s makeup, only now you weren’t seven.

It felt like coming home. Like waking up after a horrible nightmare where your best friend had slowly abandoned you.

Then Val had leaned down in the middle of applying your lipgloss and pressed her pillowy soft lips against your own. You remembered the way your heart had fluttered, both panicked and excited and it felt so good but then she was pulling away and she was laughing and the blood rushed to your cheeks when she teased you for “liking it so much” when she only wanted to practice for her future boyfriend.

The tears in your heart which had been slowly wearing away with every time she ignored your wave in the hallway or ditched you to get a ride home with her friends instead of walking back with you finally gave way to a huge crack. You wondered back then if it could ever be healed.

Now, you still weren’t sure.

If you loved Val a little less, maybe you wouldn’t have let her “practice” kissing with you any time she wanted. Maybe you wouldn’t have laughed off her jokes about you not needing the practice any time soon.

You still remembered the look on her face when you asked her why she didn’t just practice with Serena or Layla then. Because, she’d said, swallowing. You’d never seen her on the back foot before.

You wanted her to say it. To say it was because she didn’t want to. Because she wanted to do it with you. Because she wanted—

Instead, Val had said because you’re the only one pathetic enough to agree to it.

Even then, you hadn’t quit her. Even if she was using you, it felt so good when she kissed you and she smelled amazing and it was a few moments where you could forget that your best friend hated you.

Things stayed like that throughout high school, and now the two of you were in university. Sometimes you drifted apart, a week would go by where the only time you would hear from her was a short nod when you would see her sneaking back into her house from your bedroom window, but she never left you alone for too long. It hurt you to admit that there were times it felt nice not to worry about her picking apart your outfit or acne and laughing about it with her friends. That sometimes you hoped that she’d forget about you, even though it was you who opened the door for her every time she knocked.

Val never did get a boyfriend, but she did have a trail of guys who she entertained until she got bored. Most of them, you had no idea what she saw in them other than the fact that they were popular like her. It bothered you, sometimes, to think that a young Val never cared about things like that.

It bothered you that you had to wonder if that was the reason she grew so distant, why she kept you nearby but caged like a pet she was embarrassed to own.

Now, for the first time in years, the old Val seemed to rear her head, the two of you arguing in her new apartment when you were finished helping her move. It was one of those rare moments of genuine conversation where you finally told her about the new friends you’d made in your classes.

You saw the way her eyes narrowed, the same way they did when boys would push you off the playground or someone would ask to be your partner in class before she reached you. You didn’t even know why she cared. She barely paid you any attention now, and most of it was negative anyway. If you were such a burden, she should’ve been glad that someone else was sharing in her plight, but instead, she told you that you were going to stop talking to them immediately.

This was your first real fight. As in, the first time you ever had the courage to tell her no. You could see your own disbelief reflected back at you. It seemed that both of you were being confronted by the fact that the person they had grown up with had seemingly disappeared before their eyes and been replaced with something completely unfamiliar.

It was in that moment, that Val realized that she’d lost control. That the years of pushing you away, of making you feel small: they hadn’t stopped others from seeing how special you really were. They hadn’t stopped people from trying to take you away from her.

She’d thought—well, when you were split up she knew that it was only a matter of time till someone got their greedy hands on sweet little you. She couldn’t be around you all the time, couldn’t fight them off the way she wanted to. She couldn’t be your prince. No, the two of you were getting older and things had to change.

She loved you. She loved you so much that it terrified her what she would do if you went away. If you got a new best friend. Worse if you were someone’s lover. At first, Val hadn’t been willing to confront the thought of why you being someone’s girlfriend made her feel so lonely. It ached to think about, eating her up every night as she stayed awake in bed staring at the ceiling.

She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t be there but she had to stop it. She had to make you small, make you curl in on yourself until no one saw you. She had to spread rumours about you so no one would try to take you.

Then, she realized that you had eyes too. You could look at other people and you had legs that you could use to walk away from her. If you knew how much she liked you, maybe you would use them. You couldn’t know, you just couldn’t. If you thought that maybe she barely cared for you, maybe that would keep your eyes on her. You wouldn’t be scared away, no, you would be the one scared. Scared of losing her.

The thought of your fear, of you needing her, excited Val in a way that scared her all over again. When she saw how anxious you were as Val did your makeup, she couldn’t help but kiss you, even though she couldn’t even admit to herself that she was in love with you. All she could say in her head was that you were hers, and that was enough. Then, she had to come up with that stupid excuse of practicing kissing, as if she had anyone else she wanted to do this with.

She remembered that look on your face, when she called you pathetic. She’d seen that little girl again, the one who always cried so hard when she scrapped her knee until Val kissed it better. She’d wanted to stop, to tell you the truth, but you wouldn’t understand, she knew you wouldn’t.

