#They began to play hide and seek

[nelkcats]

Hide and Seek

When his family decided to play hide and seek, Danny always participated. He was an expert; after months of running away, coupled with the fact that he had invisibility, the game was very easy, the halfa had always been the best.

So when his family decided to team up to hide from Gotham and their heroes Danny did it too. He could see Officer Gordon searching for the "dangerous" couple and Batman tracking the "meta" but they would never find them. They were too good at the game.

Oracle would despair at their blurry, seeing corrupted images as they led the rest of the vigilantes in a circling search because it was fun.

Of course, they were so distracted paying attention to them that they forgot the other bats. No wonder Red Hood asked for payment after founding them in Crime Alley a few days later (Danny wondered if the vigilante would be willing to play with him, it was strange that he didn't accuse them)

[foldingfittedsheets]

In my household growing up scaring each other was like an Olympic level sport. We’d wait around corners, we’d hide under things. We took it seriously.

My mom started it. She loved scaring us. She has a cherished photo of me screaming that she took one Halloween night after jumping out of a dark bush at me. But my quickly brother latched onto the game with abandon. Mom quickly regretted teaching us to do this as turnabout did not seek like fair play to her.

At one point my sister was given a life size cardboard cutout of Legolas and the second we realized that thing was an instant jump scare we’d move it all over the house. The scream from the bathroom at 2am was my crowning achievement but Legolas tragically went missing shortly after. Read: my mom burned him.

Now, as the youngest I was at a severe disadvantage. I spooked the easiest after my mom. I was exceptionally sneaky and patient so I typically got my revenge but I quickly learned that if you didn���t jump then it was less fun. Thus began my campaign for nonreaction. Every time someone jumped out at me I startled a little less as I stamped down on the reflex.

After a year or so I would just blink at my brother when he popped out from a closet. Don’t get me wrong, I was still scared. The spike of adrenaline and panic still happened internally but I didn’t react anymore. My brother soon gave up on me and the game died to our mothers intense relief.

I largely forgot about that period of my life but every so often someone tries to scare me and is extremely disappointed.

My favorite of these attempts was at Red Robin. Servers loved to spook the hosts when they could, it was a fun pastime when they didn’t have enough to do.

The hosts were meant to open the doors for people when it was slow. The door we opened had a single seat beside it on the left, then a blind hallway that led to the bathroom.

One evening I was on door duty. I was facing slightly away from the seat on my left. A server buddy of mine snuck out of the bathroom quiet as could be. He waited for the perfect moment, then leapt over the seat to land in front of me with a huge, “RAH!!!!!” It was a feat of fear and athleticism.

Panic shot through me like a lightning bolt but grounded itself quickly. I didn’t outwardly so much as blink in surprise, and after a quick beat I turned to look at him calmly and said, “Hey, Joe.”

He deflated and all the other hosts jaws dropped. “How did you see me?!”

“I didn’t,” I assured him.

He scoffed in disbelief and slunk away defeated.

He hounded me for a week about how coolly I’d greeted him, asking if I’d heard him coming or if another host had tipped me off. “No, you scared me,” I told him. He never believed it and no further attempts were ever made on me.

[alastor-simp]

Horror Movie Night😈 - Alastor x Reader

Charlie wanted to find an activity to bring everyone together, since a lot of the personalities in the hotel would clash. She had made a list of ideas, but majority of them were turn down for being too childish. The last option was a movie night with everyone, and surprisingly everyone agreed. The genre of movie was the real problem. Charlie wanted a musical. Vaggie had a preference for drama. Angel dust preferred either a steamy flick (aka porn) or comedy. Niffty voted for romance. Husk didn't really care, but he wouldn't be upset if it was an action movie. Sir Pentious was interested in historical / documentaries. Alastor was not a big fan of modern technology especially television, but he would give it a try if the movie was a horror. You enjoyed all genres of movies, so it didn't matter which one you saw. Coming up with an idea, you suggested pulling a name out of the hat, to decide the genre of movie that gets picked. Borrowing Husk's hat for a bit, everyone wrote their name on a piece of paper and tossed it in. After a quick shake, you grabbed the first piece of paper and pulled it out.

Yelp, looks like it was going to be a horror movie as Al's was the name you pulled out. Everyone had made their way to the couch, while some of them sat on the floor. They were all dressed in their pajamas. Niffty had made popcorn and drinks for everyone to enjoy during the movie. Charlie was lighting some candles to add some effect when the movie was playing. Next to you on the couch was Alastor. He was wearing a red stripped top, and black lounge pants. He seemed very cozy. "Hey Al. What movie did you pick?" Alastor looked at you, smiling big as always. 'Well my dear, I picked whatever seemed interesting! I hope you will enjoy it!" Giving an awkward smile back, your eyes turned toward the TV as soon as Charlie pressed play. You didn't mind horror movies, but being the scaredy cat that you were, they still made you scream.

The movie that Alastor picked was "The Descent." The start of the film was a bit slow, but it slowly began to build up overtime. It got to the point in the movie where the characters had entered into the large cave, to explore. Yeah, that was already a red flag. Scanning your eyes around the room, you took in everyone's reactions. Charlie and Vaggie were hugging the life out of each other. Niffty was smiling, but she was clutching on to her plushie very tightly. Angel was on edge and tried to cling on to Husk, only to be pushed back by him. Angel huffed and decided to a least grab Husk's hand for comfort, and Husk allowed that at least. Sir Pentious was cowering on the floor, wrapping his whole tail around him. Alastor was just smiling next to you, obviously enjoying where the movie was going. You, on the other hand, was getting a very bad feeling in your stomach as the characters kept exploring the cave. The pillow that you were holding was being used as a shield as you kept hiding behind it, waiting for something to happen.

