sumtheamazinglysickauthor

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Killer's Case of Baby Fever - A Cain Fic

Warning: Suggestive ending (nothing explicit) ---

Cain never understood people with “baby fever.”

Never got how someone could want a kid that badly.

A kid was just another mouth, not oxygen. Nobody actually needed one.

Boy, would this man eat his words.

Because then he found you.

And despite everything— no matter how much he denies it— you managed to change him just a bit. Just enough to make him want things— feel things— he’d never imagine. Things he’d made fun of in the past.

Like right now.

Right now, where he was really starting to want a child with you.

It was driving him insane.

It all started when Reginald— your father, his father-in-law— showed him pictures of you as a baby.

Cain wasn’t sure what was worse— Reginald flipping through those old photo albums with a stupidly proud grin, or the fact that Cain didn’t hate it. He wanted to. He wanted to roll his eyes, scoff, maybe toss in a jab about how obviously you looked like a tiny gremlin, and wasn’t it a miracle you grew into someone so damn gorgeous even halfway decent-looking.

But look at cute, sweet little you.

He sat quietly, watching. Watching you, in your ridiculous baby clothes, clutching some toy like it was your whole world. Your eyes still had that same spark— just smaller, rounder, softer.

And damn it all if something in his chest didn’t twist.

Cain didn’t just see you.

He saw pieces of you he missed.

But what if he could be there for it?

Not your past, no. That was gone. But the future.

A future where some little brat with your eyes and maybe his grin ran through the halls, tugged at your sleeve, reached for him with those small, stubborn little hands.

The image hit hard.

Cain Montgomery. Imagining fatherhood. Unbelievable.

He had never thought about kids— not after his own childhood.

Cain wasn’t the kind of man who got to want soft things. He wasn’t the kind of man who thought he even deserved to.

And he didn’t want to be a father like stupid William.

But watching Reginald beam at those old photos of you, Cain felt that ugly, dangerous ache in his chest.

Because maybe— just maybe— he could be something different.

Not your father. Not his.

Not William.

Something better.

But he shrugged it off. Tried burying the feeling.

But then you just had to go smile at some stranger’s kid. Soft voice, warm grin, the kind of smile Cain had never once seen directed at him in that way.

And he wanted to be the reason you smiled like that. Wanted to be the man standing next to you when some tiny, stubborn thing called you mama and looked up at him like he hung the stars.

He knew you wanted one. You’d talked about it here and there, subtly. Because you didn’t know if it was what he wanted. He noticed that. Of course he did.

And now it was stuck in his brain.

For a damn murderer, he couldn’t seem to kill this thought.

He’d look at you, imagining how you’d look carrying his child. You having his child.

Why the hell was that making him feel things?

He’d catch himself staring at your pretty little fingers and wonder how they’d look cradling a baby’s cheek. He’d picture you half-asleep with a little child pressed against your chest, both of you breathing in soft little sighs. He’d imagine a laugh that wasn’t yours or his filling the house.

And it was driving him insane.

And after a long while of the universe torturing him with signs, he finally told you.

He waited. Not long, just long enough for his chest to stop hammering against his ribs, long enough for him to make sure the words would land exactly right.

“I want a kid with you.”

Your eyes went wide. “…What?”

You looked at him, not knowing whether he was being sarcastic or not. You waited for the punchline.

It never came.

It’s true that Cain was always direct about what he wanted.

But Cain Montgomery wanted a kid? Already?

Cain’s jaw tightened. He held your gaze, chest still hammering, as if he had to will the words into existence. “I’m serious,” he said, voice low, steady— too steady—l ike he was daring you to question him.

You blinked, heart thudding in disbelief. “I… I—”

He held up a hand, cutting you off before your brain could spiral. “No, listen. Don’t freak out. I’m not asking tomorrow. Not even next week. I just… I want this. I want us to have this. Only if you want it too. If you don’t, I don’t.”

You looked at him. “Cain, if you’re doing this because of me—”

He leaned forward, eyes hard, voice low and razor-sharp. “I don’t do things I don’t want, sweetheart.. Ever. You should know that by now.”

“…You’re serious,” you whispered, more to yourself than him.

“Didn’t I just say that?”

You swallowed hard, heat climbing your chest. “…You’d really want that? With me?”

Cain’s eyes bored into yours, as if daring you to look away. “Who the hell else would I want it with, Mrs Montgomery?”

You blinked, flustered.

“Okay, yeah. Sure.”

You didn’t know how else to put it. What were couples even supposed to do after this talk?

Cain’s eyes narrowed. “…That’s all you’ve got?”

You raised your brow “What else am I supposed to say? ‘Yes, Cain, please breed me. Let me have your child.’”

He leaned back a little, s smug grin forming on his lips. “Much better.” and then mutters, “I tell you I want to knock you up, and you hit me with okay.”

“Alright you ruined the moment. Get out.”

“No.” his grin sharpened. “You get in the damn forsaken bed so I can put a little brat in you like my mind’s been torturing me to for the last few months.”

“Months?”

“Months, sweetheart. I just needed to confirm and know how you felt about it.”

“How respectful.” you tease, hiding the geniune adoration.