It was hard for Val to face the truth, but she knew you weren’t crazy about her, not like she was with you. She knew you didn’t think about her every second of every day or wonder what she was doing or if she’d switched her shampoo or what she dreamed about. You didn’t wonder if she dreamed about you.

That was why she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t tell you how beautiful you were, and instead forced herself to criticize your clothes or whatever else she could bring herself to say. That was why she couldn’t cling to your side all the time, why she had to pretend you weren’t her best friend anymore.

You didn’t love her like she loved you. Maybe you didn’t even love her as a friend.

Now, she was losing control, and all her harsh words and the time she spent away from you was adding up to nothing but making you hate her. Now, Val didn’t know what to do.

You were doing what she had always feared. You were getting up and walking away from her.

Her hands twitched, looking at you across from her.

You didn’t know how she loved you. What she would do to keep you by her side.

It was only for a moment, as you sat on Lord Basilius’ lap while he greeted his fledgling, but you would have remembered if Ren had black and blue littering his pretty face. Ren’s mission had been a success too: that’s why you hadn’t been surprised when he turned up at your door. His sire had promised him your time, as a reward.

Now, Ren splayed himself on top of you, arms clinging to your hips as he buried his face against your abdomen. You stroked his fluffy red hair slowly, peering down at him. You weren’t sure what else you could do.

“Are you going to tell me what happened? Did you get into a fight with Seleucus?”

Ren’s face nuzzled into you, his nose poking your stomach. “No.”

“No, you won’t tell me, or no—”

“It wasn’t with Seleucus.”

You hesitated. It felt shameful to speak of the punishments they bore, the same ones that you evaded. “Was it Lord Basilius?”

Ren stiffened, green eyes finally raising to meet your own. One of them couldn’t open all the way because of the swelling. “Duran.”

“Duran? Ren, I don’t…what happened?”

“He attacked me.”

You tensed beneath him, thoughts turning to your other ‘companion.’ “That-that doesn’t sound like him. Why would he…are you sure there wasn’t some kind of—”

As you spoke, Ren sat up on his knees, and peered down at you with something unpleasant stirring in his light eyes. “He did. He hurt me, and now you’re defending him?”

Ren wasn’t very big or tall, but now, having his body on top of yours felt strangely suffocating, like a prey animal that fluffed up its tail enough to appear threatening. He usually reserved only his sweetest glances for you, but now his barely concealed anger bore down on you, like water finally slipping through the cracks.

“No, I wasn’t—I just don’t understand what happened. Ren I think you should get off—”

The vampire’s limbs straddled your hips, and instead of giving you space, he leaned forward to press your arms into the bed. Then, he bowed his head down to press himself close to you once again and whisper in your ear. “You always take his side. Never me. I’ve always been here, sticking up for you when the others wanted to kill you. Duran was the worst of them all. He wanted to do it just to get back at Lord Basilius, you know?”

You tried to reach a trapped hand to stroke his cheek, but he wouldn’t let you up. “Ren, please. Let’s just talk, okay?”

His breath was hot on your neck when he spoke. “I think I’m tired of talking, my love. Maybe you can show me how sorry you are another way…”

You sighed, and turned your head to the side. The vampire was quick to latch on to your throat, your thoughts melting away as he fed from you. It wasn’t painful, except for the beginning, but as you stared at the ceiling, you found that there wasn’t much you could focus on beyond stroking Ren’s hair.

You wanted to think about what you were going to say to him, about what he had said about Duran, but now everything seemed jumbled. Ren drank from you for a while, what felt like longer than usual, but time didn’t mean anything to you when you were being fed on, so perhaps you were mistaken.

By the time he released you, lapping stray red droplets from your neck in closing, you could hardly remember what had gotten you here in the first place.

Ren rolled off of you, then pulled you quickly into his arms, cuddling you like you were his favourite teddy bear.

Once your thoughts steadied, you finally spoke: “Will you please tell me what happened, honey?”

He liked it when you called him that. Ren stayed silent for a minute, and you thought he might have fallen asleep, but he stirred a moment later.

“He said I touched you where I wasn’t supposed to.”

Ren hadn’t really touched you anywhere, yet. At least, not what he made it sound like. You thought of how Duran had acted when he saw the light bruising on your thighs.

You pet Ren’s head as you spoke, and his arms tightened around you. “…I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ll talk to him, tell him you didn’t do anything.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, but you knew he wasn’t satisfied.

You weren’t sure he was wrong for it, either. Would Duran even listen?

You’d already told him in the moment, and he’d still hurt Ren anyway. Deep down, you knew there hadn’t been a mistake. The vampires were getting more antsy by the day, and it seemed you would be pulled apart in the aftermath. Still, your heart longed to placate your friend.