The climax of the movie had arrived when the grotesque bat-like monster had made an appearance and proceeded to feast on one of the characters. Everyone in the room had screamed and jumped, including you, as you covered your face with the pillow. There was a chuckle to your right as Alastor was laughing, at both the movie and your adorable reactions. From the start of the film, Al was seeking glances at you, wondering what your next reaction would be. The face you made when the dread set in was highly entertaining to him. However, he did pity you a bit, as he could see that the movie was frightening you tremendously. Unbeknownst to you, you felt someone drape their arm behind your shoulders, pulling your body closer towards them. Looking up from the pillow, it was clear that it was Al who had done it. His eyes were still watching the movie, clearly enjoying the gruesome moments. Not saying a word, you continued to watch the movie, but the feelings of fear had diminished a bit due to Alastor's actions. The movie had finally ended, as the credits began to flash on the screen. Everyone gave a sigh of relief, except Al . Clapping with glee, he found the movie quite invigorating. Vaggie rolled her eyes at him, while whispering "creepy weirdo" under her breath. It had gotten super late, so it was time to head for bed.

Wishing everyone a good night sleep, you carried yourself back to your room, despite the prickling sensation that you felt crawling up your back. That movie was still on your mind, but you tried to push the fear away. Alastor was following from behind , since the both of you were next door neighbors. "Feeling alright, my dear? That picture show had you shaking like a leaf!" He was definitely smirking when he said that. "No s✪✪✪, Sherlock." Grumbling your response back at him, you continued to make your way to your cozy abode. Having arrived at the door, you turned to Al, who had just arrived at his door. "Good night, Alastor." "You as well, my dear!" Making over to the bed, you laid down and got under the covers, adjusting yourself to get comfortable. It took a while, but the droopy feeling had taken effect on your eyes, and you fell into a deep sleep. Pitch blackness was all around you. The muscles in your body felt like they had been ripped apart. The air felt heavy, almost dry like you were underground. Something was moving around you, circling you, watching you. The monstrous sounds it made created a haunting echo. You begged your body to respond, it was no use. The sounds were coming closer. No. NO! You bellowed out a scream.

"Y/N!!" Someone was shaking you, causing your eyes to snap open. Your body was shaking and there were tears in your eyes. You slowly realized that you had a nightmare. Alastor was in front of you, hands on top of your shoulders. His glowing eyes eyeing you with concern, yet his smile was still present. "A-Al? W-what's wrong? W-why are you in m-my room?" Struggling out a response, your eyes looked at Al in confusion. "My dear, I had heard your shrieks of terror and rushed over! It appeared you were having a nightmare! A rather horrible one at that!" He was still holding on to you, which gave you some comfort. "Oh, I'm so sorry if I disturbed your sleep." Taking in a few deep breaths, helped tremendously as you were able to talk properly and control the shaking. Shaking his head, Al had let go of your shoulders, and moved his hands to your cheeks. "Darling, there is no need for you to apologize! But, may I ask what were you dreaming about?" Massaging your cheeks like a cat, Al smiled down at you, softness in his eyes. Explaining it in full detail, Al realized that the film you had witness, was the main cause of the night terror. He had known that you were scared, but not to the point it would result in you kicking and screaming in your sleep. He needed to rectify this.

"Come along, my dear!" Your body left the sanctity of your bed, and ended up in Alastors arms. He was carrying you like a bride. "W-what Al?! Where are you taking me?!" Whispering at him, while your brain was trying to wrap around this situation. Cocking his head to the side, he gave you an optimistic smile. "To my room!" There was no time to refute back as the both of you had arrived at his door. Creaking loudly, the door to his room had opened by itself. His room was like something out of a story book. One side was the normal room decor, illuminated with candle light. The walls were plastered with Alastor's personal trinkets and stag heads. The other side was saturated in moss, tall pine trees looming above. Chirps of crickets could be heard and glowing fireflies were flying around. Eyes widening in amazement, you continued to gaze around the room, earning a laugh from Al. In the center of the room, was an enormous bed, covered in satin sheets and black pillows. "How... How were you able to do this?" You breathed out, as Al placed you on the bed. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled down at you, wagging his finger. "Ah ah ah! A magician never reveals his secrets, my dear!" A thought popped in your head: "Where was he going to sleep." Snapping his fingers, Alastor used his powers to snuff out the flames from the candles, leaving only the fireflies as a source of light. Realization hit you, causing you to jump off the bed, leaving Al staring at you in confusion. "Wait Al! Are you okay with this? Sharing a bed?" Alastor looked at you, head crooked to the side. "Why of course! Are you oppose to the idea? Haven't you had your share of sleepovers with the effeminate spider?" Well yes you had, but this situation was different. "I'm not opposed to it, but I don't want you to do something you aren't comfortable with." You told Alastor this, rubbing your arm with your hand.

He was still befuddled by your statement until he began to wrap his head around of what you were saying. How charming you were! Thinking of him and his aversion to physical contact. "Darling, There is no need to worry." His body moved to crawl under the covers, sitting on the bed and looking at you. His finger pointed towards you, beckoning for you to return back to the bed. Still hesitant about the whole situation and observing his body language, it came to your decision that he was really okay with it. Your feet carried you back over, and slowly made its way under the covers, plopping your head on the pillow. Al huffed, a little annoyed that you didn't follow his instructions. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him. Your head was engulfed in his chest, feeling his chin, nuzzling it. "Comfortable, Y/N?" A warm breath whispered into your ear. His voice sent chills down your back, while also causing your heart to skip a beat. "Mmph" was your response, as your mouth was muffled against his chest. Hearing a hum from above, you felt Alastor nestle closer, hooking his leg over yours. The static emanating from him had quieted down and the thumping sound of his heart sounded much clearer. Extending out a yawn, your eyelids began droop while listening to the calming sound of Al's heartbeat. Soon, your eyelids had closed and you fell into a deep sleep.

Managing to stay awake, Al had watched you, making sure you were able to relax. He never in a million years thought he would be doing something like this. He was the radio demon, the most fearsome and all powerful overlord. Everyone trembled in fear from the sight of him, yet here he was now, cuddling you in his bed. He was getting soft, which displeased him greatly, yet he couldn't help but find it comforting as well. Your very-being was changing him, in both a good and bad way. Sighing, he pushed his thoughts away as he had a busy schedule tomorrow and needed to be well rested for his broadcast. Nuzzling closer, Alastor hugged you tighter. His glowing eyes dimmed and he had fallen asleep as well.