And before you could think, you were being carried and tossed over his shoulder,

“Tsk always have sooo much to say, don’t you brat?” he chuckled low, smacking your behind before putting you down on the bed gently, “Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance to be very loud, sweetheart. We’ll see where all those words go when I’m breeding our kid into you, yeah?”

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Stalking You - A Cain Fic

You didn’t know why you were doing this. It was stupid, really.

Very stupid.

Right now, you should be home. Messing with, watching TV, hell— even staring at the wall would’ve been a better idea. Yet hear you were. Lurking a few steps behind Cain like some wannabe detective, hoping he wouldn’t turn around and catch you in the act. 

And you judged Emily for stalking Abel. To be fair, you could hardly call this stalking. A wife must look after her husband, right?

And he hadn’t seen you so far, that should be a good sign, right?

And it’s not your fault he didn’t tell you where exactly he was going. What if he needed backup? Riiight. ‘Cause you’d be good backup. What if some girl started to hit on him? And if she got a little too close? You need to teach her the definition personal boundaries. You tightened your grip on your bag strap like that would somehow make your footsteps quieter. Every time he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, you leaned back, heart hammering like he knew you were there and was just pretending not to. But he didn’t. Probably not. If he did, he’d confront you about it. Right? But Cain didn’t slow down, didn’t look over his shoulder. Just kept walking, shoulders squared, head tilted ever so slightly down like the world should apologize to him for existing.

Every little sound sharpened, felt louder— the crunch of gravel under your shoes, the squeak of a loose streetlamp wire, the stupid pigeon that decided to coo just as you were trying to blend into the shadows. It was like the whole world was out to get you caught. See, world? This is why Cain gives you that look.

Cain, though, didn’t look back.

Not once. And that felt worse. - You ducked behind a parked car when he paused at the corner, pretending to fumble with your phone like you belonged there. Totally casual. Normal people leaned against bumpers at night, scrolling through nothing. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears. He adjusted his collar, looked one way down the street… then the other.

And then he kept walking. This was definitely a stupid idea. Probably not even worth it. Why do you do these things to yourself again? You blew out a shaky breath and crept after him, this time leaving a little more distance between you. Not too far, though— you couldn’t lose him.

Except… when you turned the corner, the street stretched empty.

Your stomach plummeted.

Cain was gone. “Oh no, no, no, no…” you whispered, spinning in place like an amateur. This could not be happening. Was all of this just for nothing? You lost Cain. How could you be so stupid? You whipped your head left, then right. Maybe he’d just magically appear. Except, he didn’t. Not even a shadow moving in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Seriously?” you hissed under your breath, clutching your bag strap tighter. “Where the hell—” “Lose something?” You froze. That voice. Smooth. Low. Way too close. One you’d recognize no matter what. Oh no. Gulp. Your whole body went stiff as you turned your head, slowly, like you could delay the humiliation waiting for you. And there he was. Cain Montgomery. Your husband. The man you were supposed to be following at the moment. Leaning casually against the brick wall just behind you, one boot crossed over the other, arms folded. His lips curled into that infuriatingly smug half-smile that said he’d known exactly what you were doing from the start. He did. Who were you kidding? Of course he did. This was Cain Montgomery afterall. He didn’t become who he was by not noticing someone tailing him. Especially not you. Because he always noticed you. - Cain tilted his head, eyes glinting under the streetlamp, the picture of calm amusement while your heart tried to sprint its way out of your chest.

Of course he found your most embarrassing moment amusing. Sucker. Loser. Pain in the damn neck.

“Something on your mind?” His voice was laced with mock innocence, like he hadn’t just caught you red-handed, “You look a little… red. Not that I mind. The color most suits you.” You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Brilliant. Real smooth. Perfect impression of a goldfish. Nice going, girl! “I—” Your throat worked. “I was just… walking, y’know? Infact, I didn’t know you were here. Hi Cain!” “Hey, sweetheart.” And for some reason, the way he said it always gave you butterflies. “Yeah– uhm– funny running into you here.” His brow ticked up. “Funny.” Cain pushed off the wall, straightening to his full height, which– dammit– somehow always felt looming. “Considering you’ve been shadowing me ever since I left our mansion.” And though you were embarrassed and wide-eyed, you couldn’t help but feel giddy at the use of the word our.

“What? No! I was just… heading the same way! Lots of people do that, y’know. Coincidences exist. It’s embarrassing of you to think I was following you.” His voice dipped just enough to make your ears burn. “Interesting choice of word, love. Because I wasn’t the one crouched behind a Honda Civic just now..” “And you just *assumed* it was because of you? I had to check my phone!” “Again, crouched behind a Honda Civic.” he countered smoothly, “And yeah, I can tell it was urgent, considering the dead, black screen and how you were looking around when I left.” Heat flared across your cheeks. Damn him. Damn his stupid sharp eyes. “With the way you’re describing it, you sound like a stalker. Maybe you’re the one following me, ever think of that?” That earned you a laugh. His laugh. Low, rich, and far too pleased. He leaned closer, the corner of his mouth curved in that maddening, perfect half-smile. “If I were following you, sweetheart…” His voice brushed over your skin like velvet. “…you wouldn’t have to wonder. You’d either know– if I wanted you to– or you wouldn’t. Simple.” Your heart lurched, the traitor! Why did he have to say things like that? Why did he always have to win?