Ren was right, after all. He was always there for you. Even when he pushed you, needed you to coddle him.

“I’m sure he’ll come back to his senses in a few days and apologize. He’s probably just rilled up by his last mission. You understand that, right? You know…one day we’re gonna get out of here, Ren. You’ll come with us, won’t you?”

Ren’s grip loosened suddenly, and he turned to face you. “What do you mean? You’re leaving?”

You shrunk under his intense gaze. “Well, you can’t tell anyone, okay? But Duran and Elia want to leave, and I think they might take me. Not for a while, but—”

Your words provoked something frantic in Ren, his eyes wide and wild as he spoke. “No, you can’t—you know you can’t leave, my love, it’s not right. I won’t let them take you.”

“Honey, it’s okay…” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek, but at the last moment, Ren turned his head and pressed his lips to yours.

He suddenly moved his knees to straddle your hips, and continued to smother your lips with his own. You pushed gently at his chest, but Ren would not break the kiss, his lips moving against your own as though you would slip away at any moment.

You didn’t know what to think about it, but Ren didn’t give you much time to consider anything except how to placate him.

Finally, he pulled away, and you tried to speak even as you felt out of breath. “You—you could come with us, honey, please…”

Ren narrowed his eyes, his voice quiet as he spoke. “I’m your first. Your first friend. I should be the one who gets to fuck you first. It’s only right. When we do this, my love, you’ll realize that you never want to leave me. I’m the only one you need.”

Ren’s hips grinded against your own a moment later, and your body reacted even as your mind urged you to stop him.

“Are you,” the thoughts spun in your head along with the sound of your own heartbeat, “are you asking me or telling me?”

Ren stared at you with those big, green eyes. They didn’t seem to sparkle the same way as before. Maybe they never had. “Lord Basilius promised you to me, my love…but if you want to disappoint him…”

Your eyes shut at his words.

Ren used to be so sweet, when you first arrived. No one cared to talk to you, except for him. You still remembered that gentle smile, the way he intertwined your hands when he could sense how scared you were.

You used to think it was because he was kind, but maybe he’d just been lonely all along. The last time you asked Ren about his life before he’d been taken in by Basilius, he’d only scrunched his nose and shrugged, unable to recall even his parents. The other spawn tolerated him at best, detested him at worst. Lord Basilius thought of him as weak.

You were there. Was that all there was to it?

As he kissed down your neck and across your breasts, you wondered if he really cared about you. He took his time exploring your body, and you hated that part of you loved it because part of you loved him.

Ren always had a way of tugging on your heartstrings, even when he was ripping them out.

Once he finished undressing you, carefully peeling away each layer like you were something to be cherished, Ren returned to your lips. His kiss was soft and needy, gentle but always demanding more. As he enjoyed your lips, one of Ren’s hands slipped down beneath your bodies to play with your clit, rubbing it in firm but gentle motions.

He smiled against your lips when your hips bucked toward his hand. When he pulled away from your lips, he slipped his fingers down to tease your entrance. “So wet already, my love? I knew you needed me as bad as I needed you. I wish I could taste you, but I don’t think either of us can wait. Next time, then.”

You only stared at him, your mind hazy with need and blood loss.

Ren paused only to undress himself, and then he was back on you, his hard cock pressing between your thighs. He stroked it a couple times, smearing your slick onto himself, before he lined himself up.

Ren held your hand and smiled at you, that same smile from the very first day, as he pushed into you for the first time. You closed your eyes as he filled you, letting yourself cling to him even as you knew it would only feed this mania he’d been drawn into.

He started slow, but soon picked up speed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as his thrusts became more frantic. You felt your orgasm building as he humped at your cunt and he stared at you with adoration in his eyes.

In that moment, you forgot all about whether or not Ren loved you or whether this was right or what Duran or any of the others would think. All you could think about was the feeling of his cock inside of you, the pleasure stirring in your gut, and the lovesick man who was so eager to have you.

You came only a few seconds before he did, losing yourself as he came inside of you.

Ren collapsed on top of you. He wrapped his arms around you, murmured his love for you, and promptly fell asleep, leaving you to consider the ramifications of what the hell had just happened.

You fell asleep with a hand in his hair, his cum leaking from your cunt, and a strange fear stirring in your heart about what he was becoming.

I would say there are definitely restrictions, but unfortunately for reader, nothing is ever explicitly stated, so either you try your best to infer the rules or you figure them out by getting in trouble.

The main thing that’s importance is obedience. If Lord Basilius tells you to sit on his lap, or let him feed on you, or go be the ‘reward’ for his spawn, you better do it without a word of complaint. No leaving the castle, no saying no, no fuss, etc.