[earthtooz]

x : HOUSE OF CARDS :*+ﾟ

in which: for as long as you remember, sunday covers his eyes when he cries.

warnings: 1.5k words, fluff with elements of angst, kind of follows canon- not exactly though, sunday cries gold because i said so, based on his character stories, gn!reader who is an observer to the complexity that is sunday's lcharacter

a/n: an attempt into studying sunday was made- i don't think i hit the hammer on the nail quite right, but i tried, i mainly just wanted to celebrate him + his lc coming home YAY. i wish i had more time to let the outline of this marinate, but i couldn't see it being any better than it's current state, so apologies if this isn't the best or most eloquent read of your life.

Sunday had a habit of covering his eyes with his wings when he cried.

He didn’t cry often, but you would know when he did whenever his feathers pressed against his face, hiding his golden eyes and the ichor they’d shed front he world, not allowing anyone to see the depths of his soul, the magnitude of his suffering. 

The first time he did this was at the young age of nine, a fledgling barely a decade in to the tapestry of life. It happened after he fell over while chasing you and Robin around in Gopher Wood’s gardens, knee scraping against concrete and skin peeling in the process, resulting in a nasty scratch, and his wings fluttered to cover his face almost immediately, even stifling his sniffles as traces of golden tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping onto his clothes.

He bared himself to you not too long after, the tears and snot drying as you tended his wound with Robin singing him a comforting lullaby.

These were the innocent tears of childhood, none of you yet changed by the harsh realities that fate would guide your paths on.

The second time was after his first music class.

It seemed Robin stole the affinity for singing from him as their music teacher berated him, likening his voice to that of a ‘duckling’, comparable to the sound of nails on chalkboard. A 12 year old Sunday was sent out of class not too long after, the start of a tantrum beginning to take place as his eyes welled up and began sniffling, fists and wings clenched.

You come to his aid not too long after, having heard the commotion and wandering over, but when he saw you, he ducked out of your sight and covered his eyes with his wings, splaying them over his face. They were larger now and capable of covering the expanse of his head, only exposing his forehead and chin as you tried to console him.

“Hey, it’s okay!” You coo, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “Mr. Big Guy tells me your piano playing is amazing and that you’re a real prodigy, Sunday!”

The sniffles halt momentarily. “Really?” His wobbly voice had asked.

“Yeah! He’s proud of you, and you should be proud of that too!”

He bares himself to you, glassy golden eyes looking into you, trying to seek comfort in the familiarity of your friendliness and company. “You mean it?” 

“Of course!”

“Then… are you proud of me too, Y/n?”

“I’m always proud of you, dummy, now stop crying and cheer up!”

“You’re right,” he chuckles, wiping his face with the back of his hand as his other went to grasp yours. “I shouldn’t let that witch get to me.”

“Sunday! Be respectful of your teachers!”

Despite how often the grey-haired boy would listen to your whims and wishes, he never stopped calling his vocal teacher a witch or anything along the variant. It displeased you every time, but the most you would punish him with was a gentle slap on the arm and a scowl that would melt away as soon as he’d share his giantmoa pudding tarts with you.

A few months after that shared moment, Sunday had begun taking the Family lessons from the Bronze Melodia. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, he had dreamed of being an influence that would change Penacony and its Dreamscape for the better, and now it was finally his moment- his calling to the world had finally been heard, and they answered with a path that was of utmost righteousness and virtue. 

However, as he took more lessons, learned more about the ways of the Family, he grew into someone else. 

The third time you saw him cry was when you received the news that Robin was shot. A bullet wound to the neck, it was a miracle that she survived, but Sunday was inconsolable, even whilst knowing that she was alive, just on another planet. The distance was akin to torture because no matter how desperately he wished to be by her side, he couldn’t cross it while shackled to his duties in Penacony, so the spirit of the elder brother rested in your arms and cried. 

He sobbed quietly into your shoulder, wings covering his eyes as the two of you sit on the floor, a hauntingly beautiful image of despair as his limbs intertwined with yours. Sunday had collapsed on you the moment you welcomed him into your embrace, the ability to hold himself up being too much to stomach after knowing that he could have lost his sister. 

He cries until your limbs grow pins and needles, until you begin to feel weak under the weight of his grief and your own, until you feel the puddle of tears on your clothes drying. 

Gloved hands hold onto you tightly, and he knew something then and there.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, breath shuddering as despair rolls off him in waves, and Sunday removes his face from your shoulder, a cold look of determination staring up at you. “I must protect you, I must shield your happiness too so that we may never suffer again.”

“What?”

His words are incomprehensible to you at this point, and they sound akin to the ramblings of a mad man. “You will never struggle to be happy again, I will give you everything you need- I see it now, Y/n. The strong must guide the weak, for who else will they seek solace in?”

Realisation seeps into your bones like ice. After so many confessionals, so many witnesses of humanity at its most helpless, he has grown nihilistic, devoid of hope towards the resilience of human beings. Still, he yearns to help. Yearns to help people thrive even though he does not truly believe in things getting better, and shoulders this impossible fight by himself. 

The sweet boy you once knew has hardened his defences, fortified his walls and relentlessly chased the most obscure path of Harmony: Order. Destroyed himself under the belief of being responsible for creating a painless reality for humanity, and you witnessed the catalyst for Sunday’s own dismantling whilst he was laid on your lap. 

You haven’t seen him cry since that day. He no longer hides himself behind his wings because he no longer gives himself a moment to mourn. Devastation is engrained in every fibre of his being. 

Now, when he plays the piano for you, you don’t hear the melodic tune of the most important person in your life- you hear a complex piece of toil and struggle. When you sit next to him on the piano stool, you watch the dexterity of his fingers and how his face remains serenely calm whilst playing the hardest sonata known to man, acclimatized to the toughest scenarios that even the polished wood of the piano won’t warp his pristine image. 

Then, when he is finished, you lay your head on his shoulder as you shower him with praises, searching for a familiar fragment of him that you can grasp onto. However, all you find is a shard of bittersweet longing when he turns to place a dainty kiss on the top of your head.

Everyday before the Charmony Festival, you feel like you know him less and less. He won’t even touch the giantmoa pudding tarts you leave on his desk. 

The fourth time you see Sunday cry, he is a changed man.