You swallowed hard, trying to straighten your posture as if it could shield you from him. “It was cute, though. Seeing you hide from me.” “Excuse you.” “What? You know it was. You thinking I wouldn’t noticed. You looked so nervous.” He stepped closer, just enough that the heat radiating off him brushed your arm.

“So what– you’re into stalking now?” “Not particularly, no. Just when it’s you. I’m into anything if you’re the one doing it.”

He leaned just slightly so that the faintest brush of his chest was near yours, his eyes glinting under the streetlight. Your breath caught. What the actual hell was he playing at? Why was it working? “Cain…” “That’s my name, sweetheart. ” *And curse this annoyingly hot man for making you feel this way..* Cain’s smirk deepened, that infuriating mix of charm and mischief that always managed to unravel you. “And I love the way it rolls off your tongue when you say it,” he murmured, his voice a low drawl that made your knees wobble. He let the faint warmth of his body against yours do the talking instead of words. Your pulse spiked, every nerve in your body screaming. 

“This was fun and all, but you never have to hide from me, y’know?” “I wasn’t—” “Shhhhh” he put a hand to your mouth to silence you, and Is it weird to say his hand smelled great? So great. Damn, what does this man use– “Don’t make excuses. I already know the truth.” Then he slid his hand away, cupping your face instead. And then, impossibly slow, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours— not fully, just enough to make your knees weak and your pulse spike. A whisper of a kiss that promised more, that left you burning and wanting.

It was frustrating, maddening

Your knees nearly gave out, your chest tight, and your mind scrambled for coherent thought while every nerve screamed him, him, him. That faint brush lingered like fire, igniting every part of you that had been very badly pretending to be calm and collected just moments ago.

Cain’s eyes held yours, glinting with amusement and something darker, more intimate, like he knew exactly how to unravel you and he was enjoying it. Then, he brushed his forehead against yours, close enough for your breaths to mingle. “Will you give me a reason for following me around today?” His voice was barely above a whisper, intimate, almost tender, yet with that sharp edge that kept you on edge.

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice trembling. “I just— just wanted to… see where you went.”

“Mmm… Missed me that much? That worried about me?”

Your cheeks flamed and you buried your face in his chest. He held you, the warmth of his body feeling like home. “Next time,” he murmured, “you can skip the hiding… I like knowing you’re always near.”

Then he cupped your face again, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones, his gaze locking with yours– sharp, commanding, yet laced with that familiar mischief. He leaned in again slowly, giving you every heartbeat to anticipate it, every nerve to tingle. He better kiss you properly this time dammit

His lips finally met yours. Soft at first, a teasing brush, a whisper of contact that made your knees threaten to buckle. You shivered into him, the faintest moan escaping your lips as he pulled back just slightly, eyes gleaming like he was savoring the effect he had on you. Tchhhhh Before you could snap back, before you could show him how annoyed he was making you He kissed you again. And finally it was more than a brush. His lips pressed hard, insistent, claiming yours with a heat that left no room for argument. His hand slid into your hair, fingers tangling, holding you right where he wanted you as if he’d never let go. The other hand tightened at your waist, pulling you flush against him. It was all him. His scent, his warmth, his smug mouth. You let your hands slide into his hair. Your fingers tangled in his hair almost on instinct, clutching, pulling him closer like he hadn’t already stolen every inch of space between you. Cain groaned into the kiss, low and deep, the sound vibrating through your chest and making your stomach flip. He tilted his head, lips moving against yours with practiced ease, coaxing, demanding, devouring— the damn smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you. His hand at your waist slid lower, firm against your hip, guiding you into him until there was nothing but heat, nothing but Cain, Cain, Cain. And maybe this was why you decided to stalk him. Maybe you knew he’d catch you.

And maybe you were waiting to be caught.

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

A Killer Kind of Apology - A Cain Fic

Cain barely cared what the argument was about anymore. You had stopped talking to him afterwards, telling him something about needing some space. Cain understood. He did. Sometimes… you just needed space. Room to breathe. Room to think before saying anything that could stick the wrong way. 

But as the hours stretched on, his chest grew heavy with that gnawing feeling he hated. Regret. He replayed the fight in his head, the way your eyes had narrowed and your voice had gone sharp, and his own stubborn replies that only made things worse. He hated losing to anyone, but losing you--- even temporarily--- was never worth being right.

He knew he should just give you time. You'll come back when you're ready. You always do.

He'd just have to wait.

Just had to be the patient man he is.

Except he couldn't.

Each tick of the clock was a small tug at his chest.

And was time messing with him, because why the hell was it going so slow?

Cain’s hands flexed at his sides, jaw tight. He hated feeling vulnerable like this-- hated admitting that the argument, the stubbornness, the pride… it all paled in comparison to the thought of you being upset with him. 

So he finally got up and went to find you.

When he peeked in, you weren’t hiding, just sitting quietly-- probably thinking and processing-- staring at the floor as if the world had shrunk to the space between your knees.

Cain’s chest tightened as he stepped fully into the room. The sight of you there-- so small, so quiet-- made him want to do something, anything to fix the tension.

And you looked at him.