Everything non-explicitly said is pretty much a grey area, and a lot is just based on how Lord Basilius is feeling at the time. Some days you can get away with a lot, others you can’t. For example, he expects his pet to greet him enthusiastically on the rare times he’s been away from the castle for a while and returns, but depending on his mood, it will either be a lighthearted scolding or a chilling anger.

As long as reader is genuinely obedient, Basilius wouldn’t have a problem with them wandering the castle, for example, as long as they come when called. They must always prioritize the vampires, but when they are alone, their time is their own (although they don’t have a lot of it). Something not forbidden but discouraged would just be behaviours which are not exactly “defiant” but still not demonstrating complete obedience, such as seeming resistant to their touches or bites, or showing hesitation to comply or a desire to leave.

The vampire spawn are different to Lord Basilius in terms of what they expect from reader, but they’re also much less able to exert their control over the reader and each other. Most of them (except for Seleucus), in most cases, wouldn’t snitch on reader for doing something disobedient like expressing dislike for Lord Basilius, except if it also contradicted their own interests and they wanted to use Basilius to punish the reader. I don’t want to say too much more, because this will come up as I write more of the story.

Anyway, most of the time, the vampire spawn aren’t involved in the punishments. Most of them wouldn’t want to be, because they don’t want reader to associate them with that (even if they were literally the ones to get them in trouble in the first place lol). The exception, again, would probably be Seleucus, who might volunteer to help Lord Basilius with punishments.

Reader is pretty obedient in the story, so they haven’t been punished more heavily than being locked in their room for a few hours, but I could definitely imagine some more sinister punishments that Lord Basilius could come up with. There’s kinda two factors that play into this (1) reader is human so they can’t take that much harm (compared to the spawn) and (2) at a certain point, Basilius might decide that getting rid of reader is better than having to deal with trying to “train” them.

I’m not saying he necessarily would do this, because he has become attached to his pet at this point, but if they had been extremely disobedient from the start, this might have been something he considered. Lighter punishments probably include having multiple vampires feed on them in quick succession without the usual considerations for their comfort, being physically restrained for long periods of time, being treated extremely coldly or being degraded instead of being treated like a beloved pet.

I love the yandere question. Definitely something I’m looking to explore/develop in the next few parts (each character will have their own, either Elia or Ren will be next). Yes, all of them have varying degrees of yandere traits that show up differently and how much they can control themselves definitely depends on reader’s behaviour. As I’ve written them thus far is really only the very beginning of their attachment to reader, so you haven’t seen much yandere behaviour from them (this will change).

I’ll say, the most traditionally yandere of them is probably Ren, with Duran, Helena, Seleucus falling somewhere in the middle, and the least being Elia (at least for now). Lord Basilius has a secret third thing going on, which I don’t want to give away too soon.

To give you a taste of their yandere flavours, Ren is extremely possessive and clingy, Helena is obsessive and intense (a bit hard to capture succinctly), Duran is possessive and “protective” (infantilizing), Seleucus is harsh and strict with a love/hate type obsession, Elia can be possessive (but her yandere urges usually only arise in specific circumstances). Their yandere traits definitely show up more (1) as they become more attached and (2) as they begin to believe reader might slip away from them.

Definitely not a unified approach. We haven’t seen too much of their interactions yet, but while in some senses they understand each other to be “family,” in a lot of ways it’s everyone for themselves. Duran and Elia are the exception, of course. Ren gets along with most of them, but has no ties greater to any of them than to reader. Seleucus is apathetic to most of them and vice versa. Everyone thinks Helena is strange.

None of them really like Lord Basilius, but he is the one thing that stops them from truly fighting over anything (like reader). None of them can stop the others from having reader, for example, because reader belongs to Lord Basilius first. They also can’t force reader or the others to really do too much (unless it’s by Basilius’ orders). They’re also in agreement on keeping reader alive and with them. However, most of them would strongly prefer to have reader to themselves, so there’s a natural tension because of that. Also, some of them dislike how the others treat reader (Duran/Elia/Ren all dislike how rough Seleucus is with reader).

As for more freedom and trust…it’s an uphill battle for sure. I guess it depends what you mean. Reader will never be able to leave the castle. Some of them afford the reader more autonomy, but most of them want reader and will coerce them if that’s what it takes to be able to have and hold them. In fact, this would only get worse as they become more obsessed. It would be a lot harder for some of them to control their desires/behaviour around reader or to respect their wishes.

As of right now (again this might change as time progresses), day to day reader isn’t being harshly punished or forced to do anything too bad. Some of them insist on affection, and most treat reader nicely (except for Seleucus). They also try to keep the “mask” on for the most part, because they want reader to genuinely like them, so they won’t show off their worst parts as long as they can control themselves. The control they exert is mostly psychological and manipulative by using either their affection/bond with reader or the looming threat of Lord Basilius.