After exiling himself from Penacony, you naturally grow to ache for his presence. At least Robin has returned to you and will share conversations about the mysterious future of her older brother, sometimes you cry together, over him and also over other things, but at the core of all your emotions is how badly you miss him. You miss him as you overlook Penacony’s Grand Theatre, you miss him in all the old desserts you used to love together, you miss him when you think about him. 

Letters are infrequent and never quite soothe the emptiness, but you hope that in some vast corner of the universe, he is discovering a sense of peace he could never have here. The events of the Charmony Festival still make you cringe, but knowing that he is with the kind souls of the Astral Express relieves you.

In fact, you have half a mind to be rather jealous- you want to be exploring the stars as well.  

However, he comes back to you after countless moons.

You run into him where you least expect to, on the streets of Penacony, under the vibrant advertisements for SoulGlad, Hanu’s Advertisement, and Robin’s latest album. Under the blinding neon monstrosity of Penacony’s main street, you are swept into the arms of a man who you have missed for countless moons, who you have thought of as the weeks turn into months, who you fell in love with since the time he scraped his knee after falling on pavement. 

And this time, he doesn’t cover his eyes as liquid gold drips down his cheek.

You forgot how unfairly pretty of a crier he is, but you don't have time to think about it as he pulls you close and rejoices on your lips. There's a small whimper that escapes you when you feel his tears fall on your skin, but your hands crawl up to the collar of his coat to keep him close so you can keep catching them.

His gloved hands come to rest on your cheeks in kind, stubborn to not let you stray too far again.

He tastes like giantmoa pudding tarts. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper between kisses. 

He responds by pressing you closer and pouring his devotion into your mouth.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[fl3shm4id3n]

Please please please continue your Toxic series. I'm so in love with your work and that is such a good concept. Maybe after the fight in the bathroom, Thanos comes out super bruised and bloody and she takes care of him. Then maybe everyone's forced to play a form of Mingle called Jack & Jill (that whole idea everyone has) where they have to pair up with opposite sexes and there's clearly not enough doors for everyone (and the sexes are super uneven). So there's more weeding out of competition. But its where its just the two of them, they take a pill, and they get freaky in the room while cleaning up the corpses. She's like, "omg what if they're watching." and he's just, "don't worry baby, I won't let them see nothin." and covers her with his jacket.

ɢᴇᴛ ꜱᴛɪᴄᴋʏ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞. 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴏꜱ (ᴄʜᴏɪ ꜱᴇᴜɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ) x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: SMUT, taking substances/drugs, under the influence type sex, swearing, quickies, wall sex, nudity, sex in a closet, somewhat public sex, death and all that.

A/N: I tried reading the Jack and Jill game rules, but I didn't understand a damn thing, so I choose to use the game Hide and Seek, hopefully I didn't disappoint you.

Masterlist

ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ᴀɴʏ ꜰᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ/ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, ꜱᴋᴇᴅᴀᴅᴅʟᴇ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪꜱᴋ.

The next game, but this game would be played in pairs. But it had to be a boy and a girl pair. You were given 10 minutes to find a partner of the opposite sex. You and Thanos were already paired up even before the rules the explained. During the remainder of the time. Thanos had taken a pill, as per usual. You watched as he took a pill in his lips and proceeded to chew it. He then noticed you staring. "You want one?" He asked. "I... I kind of do." You said shyly. Thanos chuckled at your shyness, then he took out a blue pill, then placed it on his tongue. You knew what to do.

You leaned over and kissed him, the kiss was soft and slow, you felt how Thanos tongue slid the blue pill into your lips. He then pulled away and looked at you. "Chew it, the effects will kick in faster." He said, then you proceeded to chew the pill. It had no taste at all. Just tasted like a regular pill, but once the pill became powder, you could taste the small hint of blue raspberry. Interesting. The pill kicked in, he was right. You felt more relaxed now, despite your beat going at a fast pace, you were calm and collected. You turned to look at Thanos. "This is the final game I'm playing, I'm not playing no more games." You told him, slowly almost. "Alright, final game." He said, but you chimed in. "I'm serious. No more games, we are leaving together, alive." You said, almost like a warning. "Okay, whatever you say." He said, as he picked up your hand and kissed your fingers. "Promise." He added.

When the time was up, everyone was escorted to another room. This room was huge, it looked like a the inside of a house. It was huge and pretty specious. It looked just like a house, with stares, rooms, closets and all kinds of things. You found out that it was a form of Hide and Seek, you and your partner had to hide during the count down and you'll be looked for by the guards. If you're not hidden after the countdown or are spotted, you will be eliminated. As soon as the count began, you and Thanos took off to try and find a spot.

Holding each other's hand and not letting go. You spotted a closet, which was empty. "Over here!" You said, as you pulled Thanos towards the closet, once inside you closed the door. Thanos used his body to baricite the door. You were breathing heavily, due to running. You heard the count down going to to 10, 9, 8 and there was people still outside, trying to find a place to hide. The closet was pretty small and there was a small light bulb. But pretty dim and not very bright. The count down was over, them you heard people panicking and screaming as the guards opened fire at them. Killing them.

You sighed, while looking down. But then you felt throbbing between your legs. You pressed your thought together and slightly rub them together. Thanos noticed your movements. "You okay?" He asked you. Then you went up to him and pressed your body against his. "Fuck me." You said, almost demandingly. "What?" He asked, while holding onto your arms. "Fuck me, here and right now." You said, Thanos smirked. "As you wish." He said, then he kissed you right on the lips. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck as you both kissed.

It was fucked up, as people were getting shot outside the room. You and Thanos were about to fuck each other. You pulled away, then took off your sweater, followed by your shirt and bralette. Thanos only took off his sweater, then drove right back into kissing you. You moaned against his lips, you felt how Thanos began to caress your naked waist and back. When he felt the tattoo on your rib, he pulled away, then turned your body carefully to look at it. "Oh, almost forgot about this. He said all cocky and with a smirk. He leaned down and gave it a kiss and a lick. You moaned softly. You then heard how the forklifts were coming with the black and pink coffins. "Hurry, we don't have enough time!" You said.