An all too familiar look. He knew what it was. He’d seen it before, staring back at him in the mirror as a child, a small boy punished for being just that, not the man he was expected to be.

You were hurt.

And he had caused it.

He stepped closer, careful not to crowd you, but desperate to close the distance. 

“Hey…” His voice was softer than usual, almost a whisper. 

You looked back at him, your soft eyes staring into his, and something in him twisted. Dammit.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it lightly, though he hated that you could see him like this-- vulnerable, unsettled. “I…” he cleared his throat, “I don’t do this well,” he admitted, voice low, tight around the edges. “Apologizing, I mean. Not that it excuses anything, but… yeah.”

It was the honest truth. Cain never apologized, not really. The only other times he did was in his cruel childhood.

But if it meant you'd stay-- if it meant you wouldn’t be so upset-- he'd try his very best.

You stayed quiet, probably waiting for him to continue. 

His hands flexed at his sides. “Y’know, I hate… making you feel small. And I hate that I let my pride get in the way like that. It just… happens. Not quite used to… this.”

He then took a slow breath, letting the words settle in the air between you. “I can’t erase it, obviously. And I can't promise I'll never let my pride get the best of me again-- it's a stupid habit, really. But... I can try. I can try to make it right. If you let me.”

He paused, as if waiting for a reaction, but also afraid you’d look away, because one look from you, one blink, and he could lose himself again. “So… I’m here. I’ll stay. I’ll wait. Or… I’ll do whatever you want. Just… don’t shut me out, okay? I can't--" He tried to breathe, when the hell did it become so hard to? "I don’t expect you to forgive me instantly… hell, I don’t even know if I deserve it. But I don't know what to do if you don't. I want to try. With you. With us.”

He was finally able to take a deep breath, before speaking once more, voice a little rougher.

"So, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'm… so sorry."

And you can tell it was hard for him. You can tell he's barely ever had to do this before.

And your heart squeezed.

He let his hand rest near yours, not forcing contact, just close enough that you could feel it if you wanted to. And then he waited, every muscle in his body taut with anticipation, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’d let him in again.

And how could you not forgive this stupid man?

So you took his hand, holding it. His eyes widened slightly.

You were holding his hand.

"You're making this real hard, y’know?" You mumble, eyes a little watery because of his damn emotional words, "Damn you."

Cain blinked, a little stunned, then let out a short, rough laugh that barely masked how much relief and something sharper-- something warmer-- was bubbling in his chest.

You were forgiving him. Slowly but surely.

You weren't gonna leave him.

"You idiot, I just needed some space to think, not because I was gonna leave." you murmured, bonking his head, "Because if we kept jabbing at eachother in the moment, we'd both be hurt. It wouldn't do either of us any good."

Phew "I know… but you were in there ages. It felt…."

"Cain, I was in there for an hour tops."

"Well it felt like ages to me." he muttered. You chuckled and he looked at you, eyes softening. “I… Can I…?” he asked quietly, voice low. You could’ve still needed a little space, and Cain didn’t want to overstep.

You blinked, caught off guard by the hesitance in his voice, the unusual vulnerability. Then you gave him a warm smile.

That beautiful smile. What was he gonna do with you? “Please.” you whispered, and you didn’t need to say anything else as he closed the tiny distance between you, letting his arms wrap around you gently.

He finally felt at ease-- at home--  head nuzzled in your neck. “Thank you, Cain… for coming here and apologizing.” “Anytime, sweetheart.”

What he didn’t tell you was how he’d do it a thousand times over if it meant you’d be there. In his arms. Because that was corny. Tch it sounded like something out of one of Abel’s plays or Gius’ ebooks. And Cain wouldn’t say something corny. Not out loud, anyway. But you were slowly getting him to that point. You always make him want to do things he’d never do for anyone else. Cain pressed a little closer, inhaling the soft scent of you, letting the warmth of your body calm the storm he’d been carrying all day.

“Anytime.”

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

AKSAAAAA We've turned one year old people! Thank you so much to everyone who was here with me throughout the journey. This year was tough personally, I'm not gonna lie, so I couldn't post as much as I'd hope. Thanks for supporting me anyways. This account started because of my hyperfixation and need to write about xyx after I gained motivation to do so from the fanfic channel in their discord server. Before that, I always read other peoples' fanfics or kept my own private. My name was a quick spur-of-the-moment decision I made as a joke and hey, it's sticking! Originally, I planned to have this blog as just a xyx fic one, but oh how things change. I later on decided I should post my other writings on here too (I mean--- my name is sumtheamazinglysickauthor, not onlyxyxfics) and announced that. This slowly turned into my main account, so I decided I might aswell also post just random blogs as well! I'll be fixing the blog and making it look more like the blog it is now. With a majority of the fictional characters I'll be writing for. Thanks to those watching it grow. Thank you all for everything! You all made this writing journey absolutely wonderful. Sharing my work and seeing people enjoy it really made my day. Thank you everyone for your love and support! Requests are also always open! Hope you guys stay and enjoy the ride because more fics of these beautiful suave smug bastards are comin' soon!