In terms of outside support like a psychiatrist or therapist, he probably wouldn’t allow it since he doesn’t want you having contact with anyone else. If things got really bad, he might pay off a corrupt doctor to come to his place, but it probably wouldn’t be much comfort or do much more than keep you alive or relatively functioning.

I think he’d have a hard time with something he can perceive as rejection, like depression or anxiety. It’s part of his contradictory mind of wanting you to be entirely submissive to him, but also not so afraid of him that you can’t just act normal around him like you sort of used to. So, he might perceive a general lack of interest or apathy about your life (with him) as being caused by him (whether or not this was something you struggled with before you even met).

He’d also get annoyed about you being overly anxious toward him, even if, strictly speaking, it makes perfect sense. If you’re anxious more broadly, like having social anxiety or a separation disorder, he would handle that better (ish). He’d probably weaponize it against you in the sense of trying to make you more afraid of the outside world and more dependent on him. But, he wouldn’t feel “threatened” by it, so he wouldn’t be angry with you if you were displaying symptoms.

Then, like you said, everyone from the crash is brought back together again and learns about this girl who is so clearly the daughter of their mutual obsession, and it brings back memories which are already returning by all of them coming together again. Not to mention the confusion of realizing that this person all of them have been secretly longing for for years is now dead and none of them ever had a chance to confront both their attachment and their guilt about the situation.

The one who has raised the daughter all this time would be extremely protective over her, realizing the crazy things they have all done to her mother and worrying about how they might react to her daughter.

They would be right to worry, too, because I think everyone would want to cling to the daughter, almost to pretend that she’s their kid with their previous obsession, even if she’s clearly not. The daughter would be cherished and almost revered, because of how they viewed her mother as a source of salvation, in a way that would probably freak her out a lot. Even more than that, they would ignore her rejection of them as parents or people trying to be part of her life in general, especially after she finds out what they did to her mother and what she’s the product of.

He won’t ever be kind or complimenting, but if he started to feel comfortable enough (like if he thought that you actually liked him back), his actions would show his softness and the affection he craves more than his words. For example, he would get a lot more interested in non-sexual physical intimacy, like sleeping beside each other at night.

I didn’t end up writing the sex scene at the end of the fic, because I liked ending it there, but that meant I didn’t get to show one of the developments in Cato’s behaviour, which is that he actually tries to make sex good for the reader for once lmao. He’d see it as “humiliating” them by making them come for someone they claim to hate (while simultaneously validating his ego that you do actually secretly like him).

With a crybaby reader, I think at first he would find them very irritating, because he sees emotions as a weakness, but once he got to know them a bit and his obsession started to take hold, he would secretly love it. He loves getting reactions out of you, whether they be positive or negative, so he’d have fun with it.

He landed on the balcony and turned you to face the ledge. You couldn’t even see the ground from here, the tall trees blocking your view. The forest engulfed his home, and you doubted anyone could reach this place except for him

“Two options,” Golden Wind told you, with the same smile he always put on in front of the cameras. “You see, it’s hard to get dates as a hero. Well, not hard to get them, but hard to get them to shut up about it. They ask for my attention and time…Me, I prefer to just deal with my appetites and be done with it.”

He stood beside you, hands on the railing. His smile didn’t drop as he continued, but when he turned to face you, you could see the disgust bleeding through his facade. “I figure a low life like you would understand that. You know you don’t deserve the hassle of respect. I think that makes you perfect for me, baby. You can think of it like community service…helping a hero do his job by serving as a fleshlight. But if you prefer jail, that’s fine, too. I never get tired of seeing the look on people’s faces as they get put away.”

He looked down at you then and knew within a single glance what you would choose. Maybe he’d known since he saw you in that store, cash stashed in your pocket and ready to make a break for it.

You were a survivor, and you were willing to do what it took to survive, even if it meant becoming this jerk’s sex toy. He said it like the arrangement was temporary: serve your time and get out. Maybe he even meant it, back then.

That was the start of your new life. He would be out of the house often, but as soon as he returned, he’d have you face down and ass up on his bed or desk or in the shower. He’d walk away when he was finished, and leave you alone unless he was feeling extra pent up, in which case he’d go for another round or two before he slept.

Mostly, he just ignored you.

As far as punishments went, you could’ve done worse. A hero’s house was sure to be grand, but his was almost revoltingly nice. He had ten guest rooms that no one ever slept in, so you picked a new one each night. He had two kitchens, one on each floor, which were somehow always stocked with more food than he could ever eat. You figured he must get deliveries, although there weren’t any visible paths toward the city as far as you could tell.