Then Thanos moved your body onto a wall, your naked chest was pressed against the cold wall. Quickly, he pulled your pants down to your knees, then he pulled his own down. Just enough to set his cock free. He leaned himself into your entrance and pushed himself easily in. Both of you let out a small moan, once Thanos had easily adjusted to your gripping pussy. He began to move his hips at a fast pace. "Fuck!" You moaned against the wall. Thanos continued his pace, stop stopping. He began to kiss your neck from the back, then your shoulder. As for his hands, one had a hold of your breast, pinching your nipple. While the other rubbing your clit.

Your wall clamped tightly around him, almost making it hard for him to thrust. He continued his harsh thrusting and rubbing clit, both fast and hard. They were almost done collecting the bodies outside. You needed to hurry. Thanos groaned and fasten his pace as much as he could. He buried his face onto the back of your shoulder, slightly biting it. Making you clench around him. You were close. "I'm close!" You moaned, Thanos was more busy trying to get you to cum. He put even more effort into rubbing your clit and his pace. The hand that was once in your breast, now hold your hip tightly. You felt his fingers and nails digging into your skin.

Finally, you and Thanos came at the same time. You moaned while he groaned in pleasure. Slowly and carefully he pulled out, looking down he saw his cum going down your leg. That was hot. You shivered slightly, feeling his cum running down your leg. When you got back to your senses. You couldn't help but question. "Wait, what if there's cameras in here and they see us?" You asked, while quickly pulling up your underwear and sweatpants. Thanos did as well. "Don't worry, I won't let them see a thing." He said, grabbing his jacket and put it on you. Then zipped it up, right on time. The door opened, it was a guard with a circle on his mask. "It's safe to come out." He said, you nodded, then grabbed your shirt and bra, quickly stuffing them into the pockets of Thanos sweater. Thanos grabbed your jacket with your number and put it on. As you both walked back to the starting point. You kind of walked weird, you felt Thanos sticky cum sticking to your sweatpants. Thanos noticed and couldn't help but smirk.

[shawtuzi]

HIDE N’ SEEK FT. GOJO SATORU

summary- you and your boyfriend decide to play a little game of hide and seek at a halloween party

content warnings include- modern au, a little plot but mostly smut lmao, oral m!receiving, throat fucking, shoe humping, fingering, a little groping from gojo, sorta needy!gojo but he’s also pretty mean, unprotected sex, rough sex, tongue sucking bc i’m obsessed w it rn, squirting, creampie, geto is a perv, rushed ending, not proofread /// wc: 3.1k

a/n- hi!!! i’m back kinda from my hiatus so pls enjoy this bc idk when the next time i post will be lmao

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

gojo <3: i see you.

your heart rate began to pick up as you read the ominous text from your boyfriend. your eyes looked in every direction hoping to see someone in a ghost face mask on their phone, but unfortunately no such luck.

“why did i agree to do this . . . so stupid,” you grumbled to yourself as you shoved your phone in the back pocket of your sexy nurse costume. to add a little context you and your darling boyfriend, gojo satoru, thought it would be fun to play a little game of hide and seek at the costume party/bonfire one of his friends was throwing. you hide he seeks. the only catch was neither of you could have your location on and you weren’t allowed to tell anyone about the game. all you had to do was make sure gojo didn’t “tag” you before midnight. simple right? not.

you had thought nothing of it when he said he was going to be ghostface come to find out more than half the people at the party were dressed as the masked killer. it was easy to spot you of course—with your skin tight red and white dress and red stockings but trying to decipher which one of these people were gojo was simply impossible.

gojo was standing a few feet away from you, a sinister smile on his lips. he could see how frustrated you were becoming and boy was it a cute sight to see. your brows were furrowed and your red, glossed up lips were pulled into an adorable pout. you had the slightest tinge of fear in your eyes—between that and your costume he was becoming more riled up as the minutes ticked by.

you glanced at your phone—

11:42 PM

only eighteen more minutes and you were golden! you glanced at the part of the woods where it was dark and unoccupied with any party goers, without a second thought began to walk over to finish up the rest of the time. little did you know gojo was trailing behind you, quietly giggling at how silly you were for making this so easy for him.

“s’freezing out here,” your hands rubbed up and down your arms that were now covered in goosebumps. the only sounds that could be heard was the bass of the music from the party and your feet crunching against the dead leaves and twigs on the ground along with—another pair of footsteps???

you whipped around and were met with nothing but the party goers in the distance. you knew it was just a fun little game but you couldn’t help the feeling of dread that overcame you. you had half a mind to text gojo and call off the game but with only ten minutes left you decided to stick it out.

after a minute your phone buzzed in your pocket.

gojo <3- found you :)

“wha-?” all a sudden your front was pushed into a tree, you felt someone’s weight press against you along with something plastic poking against your throat. “i found youuu,” gojo giggled, pressing the plastic knife more into your neck. you pushed your backside into his hard on making him groan right into your ear. “no fair ‘toru…couldn’t find you anywhere with all those people wearing the same costume,” you whined, slick beginning to stain your lacy white panties.

gojo hummed and without a second thought shoved his free glove covered hand into your panties, cupping your sensitive pussy. “c’mon baby you know i don’t like to play fair let’s not act dumb hm?” you couldn’t see his face but you knew just from the tone of his voice he was grinning from ear to ear. gojo used his middle finger to rub at your clit, giving you minor relief while he humped your ass. you both stayed like that for a moment before he began to grow bored.