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Akerhuifui Hey everyone! As you may or may not have noticed, I'm back from my break (I've been back for a little while, just forgot to post...) and doing better now <3 I've posted the part 2 to Groceries (though my writing style may or may not have changed just a teensy bit) Looks like I'm just in time because apparently sumtheamazinglysickauthor's yearaversary is comin' up! Can't believe it's almost been a whole year since my first fanfic on this account. Yada yada I'll leave my big speech for the day of the yearaversary (tomorrow). But thank you for being here.

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Sick n with You - A Cain Fic

--- Another fic I posted a while ago on Ao3 that I forgot to post here, so here ya go! --- Your head felt heavy, like the weight of the world had settled there. Heat burned under your skin, but your voice shivered. You'd kept to your room, not wanting to worry the others. You'd told them you were just tired and wanted to sleep. 

So here you were. Wrapped in a blanket, body fighting with fire and ice.

The thing is, the whole world felt wobbly by the minute and at this point, you had practically lost most— if not all— of your common sense. You couldn't even register the cold cloth on your forehead until a smooth voice broke through the haze.

"Stop thrashing about. You'll only make it worse." 

You looked and there he was. 

Cain. Looking fine as always. 

“Cainnn,” you whined, grabbing at his shirt clumsily. Body warmth and all. “Did you know… you have, like… three faces right now?” You squinted at him, then giggled weakly. 

Cain arched a brow, his mouth twitching like he was fighting off a smirk. “How fortunate for you.”

You laughed at that, tugging his shirt closer and burying your face in his fabric. All of which he actually let you do. He was cooler than your burning skin, which was ridiculously unfair. “Mhm. All handsome and hot. Even the blurry ones.”

That earned the faintest chuckle from him, low and sharp like it slipped past his guard. He pressed the cloth gently against your temple, his other hand steadying you when you tried to wriggle.

“Hold still,” he muttered, though his grip wasn’t rough— it was steady . Grounding , like he knew you’d float off without it.

You pouted against his chest, your words muffled. “Can’t help it. The bed’s spinning. You’re spinning too.”

“Tch. Figures.” Cain adjusted the cloth, expression unreadable except for the faint crease of worry at his brow. “Should’ve told me sooner. Instead of hiding away out here. You’re lucky I was suspicious. You never just lock yourself in.”

That’s the thing about Cain. He always knew when something was up. Stupidly smart man.

“Not smart,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Pushing until you break. One of your dumbest decisions.”

Your only answer was a little hum, nuzzling closer like you hadn’t heard the bite in his tone at all. “M’not broken. Just… melty.” you then smiled so sweetly, “You’ll fix it, Cain. You always do, y’know.”

Cain froze at that. The words were slurred, fever-muddled nonsense. Things you probably wouldn’t even remember later on. Yet they sank sharper than any blade.

You always do.

He almost scoffed. Almost. Because what the hell did you mean by that? He wasn’t supposed to fix anything. Not for you. Not for anyone.

Yet here he was. 

Trying to get rid of this stupid fever.

Because he didn’t ever want to see you suffering.

“You have terrible survival skills. Relying on the wrong man like this.”

But your grip on his shirt only tightened, as though even in your haze you knew he wouldn’t leave. And damn it, you were right.

He wasn’t going anywhere .

Your eyelids fluttered, lips moving again around words he had to lean close to catch. “You’re the most reliable man I know— besides my dad.” You smiled, “Told you… I trust you.” A pause, your breath warm against him. “…Always will.”

Cain’s jaw tightened, a quiet scoff leaving him like he could laugh the words off. “You really don’t know what you’re saying.”

I trust you. Always will.

What the hell did you know about trust? 

You knew who he was. Of course you did. You’ve known since day one. Cain never hid it. And yet, here you were. Clinging to him with your soft fever-warm hands, whispering vows of trust you shouldn’t even think, let alone say.

What was he to do with you?

“Cain,” you murmured again,  continuously tugging weakly at his shirt until he leaned closer. “Lay down. Stay here. Just for a little.”

“Already want me in your bed?” he teased, giving you a smug look to mask everything else, “Take me out first, I’m not Abel.” 

“Cain, please.” You pleaded. Your fingers fumbled, weak but persistent, and you let out a small, feverish laugh. “I just… want you here. Please… ”

Damn that did something to his heart. 

How could he refuse when you begged him so nicely? 

“Well… since you asked so politely .”

He eased himself next to you,

One arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you snug against him. The heat of his body pressed just enough to make your feverish haze feel dizzy. For other reasons this time. His other hand gently smoothed your hair back, brushing against your temple as he kept the cloth in place.

“Always know how to get it your way, don��t you?” 

“Mmmm…” you hummed, satisfied.

“You’re really a needy little thing when your sick. Or is this how you feel all the time?” the thought makes him smile, “Are you just good at hiding how you feel?” 

“I… like having you close…” you murmured, voice so low he could miss it if you weren’t on him. You held on to him tight, so tight. Like any moment he could just disappear, “Don’t leave me, Cain. Please. I want you to stay forever and ever and ever and ever and ever.” Cain had never felt like this before. He never felt so wanted, so needed. If anything, he should be the one telling you not to go. He’s had enough people in his life leave him, willingly or otherwise. 

Yet here you were.

Begging him to stay.

Pleading him to never leave your side.

Like he ever could. 