You weren’t really able to leave, given the only way out seemed to be flight, but that was neither here nor there. The truth was, you had gotten tired of living a life of always looking over your shoulder. If you had to let a pretty hero fuck you, that was a worthy trade, even if he was an asshole about it.

If things had stayed that way, maybe you could have dealt with it. Sex was inconsequential; you had done worse for less before.

In the early days, you could almost forget he existed, save for when he made use of you. Even then, you could pretend it was your celebrity crush fucking you, or your hot neighbour, or whoever made you feel like less of a whore.

He never got you off, anyway, so you could file it away in your mind as just another thing you had to deal with. It was better than jail. It was better than the streets.

But even you started to feel lonely, stuck in his home all day. Even more than that, it became exhausting to avoid him all the time.

Normally, when he came into the kitchen, you’d scurry off to eat somewhere else. For once, you decided to just stay there, eating quietly at the dining table as he walked in and started making his own food.

You almost laughed when you saw he was preparing the same thing that you were eating. “Didn’t know a hero could sustain that physique on ramen…”

His eyes shot to you when you spoke, surprise fluttering within them. He must really have his guard down at home for him not to have noticed you. He registered your comment with narrow eyes and his usual fake grin. “Think I should look as bad as you, huh?”

You frowned, and that made him laugh.

“Kidding,” he said. “You’re so sensitive. Your body is the best thing about you, baby.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. Heaven forbid you try to make small talk with this psycho as your conversation partner. You gave up after that, moping into your ramen and hoping he went away.

Instead, he sat down at the other head of the table, giving you a cheeky wink when he caught you watching him. It was literally as far from you as he could get, but he was still sitting with you, technically.

You sat together in silence, both slurping your ramen, until you remembered something you’d been wanting to ask him. “Hey, what’s your name?”

He looked at you like you were an idiot. “I know your education was poor, but surely even you know the name Golden Wind.”

Talking to him truly felt like self-punishment. “Not your stupid hero epithet. Your name.”

He paused for a moment at your question, then his lip curled. “That, is none of your business. Mind your mouth, scum.”

“Whatever.” You got up to wash your bowl, before leaving him behind without another word.

You never knew what to expect with him. He’d go from joking to threats in a matter of seconds. At least the insults were consistent.

The jerk hadn’t even asked your name. It was surprisingly easy to avoid using, considering there was only ever the two of you here, and he made do with degrading terms for you.

He often spoke to you like that. Like you were the scum on his shoe or a plague on the world. Less than human. A thief turned whore. Never mind that he was the one who made you into this.

Once you gave up on avoiding him altogether, the two of you ended up spending more time together. Or rather, co-existing in the same space and exchanging occasional snippets of conversation that ended in him insulting you, and you regretting having tried to speak to him like an acquaintance. You didn’t know what was worse: when he called you scum and fled to his room, or when he decided he wanted to fuck you.

It wasn’t so bad when you watched a movie, because then he would take you on the couch, and you could keep watching the screen. It was annoying when he did it after dinner, the harsh edge of the kitchen table digging into your side as his thrusts pushed you against it.

You learned a little bit about him, and it pissed you off, because he was actually kind of normal, for being such an asshole.

He liked the same kind of ramen as you, but he couldn’t tolerate a lot of spice. You noticed because he never accepted your offer of leftovers if you added chili oil.

He drank his coffee with enough sugar and cream that it should have qualified as a milkshake. He liked to read, mostly fantasy and epics, and when you talked about a book you both liked, he’d forget to insult you for a few minutes. He hated reality television, except for one show about a cat rescue, so if you could tell he was in a bad mood, you'd put it on in the background.

He liked watching the first minute of news about himself, but he’d turn it off and mope if it played too long. He hated when you brought up anything even semi-related to his childhood.

Not always, but sometimes, if you asked him a question about himself, he had enough manners to reply with a “You?” and he wouldn’t tell you to shut up or say that no one cared what trash like you had to say.

He wasn’t the most selfless conversationalist, but you had admit, it was better than the first month of never talking to anyone. You wondered how he dealt with it. Sure, he went out during the day, but you were pretty sure he did more flying than fervent conversation.

“I don’t need anyone’s company, except my own,” he said. “Especially not that of trash like yourself.”

By now, you were used to his insults, and his heart didn’t really seem in it this time. “Yeah, whatever, I get it, you’re special. I was just trying to say, I would get lonely if I stayed here all the time. As much as they can suck…I miss people, sometimes.”

He returned to his book, and the conversation died there.

It was a few weeks later that you finally cracked and asked (more like begged) him if you could leave, just for the chance to visit your favourite restaurant or corner store or something other than the white walls of his house.