“suck my dick,” was all he said, removing his hand from your panties much to your dismay. “but—but ‘toru—” you were cut off by gojo squishing your cheeks together roughly. he pushed you down by your shoulders, not caring that the twigs were scraping and poking against your soft skin. (don’t worry he’ll bandage you up later if need be <3)

“now if you recall from earlier..” be began to unbuckle his belt, “we agreed that whoever won got to do whatever they wanted with the loser right?” he waited for you to nod your head before continuing. he slowly unzipped his pants, pulling them and his briefs halfway down his toned thighs. “and who’s the winner?” he giggled, tracing his almost painfully hard dick against your lips. you darted your tongue out to get just a little taste of him, making satoru visibly shudder. “you, you’re the winner,” you mumbled, setting your hands in your lap.

gojo cradled your face his hands, fighting the overwhelming urge to rip off the ghostface mask and kiss you till you were breathless. “don’t look so sad babydoll, i’m about to fuck your throat and your little pussy so good let’s look alive yeah?” he gave your cheek a rough couple of pats. he brought his index and middle finger to your lips, “open your mouth.” you parted your lips and with little to no warning gojo shoved the digits down your throat, impressed that you had kept your gags to a minimum. he rubbed your saliva around the length of his dick and gave himself a few quick strokes before pushing the tip against your lips.

you wrapped your lips around his dick and gojo’s hand immediately found purchase on the back of your head. “yeah . . . jus’ like—fuck, l-like that,” although he was putting on a tough façade for the sake of the situation it was fading away quicker than he had anticipated. you were just so good with your mouth :(

you didn’t even care that you lost, now too enamored in the pretty sounds that were slipping past gojo’s lips. and you both certainly didn’t care that anyone could possibly catch you in the act. “i need to record this shit goddamn,” with shaky hands gojo held up his phone and started to record you, quietly apologizing for the sudden flash of light in your face. you played it out a little for the camera knowing gojo was definitely going to use this vid for times when he’s by himself. you wrapped both of your hands around his dick and worked quick pumps around the tip while your other hand moved slowly up and down the base.

satoru felt his knees buckle a little when you started sucking on his balls, nearly dropping his phone in the process. “you’re s-so fuckin’ hot, so hot n’ a-all mine yeah? please say it,” he didn’t give the slightest fuck how pathetic he sounded. all needed in this moment was for you to tell him his dick belonged to you and you only and vice versa. “yes toru all yours,” you hummed leaving kisses around the base of his dick. that was all he needed to hear before he tossed his phone to the side and began to brutally fuck your poor little throat.

each time your nose pressed against his pelvis from deep throating him it just gave him more incentive to put a fat rock on your finger and never let you go. your dress had ridden up and without even thinking gojo pressed the top of his shoe against your cunt making your hips jerk forward. “hump it, hump my fuckin’ shoe and cum from it,” his ‘demand’ was shaky and breathless but nonetheless you listened to your boyfriend and started humping his shoe.

between gojo still ruthlessly fucking your throat and the laces of his shoe rubbing deliciously against your clit you were overstimulated beyond belief—and it felt incredible. he loved when he could turn your brain into a pile of mush and you enjoyed it just as much. after holding your head firmly against his pelvic area for god knows how long gojo removed your mouth from his dick, finally letting you get some air. you didn’t know if it was alcohol, the blunt you took a few hits of, or just horniness in its purest form but you were feeling insatiable.

you wrapped your arms around his thick thigh and planted your knees firmly into the ground before moving your hips with quickness. gojo was surprised at your actions, his dick visibly twitching at you getting off on his fucking shoe of all things. “i’m—i’m close, can feel it toru i’m—o-oh my!” a sharp gasp left your lips when gojo began tapping his foot just the slightest. “jerk me off n’ let’s cum together,” you didn’t need to be told twice as you wrapped your hand around the base of his dick, suckling on the tip as well to bring him even closer to his peak (and to avoid getting cum in your face/hair heh).

you both came in unison a chorus of moans and groans leaving both of your mouths. “that—that was good, you’re so good y/n c’mere,” gojo was quick to pull you to your feet and pushed your back right against the tree that was shielding you both from any potential spectators. “i wanna kiss you so bad,” he spoke softly, cupping and massaging your breasts over your thin dress. “but i really wanna fuck you with this stupid mask on,” gojo gripped your plush thighs and lifted you up with ease, you weren’t even the littlest but surprised when his impatient ass practically ripped your panties in half trying to get them off.

“put it in for me,” gojo muttered, blindly shoving your tattered panties in his back pocket. you complied whispering out a little ‘anything for you toru’ before slowly swiping his sensitive tip between your pillowy soft folds. just as you were about to slide him in you heard voices and footsteps that sounded like they were getting closer and closer. “w-wait someone’s coming!” you whisper-shouted but that didn’t stop gojo from pushing his dick into you with one swift thrust. a broken moan emerged from your throat and you were quick your cover your mouth with both hands.

“put your fuckin’ hands down no one’s gonna see us,” gojo hissed, his toes curling from how tight and hot you felt. you hastily removed your hands making gojo smile behind the mask. “they might not s-see but they’ll—hah! hear us toruuu,” you whined burying your face in his neck.

gojo made sure your legs were securely wrapped around his waist before yanking the ghostface mask off, he pressed his lips against yours without missing a beat. “guess i’ll just have to keep kissin’ ya to make sure you don’t make to much noise yeah?”

“yeah . . . . you’re right.”

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“do—do you guys *hiccup* here that?” a drunk, poor unknowing geto slurred out, his brows furrowing at the sound of grunts coming from the darker part of the woods. of course no one responded, too invested in literally anything else besides geto’s drunk ramblings—plus his jason mask muffled anything he had to say.

geto pushed himself up from the log he was sitting on, nearly falling over in process. “guess i’ll go look myself…dickheads,” he muttered to himself, making his way over to the suspicious noises. he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a particularly loud groan and that’s when it started to click. “holy shit . . . h-holy sh—”

“satoruuu!”

if geto was in his right state of mind he would’ve turned around with a quickness and forget this ever happened—but he’s not. his feet stayed planted, not daring move an inch closer. he hadn’t even realized be was starting to palm himself over his pants—already half hard. he could feel his heart in his throat as he took one step forward . . . and then another . . . anddd another.

he stopped once he could clearly hear the schlick schlick schlick noise of gojo pounding mercilessly into your poor pussy. he couldn’t see much but he could hear everything. he could hear your cute little pants and whines as you tried to poorly keep quiet, he could hear gojo muttering what must have been dirty promises into your ear, but in his opinion the best thing he heard was how sloppily you and gojo were kissing.

anytime your moans were becoming louder and more high pitched gojo would smash his lips into yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth without warning. gojo sucked your tongue into his mouth, a groan rumbling in his chest when he felt you tighten around him. “you taste like alcohol . . . you been drinking tonight love? is t-that why you’re being so—hah! fuckin’ loud? hm?” his ring and middle finger began toying with your clit and your lips started to tremble. hot, salty tears began to run down your cheeks making gojo giggle. “you’re s’cute when you cry, please cry more for me,” he cooed licking at the never ending stream of tears flowing from soon to be bloodshot eyes.