Cain’s chest tightened at your words, a low, almost imperceptible hum escaping him. His teasing smile faltered, replaced by something quieter, warmer, and far more dangerous— something you felt in the press of his body against yours.

“You don’t… know what you do to me,” he started, voice getting rougher, “You’re clinging to me like this just so I don't go anywhere. And… I’m not going to. Not now. Not ever. Not if I can help it.”

He hadn’t been this vulnerable with anyone. Never promised anything of the sort. Yet here he was, letting someone in. Doing things he’s never done before. Feeling things he’s never felt before. Taking care of you, wanting to do it , worrying about you. 

You were the woman always on his damn mind. 

The only woman on his damn mind. Ever.

And maybe he likes that. Maybe he likes being the one taking care of you, the one you let see you in such a state. The one who got to see all of you. Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t soft. Wasn’t sentimental. But the way you clung to him, the trust in your voice… It all did something to him. Something he didn’t want to admit.

His chest pressed against yours, firm and grounding, and for a brief, dizzying moment, the world narrowed to the two of you. Your eyes slowly closed as sleep finally overtook your body. He could feel your heat, your trust, your dependence— and instead of pulling away like he normally would, he let it anchor him. 

Anchor him to you .

Because Cain Montgomery had finally found someone who would stay.

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Ring Shopping - A Cain Fic

--- I posted this on my Ao3 a few days ago and forgot to post it on my Tumblr... So here ya go! --- Cain stood outside the glossy jewellery store– allegedly the best in the city, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. He glanced at the display windows, smirking. Smirking so confidently you’d think he’s probably got it all figured out– and, well, he thought so too as he pushed the doors open. It’s just a ring, right? How hard could it be? He was greeted by the clerks and merchants, who were good at pretending they wanted to be there at all. “Good afternoon, sir,” one called out, stepping forward, “Looking for something special?” Cain’s smirk deepened, “ Very. Something that my future wife can’t say ‘no’ to.” The clerk nodded, “Why of course, sir! We’ve got plenty of exquisite options that will make any woman say yes without hesitation. Please, follow me.” He led Cain deeper into the store, past glittering displays of gems set in delicate bands. Cain’s eyes scanned the rings as the clerk showed them. They were very beautiful and definitely worth more than the average person’s yearly salary. They were rare jewels, the kind collectors would whisper about. The kind people would die for. The kind one would probably look at for hours and still not get tired because they were just that gorgeous. Yet, Cain wasn’t satisfied . He picked one of them up, turning it under the light and trying to figure out what the problem was. “The cut’s wrong on this one. Amateur work. I’ve seen more depth in a damn puddle.” he finally muttered. The clerk blinked at the unexpected comment, before putting on that same practiced grin, “Ah… I see. Well, there’s plenty more options to choose from, sir!” Cain picked up another one. “The prongs are bulky, they’ll snag on everything she wears.” And another. “The gold’s not as pure as it should be. What kind of an idiot do you take me for?”

“It’s twenty four karats though, sir!”

“Twenty four karats of disappointment.” And another. “You must be messing with me. The setting is all crooked. Was the jeweller asleep while they were making this?” “T- That design is very popular, sir–” “So are knockoff sneakers.”

And another. But no matter which one he looked at, none of them satisfied him. Worse. None of them felt yours. Sure, they were glittery. Yes, they were sparkly. And yeah, maybe there were women who’d kill to get their hands on one of these. But maybe that was the problem. None of them were special. None of them screamed your name. They were all just noise. Flashy. Loud. Obnoxious. Distractions that anyone could buy if they had the money. And you were certainly not anyone. The clerk blinked, visibly regretting his choice in careers. The smile on his face was long gone. The poor man was confused. He’d never met someone so unimpressed by beautiful riches like these. “S-Sir, these are some of the finest pieces in the country.” the poor clerk said, voice slightly wavering.

“If these are what you call fine, maybe you should consider a new line of work.” Cain scoffed, looking at the poor clerk with shark eyes. It was clear he was getting impatient. I mean— this was supposed to be a quick in and out. Instead, here he was, spending hours in a store he thought he’d only need to be in for five minutes. On top of that, this so-called ‘best jewellery store’ apparently did not have anything good to offer. Or— at least— nothing good enough for you.

“I- I assure you, sir, our artisans have dedicated their lives to crafting these rare pieces.” the clerk stammered, adjusting his tie for the nth time.

“And all that dedication created these disappointments.” Cain sighed, “If this is a lifetime’s work, I’d hate to see what you people make on bad days.”

The clerk swallowed, trying to think for a moment. Unhappy customers were so rare, he didn’t know what to do. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. 

“Perhaps we can m- make you a custom order, sir. I- It can be crafted to your preferences and specifications..” he finally let out. 

Cain’s eyebrow raised, intrigued but annoyed at the time wasted. “Could’ve told me you did those an hour ago. Would’ve saved both of us alot of time and trouble.” he muttered.

The clerk gave a stiff, apologetic nod, though the pounding in his ears made it hard to hear himself think.

“I- I’ll fetch our head artisan immediately.” he said, his voice cracking as if even the thought of keeping Cain waiting a second longer might be fatal.