He scoffed at you and insisted you’d run away. Not that he’d have trouble catching you, but it was the principle of it, and Golden Wind wasn’t going to be seen alongside a degenerate criminal like you, even if it was just as a chaperone. What would the tabloids say?

For some reason, this time his words stung with a newfound force. Your whole life, you had dealt with people whispering things behind your back as you passed or yelling that you were trouble to your face.

You liked to think it didn’t bother you anymore, but when the only person you’d spoken even a word to in months described the shame of being associated with you with such venom, you finally broke down and began to cry.

He stood there, blinking, and then he scoffed and walked away, leaving you alone for the rest of the night.

He was gone for three or four days after that; time meant practically nothing to you anymore. Based on what you saw on the news, there seemed to be some natural disasters along the coast, and Golden Wind needed to help with search and rescue.

It was irritating watching him smile at the camera. You threw popcorn at the TV when he came on screen. All the men and women swooning in the audience, as though he was actually the hero they thought he was. You bet they’d beg to switch places with you.

Little did they know, you thought. He wasn’t even a good lay. What a shame. At least he was a pretty face.

You’d fallen asleep organizing one of the walk-in closets, simultaneously bored and exhausted, when he finally came home. That was why you hadn’t heard him searching the rooms, calling out at first with a roguish laugh that he’d misplaced his fleshlight, and later shouting with a greater volume and edge in his voice for his whore to come out.

By the time the noise woke you, he’d already trashed three of the guest rooms looking for you.

He fucked you there, on the floor of the closet, your cheek pressed roughly against the carpet. He was meaner this time. Usually, he didn’t talk much, just treated you like he was just using a real toy. Sometimes he liked to call you a slut, but now every other word out of his mouth was some way of degrading you.

Lowlife whore, toy, worthless slut, good for nothing but being his cumdump.

He went for a second round, immediately after, in the guest room. He had you on your back this time, your body sinking into his soft mattress. Normally, he took you from behind, but now, you couldn’t ignore how he stared at you, purple eyes watching your face as he thrust himself in and out of your cunt.

He seemed more and more frustrated when you mirrored the apathy on his face. Neither of you made much noise; you, because he never did anything to pleasure you, and him, well, you assumed he preferred to keep his feelings to himself.

Golden Wind treated sex like another chore he was subject to because of his mortal body, as annoying as eating or sleeping. But now, his sharp eyes found your own, and you saw something within them. More than boredom, more than pleasure: he was watching you like prey.

Excited. Thrilled. Eager to go for the kill.

You were prey he’d already gotten his hands on, and now didn’t know quite what to do with.

“Say my name,” he groaned, tugging on your hair. Not yet painful, but teetering on the edge. You were surprised he even knew how to be gentle enough to not rip it out of your scalp.

He’d never asked you to speak before. “Golden Wind.”

He pulled your hair harder this time. “Say my name,” he said. “Call me Cato.”

You stated at him then, like you were meeting for the first time, taking in the silvery-blond hair falling onto your shoulders from where he hovered above you. “Cato.”

You should have known, then, that things were changing, but you hadn’t had a clue.

He picked up his speed and continued to hump at your cunt until he spilled his seed into you, crying out your name. You didn’t have the courage, then, to ask how he even knew it.

He usually walked away as soon as he pulled himself free, but this time, he lingered as he pulled his pants back on. You laid on the bed, eyes closed, body aching, and wanting nothing more than for him to leave.

Instead, you felt fingers gently spread your folds, and raised your head to watch him watch his cum drip from your pussy.

He’d met your gaze on the way out, and the look in his eyes was different than before. There was the lingering disgust, but something else burned in there as well. Something passionate, but not anything of the loving sort. It was more like hatred.

Before, he’d scowled at you with apathy, if he acknowledged you at all. Now, there was an intensity when he stared at you. He felt something toward you, and you were sure it wasn’t anything good. He looked at you like you were a problem that finally needed to be dealt with.

Naively, you had thought this meant that perhaps he was tired of you, that he would finally let you go and find some new thing to play with.

Instead, Cato began spending more time at home. Watching you instead of the TV. Glaring at you while you sat across from him at dinner.

He fucked you more often, but talked to you less. That didn’t mean you saw less of him. No, he was always there, always hovering around you. Said he didn’t trust you, scum like you were always up to something.

You didn’t know what you could possibly be up to in his house in the middle of nowhere, but he persisted regardless. You heard him, sometimes, on the phone with his manager or whoever bossed him around. You didn’t imagine heroes got much time off, but Golden Wind had apparently not cared what happened in his absence.

It wasn’t much of a surprise to you that Cato didn’t care about people like his hero persona pretended to, but it was still shocking sometimes when he’d ignore calls, and you’d see the fallout on the news at night. But, you didn’t exactly feel like you had too much room to judge him.