“you’re—you’re such a *sniffle* p-perv ‘toru,” you whined, tangling your fingers in his snow white locks. when you have a particularly harsh tug gojo’s knees buckled the tiniest bit, nearly making him lose his balance. “i see you’re feeling pretty mean huh? lets fix that . . . only thing i need you to feel is numb.” gojo removed his fingers from your clit and without warning shoved the digits between your lips. man oh man did you wish he would’ve taken those stupid gloves off, what you really needed in this moment was the feeling of gojo’s soft fingertips prodding at the back of your throat.

gojo slowed the pace of his thrusts, more focused on fucking your throat with his fingers. once he had his fix he removed his fingers from your mouth, smearing any excess saliva on your lips and chin. he slowly pulled his dick out, the moonlight mixed with the dim light from the bonfire making him glisten with your slick.

“n-no! no no don’t do that here someone will definitely hear me ‘toru,” you pouted, knowing good and well what gojo’s intentions were. gojo hummed as he rubbed his fingers between your soaked folds, pretending to to thinking about the consequences of his actions before giggling once more. “oh well!” he smiled, inserting his fingers into your pussy, immediately finding that spot that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“god do you hear how wet you are? such a slutty fuckin’ pussy goddamn,” gojo growled, adding his thumb to the mix by rubbing your almost painfully sensitive clit. you didn’t know how the fuck he was holding you so steady with one arm but you couldn’t even bother to care, too focused on your upcoming orgasm. “p-please . . . please add ‘nother finger ‘toru i need it,” you gasped loudly, back arching against the tree when you felt gojo begin to suck at your breasts over the thin material of your dress. gojo added another finger, increasing his pace until he felt your legs begin to shake.

he brought his lips close to your ear, nibbling and sucking at the lobe. “you’re so lucky we have to walk in front of everyone once we’re done or i would’ve torn this dress to pieces,” his words had your toes curling, and your eyes rolling back for the umpteenth time as your pussy squeezed around his fingers.

while you were quickly chasing your peak geto was trying his absolute hardest not to reach his just yet. his pants were pulled down just enough to let his aching dick out and he wasted no time stroking himself to your pretty moans.

it was no secret to the three of you that geto had found you attractive—shit with the way gojo boasts about your guys’ sex life how could he not be curious??? yes curiosity. that’s all that this was. once he got off he would walk away and never think or speak of it ever. but he couldn’t help but think of the next time he sees you walking around with a limp and accidentally starts to wonder what positions gojo could’ve possible put you in . . . or wonder how brutally he had fucked your throat when he hears how hoarse your voice sounds.

his thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched moan that was quickly cut off by what he assumed was gojo’s lips on yours. he heard gojo say in a teasing tone ‘you tryin’ to baptize me over here?’ and he nearly cummed imagining your fucked out face and trembling legs.

a spurt of cum landed on your thigh and gojo tsked, shaking his head. “that won’t do, gotta be inside you now so i can finish inside,” he hummed, realigning his dick with your entrance. he pushed in with one swift thrust and that’s when your finally felt your brain turn into a muddled pile of nothing but lust and want. although it was dark gojo could still see the dazed look in your eyes and it brought a blissed out smile to his lips, which were now stained red from your lip gloss.

“c’mon baby talk to me, how do you feel?” gojo purred, pressing his forehead against yours. your words kept getting caught in your throat and all you could mutter out was a pathetic ‘feels s’gooood’. gojo could slowly feel himself begin to crumble, mumbling out incoherent sentences along with you. “i know baby i—shit, i know. feel so good ‘round me, so perfect you’re so perfect gimme a kiss,” he smushed his lips against yours with a clash of tongue and teeth—his fav kinda kisses.

“gotta big load for you baby, c’mon cum with me i know you can do it,” gojo’s words of encouragement finally brought you to your peak and this time you both just let it out. every pushed down moan and groan could be heard from anywhere if anyone paid close enough attention but neither of you could find it in you to care. gojo’s hips stilled as he emptied himself inside you, his tongue lolling out in the process. you were quick to bring your hands to his soft locks, gently scratching his scalp. “don’t do that, gonna make me too tired for the drive home,” he chuckled, giving your sweaty neck a sloppy kiss.

“speaking of, how am i supposed to walk with all this in me it’s a lot satoruuu,” you whined, feeling the urge to smack gojo on the back of the head for tearing your panties in two. gojo sighed, stroking your bare thigh gently with his thumb muttering something along the lines of ‘i’ll handle it’.

while you and gojo took a minute to regroup from your intense fuck session, geto was regrouping himself from possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. of course he felt disgusted with himself for spying on his best friend fucking his girlfriend but he also wanted more???

this was definitely going to be a problem.

[lscullzthegreat]

Maedhros headcanons because I can actually be sad all the time

He did ballet (or whatever the middle earth equivalent) and he was good, really good. he transferred the skills he learned dancing into sword fighting until little by little he began to focus on fighting alone.

He's shockingly quiet for his size, he can enter a room unnoticed until he speaks, he's even snuck up on Maglor and Celegorm on occasion. The only person who's never been surprised by his presence is Fingon.

Oh my god his laugh, it's rich and warm, it fills a room lifting above everyone else's voice, its the first thing you hear from outside the room, when you've heard it once you'd do nearly anything to hear it again. (it was a far rarer thing to hear after angband and it went away entirely when the twins were sent to Gil Galad)

He stopped going by Matimo entirely after Angband.

Exactly three people have ever seen him genuinely angry, Celegorm (who walked away shaking and close to tears) after Luthien. Fëanor during a fight they had when he was younger. and Fingon over an argument neither of them speak about.

He loved both Elrond and Elros dearly but he was closer with Elros and he gave him the sword he would carry into battle for the rest of his life.