“Good. Thank you.” –---- Cain smiled as he walked back to his mansion, greeted by Giuseppe. “How was ring shopping, sir?” Giuseppe had a knowing look. Of course he did. Cain had arrived after hours. “It went well. Easy peasy.” Cain quickly replied. “But Master Cain, it’s been hours since you left. I thought you said you would be back in fifteen minutes tops.” Giuseppe pointed out, smiling.

It was true– Cain hadn’t expected buying a ring to take more than fifteen minutes, though Giuseppe had warned him otherwise. The man had offered to accompany his young master, eager to assist, but Cain insisted on handling it alone. If you asked him, he’d say it was because it was just a ring, but deep down, Cain knew he wanted the choice to be entirely his own. No help. No distractions. Just him. That’s what would make it truly special.

“I just wanted to explore the city,” he shrugged. “You’ve lived here your whole life.” “Exactly. It’s important to appreciate the finer things.” “But sir, you don’t appreciate the finer things.”

“Giuseppe, you’re fired.” Cain smirked.

And the two of them continued to talk and laugh, as Cain took out his phone to set a reminder on his calendar—though, if he was honest with himself, the reminder was probably pointless. He would be counting down every day, every second, just waiting for the moment he could finally hold the ring in his hand and give it to you. The one he had taken so long designing and perfecting. The one you would soon be wearing on the pretty little ring finger of yours.  Ohh he just couldn’t wait.

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Cooking - A Xyx Fic

--- Part 1 This part was made unedited a few months back, so it may have some mistakes. My writing style may or may not have changed just a bit. Be warned... --- The door clicked open with a lazy push, Xyx’s shoulder nudging it wider because both his hands were full.

 “Home,” he announced, stepping inside with all the self-satisfaction of a man who had just won something important. “And champion of the Great Grocery Dash, in case you’ve already forgotten.”

You followed him in, a bag swinging at your side. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Don’t forget, doll,” he said with a smirk over his shoulder, “I’ll be taking my prize after dinner.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him into the kitchen to set everything down. “Prize. Riight. Let me guess— bragging rights?”

 “Tempting, but no,” he chuckled,, setting the bags on the counter with a victorious thump. “I’m thinking something much sweeter.”

 You raised an eyebrow, turning the color of the tomatoes you pull out, “Like… dessert?”

 He leaned casually against the counter, “What kind of dessert?”

“I don’t know… Chocolate cake? Fruit salad? Pavlova? ” you say, voice a little high-pitched and innocent. He smirked at you, voice dropping into that mock-serious tone he used in court, “Good guesses, love, but I was thinking more along the lines of a kiss. Maybe more, depending on how generous the jury feels tonight.”

You snorted to mask the flush, setting down a bundle of cilantro. “Jury’s still in deliberation. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Mm. I’ve seen enough trials to know when the verdict’s already in my favor,” he said, plucking a cucumber out of the bag and inspecting it like it was some kind of exhibit. “Face it, doll, you’re not getting out of this one.”

“You’re an impossible man…” you mutter. “Objection.” he shot back, “I’m an irresistible man.”

You tried, tried to keep a straight face, but a laugh broke out anyway as you reached for the cutting board. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said smoothly, already rolling his sleeves up like he was about to cross-examine the vegetables.

You glanced at him, suspicious. “You’re not about to pull some trick to get out of chopping, are you?”

Xyx gave you his best innocent look, hand over his heart. “Me? Avoid prep work? Doll! I’m deeply wounded.”

He took it, twirling it once between his fingers before starting in on the vegetables. “Careful now, doll. Handing me a knife in this house is basically granting me full custody of the kitchen.”

“You wish,” you shot back, sliding the cutting board closer. “I’m not about to let you take over my kitchen.”

“Our kitchen,” he corrected smoothly, flashing you a grin before lining up the knife. “But fine, co-counsel it is.”

“Y’know, co-counsel means equal work,” you warned, pulling out the onions. “So don’t think you can slack off.”

He gave you a mock salute, knife tapping against the board in rhythm. “Yes, ma’am. Full compliance. No objections.”

For a blissful two minutes, the kitchen filled with the sound of chopping— until you noticed him casually sliding one of the cucumber slices into his mouth.

“Xyx!” you swatted at him with the back of your spoon. “That’s for dinner!”

He only grinned, chewing slowly like he was savoring victory itself. “Relax, doll. Quality control. Can’t have my gorgeous wife eating this if I don’t test for poison first.”

“Riiight.” You arched a brow, plucking a slice off the board before he could snag another. “Funny how your ‘tests’ only ever apply to the things you like.”

Xyx leaned in, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours, and dropped his voice into a low drawl. “What can I say? I’ve got very particular tastes.”

You scoffed, nudging his elbow just enough to make his next slice come out uneven. “Convenient excuse for a thief.”

“Thief?” He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning outrage even as he reached around you to drop another handful of chopped cucumber into his mouth. “Love, I prefer the term connoisseur.”

You gave him a flat look, scooping up the cucumbers and sliding them into the bowl before he could grab more. “Whatever you are, you’re about one bite away from being banned from the kitchen. We’re supposed to be cooking dinner, not snacking on the ingredients!”

“You wouldn’t ban me.” he said smugly, leaning in just enough to test your threat. “You’d miss me too much.” “Mess around and find out.” You threatened, taking your spatula out.