You were no killer, but you were certainly no saint, and he so often liked to remind you that you wouldn’t be in this situation if you had kept your hands out of other people’s wallets.

You wanted to tell him that he didn't know you. That he didn't know your life or your family or all the terrible things that had happened to you. But then again, you didn't know him either. Maybe he'd faced the same things. Maybe worse. Did it matter?

You were still here, and so was he. Your vice was cowardice, and his was cruelty. But if you could overcome yours, part of you hoped he could as well.

That was how you worked up the courage to finally ask him when your sentence would be up. You waited until after he came inside you, the warmth of his chest still lingering on your back as he caught his breath.

“Cato…”

He hummed in response, barely paying attention. You suspected he might’ve just ignored you, had the sex not put him in a good mood. It was what you were counting on, in fact.

“It’s been fourteen months.”

“What?” he said, still slightly disoriented. His long hair fell around you like a curtain, but you couldn’t see his face to tell what he was thinking. Normally, you’d gage his mood before asking for something, but this had been weighing on you so long, you couldn’t help but blurt it out.

“That’s the normal sentence for theft. Fourteen months.”

He stiffened against you, not letting you up. His hair tickled your cheek as he moved. “And?”

You couldn’t read his tone. Genuine or mocking…the latter was more his speed, but you’d already gone this far. You stared at the sheets as you spoke, gripping them in your hands.

“When are you going to let me go?”

A few seconds after you spoke, his chest lost its stiffness and began to shake. Slowly, at first, until he finally burst into full body laughter. “I don’t know, baby. I’ve gotten used to having a fleshlight at home. Don’t know if I can go without it anymore.”

You tried to turn around then, struggling against the cage that was his muscular arms, but he only wrapped one around your waist and pulled you into his chest. With your back against him, he forced you to look at the wall, not even giving you the dignity of facing him. Tears gathered in your eyes, so you shut them and forced yourself not to cry.

“You said…you said this was community service. I played my part and fucked you, like you asked.”

“Hmm…you did. But I don’t care.” Cato said it like you were asking him for a favour.

The next words came out angrier than you had ever dared be with him. “Aren’t you a fucking hero? You won’t even honour your own fucking deal?”

He flipped you faster than you could blink, shoving you so you landed on your back, once again on the bed. You tried to stand but he only crawled on after you, pining down your arms with ease. Cato wasn’t smiling when he spoke, and his purple eyes sparkled with disdain. It reminded you of the very first time you had met.

“You’re mine,” he said, slowly. “My toy. My whore. Mine to fuck and mine to do whatever I want with. You forfeited your rights when you stole that money, baby.”

“Cato, please—”

“I was considering you a foster, but I think I want to make you my permanent pet. I guess the better word would be cumdump or whore. You like it when your master calls you those sweet words, gives your otherwise worthless life meaning, doesn’t it? You like being my dumb little pet?”

The tears overflowed as you failed your test of bravery. “I want to go home.”

His playful tone dissipated as he stared at you. “This is your home, you stupid whore. I’m your home. I’m all you have. You think anyone wants to see your face out there? No, I’m doing the world a service by keeping you away from them. Here, you have something you’re actually good at. Taking my cock.”

You tried to push your arms up, to get him off of you, but they didn’t move an inch under his grip. “You can’t keep me here, I—”

He laughed again, but it was hollow. His hold on you became painful. “I’m Golden Wind. Not some foolish lover boy. I can do whatever the hell I want.”

“Fuck you. I—I’m not going to give up, I’ll leave when you’re not here.”

Cato picked you up then, and carried you across his home as you struggled futilely against him. He ignored you hitting him on the back. You wondered if he even felt it.

“Stop, what the fuck are you doing?”

He ignored you, until he opened the door and reached the balcony. It was the very same one you’d had your first conversation on. Where all this had started. Before he fucked you. Before you knew him. Before he decided not to let you go.

Cato turned you to face the railing, both his arms holding it and boxing you in so you had no choice but to face the expanse of trees, so far below you.

He spoke more calmly now than he had the whole argument. “Two options. It’s me or jumping from the tower. Tell you what, if you make it, you can leave.”

He held your neck in a painful grip as he forced you to stare at the ground. It was a long way down.

“Hmm? What’ll it be, baby?”

There’d be no way to survive.

“…I’ll stay here,” you conceded meekly. There was no other choice.

“I knew you’d make the right choice, pet. You’re not a complete idiot, after all. Now bend over, my sweet whore,” he said forcing your upper body slightly over the railing so he could push your ass up.

“What the fuck, I said I’d stay! Shit, I’m gonna—”