Xyx lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, love!” he said, before running two fingers across his lips in an exaggerated zip-and-lock motion.

And so, a comfortable quiet hit the kitchen. The sizzle of onions hit the pan, filling the kitchen with that first, mouthwatering wave of dinner. You gave the pan a stir while Xyx lined up neat piles of vegetables on the board. For all his dramatics, his knife work was annoyingly precise. Why in the world was he so good at everything?

At one point, he bumped your hip with his just to see you huff and nudge him back. At another, you caught him humming under his breath as he sprinkled seasoning over the pan, like the two of you hadn’t just been waging a miniature war over cucumbers of all things five minutes ago.

Finally, you stepped back and crossed your arms, watching him taste-test the sauce with the seriousness of a judge deliberating a verdict.

You raised an eyebrow as he smacked his lips, humming like he was contemplating life itself. “Well?” you prompted.

He smiled, only for it to shift into a mischievous smirk. “Well, love, I think you should try it.”

You looked at him, slightly concerned as he put the spoon down, “Why? Does it taste ba—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when he pulled you closer by the wrist, his free hand sliding lightly to the small of your back and couldn’t even try to protest before his mouth was on yours. 

The kiss wasn’t too long, just enough for you to taste the sauce– like that was even on your mind at the moment– and forget what you were about to say.

When he finally drew back, he wore that infuriatingly smug grin again, like he won something.

And honestly, if you asked him, he really did.

“That,” he murmured, brushing his thumb against your wrist before letting go, “is my verdict. Perfectly seasoned. Now, love, what’s yours?”

“It’s… delicious…” is all you can manage, distracted by the feeling of his lips still there. Way to act like you’re a new couple.

His grin widened, eyes half lidded and boring into yours, “Good.” He leaned back just slightly, letting the tension ease enough for you to breathe again— but only barely.

Together, you finished up the last touches: he plated the vegetables with an almost ceremonial flourish while you spooned the sauce over the main dish, your laughter mixing with the faint sizzling still coming from the pan.

Xyx slid the plates onto the table while you served the food. He pulled out a chair for you with a flourish that was somehow both kind of ridiculous and very charming. 

And the two of you ate in easy rhythm, trading small jokes and teasing glances between bites. By the time the plates were empty, the kitchen felt alive with warmth, laughter, and the comfortable closeness that only came from sharing a meal together one stolen kiss and playful argument at a time.

And you were happy. 

Because all that silly banter and little jokes and all of Xyx’s ridiculous(-ly charming) moves were yours.

And somehow, in all that chaos and laughter, it felt like home.

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Hey everyone! Long time no see... Been a good while huh... Ahem- My google docs got fixed, I just forgot to post my fanfic for a bit.

I don't feel well posting it yet because I'm going through some personal things right now, BUT I will once things get better (which'll hopefully be soon)

This is my monthly post to let you know I'm still here! I'll post something depending on what happens. Thanks for your patience and love, everyone! <3

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Jinu is alive and there will be a sequel where RuJinu is engame and no one can tell me otherwise.

I've seen many theories that could actually be canon. He's alive everyone. They can't just kill him off...

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

I need this man in ways that'll disturb feminists and make them glare at me, shaking their heads as they sigh in disappointment

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Heya peeps hope you're doin' fine

I know I told you guys a while ago that my xyxfic would be posted the next day, but my google docs is crashing and since thats where I created it in the first place, I can't access nor copy paste. I'll try to get it out somewhere this week!

(Thank God for Word because one of my professors would've given me hell)

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Planning on dropping Groceries Part 2 tomorrow (doesn't matter where you are, it'll probably still be the next day) if you'd like to see...

I've started working on requests aswell, should be out this month if my job, classes, and life lets me.

Also writing a fic about a character that's not a request (well- he's been requested but I've started this one beforehand). New for my account, right? Guess who. Ya get 3 tries.

Til I post said fics, I'll be postin' random posts and content because I'm a grown woman with random thoughts that I need to let out somewhere.

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

May The Fourth Be With You

(I had to... anyways NEW FIC COMING UP THIS WEEK HOPEFULLY I've finally gotten my work sched fixed (and my life and pacj sched) for the month)

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Hey Tumblr peeps: Sorry, my workload has increased A LOT this year and also in the middle of packin' for a move so ya didn't hear from me this month.

I'll be goin' through requests and feeding you guys as soon as possible, but I prefer quality >> quantity therefore I will do it without rush when I am ready. Mate, I'll be real honest-- cannot WAIT to be back to write for all ya (and myself) since I found out that's something new that keeps me sane and if you think I've forgotten about you lot, I will find you (lovingly of course).

Til then, I'll be writing bits and pieces and reading fics to keep myself from losin' screws. Talk to you guys next time. See ya, mates.

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

Hii people of Tumblr! I got a few requests and Id just like to let the anons know that I am not dead, just a lil busy at the moment with work. I'll be postin' the fics soon... Thanks for your patience!

[sumtheamazinglysickauthor]

"Happy Ides of March everyone" I say, as I take out my knives (they've been waiting for this day... waiting for a certain Caesar)

Anyone want to do something real funny with me? :)