Celegorm was his baby, Maglor was too close to him in age, and he took care of the others when they were small, but Celegorm was the first one he thought of as HIS baby, that's what he held onto up to Doriath.

He had a soft spot for both Aredhel and Galadriel and spoiled them absolutely rotten anytime he got to see them.

he used to organize massive games of hide and seek for all of his siblings and cousins so they had something do while the adults dealt with state matters

(he tried to play with Elx2 when they were little and had to call the game off almost immediately, it reminded him too much of looking for two different dark haired twins years ago)

[writingsbychlo]

HIDE AND SEEK | mattheo riddle

summary; you and mattheo play a little game on hallowe’en.

word count; 9058

notes; don’t forget to check out the sister fic to this one by @azrielscrown, we did a lil joint thing, and you can see me making some cameos if you wanna hang out 😉 we’ve been keeping this lil secret for WEEKS and I’m so happy we can finally share it with you all <3

“Sit still, will you?” Your giggle echoed off of the stone walls in Mattheo’s bathroom. He scoffed, shuffling between his feet once again. 

“S’not my fault it tickles! I don’t know how you girls do this every day, don’t the brushes make you want to sneeze?” His nose scrunched up as he spoke, but he let you continue to set the wet paint around his face with powder. His eyes focused on you, you could feel the stare as you observed the photograph he was holding up, a cut-out piece of a magazine. “You’re pretty when you’re focused.”

“And you’re distracting me,” You switched brushes, slapping at his hand as his fingers began to tease at your thigh. Returning it to its place on the counter beside your thigh, he shuffled between your legs impatiently once again, and pouted. “I can’t do your makeup like that. Smooth your face out.”

“Kiss.”

“Mattheo—”

“Kiss!” He repeated, and the smile you wore was against your control as you leaned in, pecking his lips softly, doing your best not to smudge the makeup you’d already applied around the centre of his face. It was too short and chaste for his liking, that much was clear when you pulled away as he licked at your lower lip, a whine coming from him as he chased you forward, only to be foiled by a chuckle, and a hand on his chest.

“I’m not redoing this for you if you make a mess of it! I don’t have time, I still have to get ready myself. Party starts in less than an hour, you know.”

“I know.” Mattheo grouched, smoothing his features out as you ran a thumb over his lips, refocusing on painting the skeletal features onto his face. “Y’know, you still haven’t told me what your costume is going to be.”

“You’d know if you’d gone for a couples costume with me. Stop moving your mouth.”

“That’s not fair!” He cringed and the brush slipped right into his mouth, leaving a streak of wet paint across his tongue, and you raised your brows. “I had to go with the boys, I couldn't be the only one who didn’t join in!”

“I’m messing with you, honey. Now, stop talking.” He merely grumbled behind closed lips, but his eyes were sparkling. He remained still and quiet, letting you paint the final pieces of his makeup around his mouth, stretching the creepy, toothy grin across his cheeks. Plucking the picture from his fingers and holding it up, you glanced a few times between it and your boyfriend, shrugging with a sigh. “That’s as good as it’s gonna’ get.”

Standing straight and moving to the mirror, his jaw dropped a little, hand rising but fingers never quite touching his face, tipping his head side to side to observe it. “Damn, baby, this is better than just ‘good’, it’s great!”

“Yeah? Good enough for your little boy’s night scare fest?”

“Don’t call it that, but yes.” Reaching for his hand, you tugged him back toward you, standing him before you and shaking the bottle in your hand. “What’s that?”

“Special setting spray. Close your eyes.” He did as told, eyes closing as you unpopped the lid. “I warn you, it may take some serious scrubbing after this to get the paint off, might leave some stains.”

“Wait, what—” You sprayed it across his face, and a choked sound between a gag and a cough left him as you covered his skin in a thick layer of the spray. Flapping your hand over his face to help his glistening skin dry, his frown deepened, hands reaching for you blindly, and gripping your hips. “I feel like my eyelids just got glued shut.”

“You’re so dramatic.” He cracked his eyes back open, several blinks and a few funny faces to adjust the stiffness, before he was tapping lightly at his skin, fingers pulling away clean. “You should still be careful with it, but it should hold. Just don’t… rub your face, or get any drinks thrown at it by scared party-goers.”

“Always ruining my fun.” Mattheo’s wistful sigh had you laughing once again, slipping down from the counter and slipping your hands under the edge of his baggy shirt. Lifting it up carefully and guarding his face, he raised his arms up, helping to slip off the shirt without disturbing the makeup on his face, leaving it heaped next to the paints and brushes on the counter. “Always helping me out.”

“Yes, well, someone’s got to keep your hopeless arse out of bother.” You leaned in, placing a kiss on his chest. “What does the rest of this group costume consist of?”

“Suits. Not sure whose choice that was, probably Dray’s one condition on joining in.” Pretty brown eyes rolled at his friend, even if his lips were raised in a wide smile. “I’ll get ready, and then we can go to your dorm and get you all ready before meeting the rest?”

“I’ll go start getting ready now, while you do. Save some time.” He only hummed, your heart skipping a single beat as the first deception of the night passed seamlessly through your lips. 

“Alright, I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

You only nodded, pecking his lips delicately one more time, before slipping from his arms, out of his dorm and into the corridors. Your feet were moving fast, like a sprint through the halls towards your own dorm. Fifteen minutes was barely enough time to grab the things you need and escape from the Slytherin dorms without your boyfriend seeing you. You dragged out the bag you’d already packed from under your bed, and the pre-written note you’d hidden in your bedside drawer. 

His name was written neatly across the front, and you flipped it open, double-checking the message inside. In perfect, neat cursive;

‘Find me before midnight xo’

Folding it back up and propping it on the bed where you knew he’d see it, you eyed it for a second. Putting down your bag and rooting through, you gave your lips a half-hearted swipe of red lipstick, blotting them for a second before pressing a kiss to the note over his name, a single clue to start the game, before returning it to its spot. 

With that, you were off, leaving your dorm unlocked and enchanted, for his entry and his entry alone.

The common room was packed with groups gathered, ready to leave for the Weasley twins’ party, making it easy for you to blend in and disappear. The halls were just as busy, decorated and overflowing with chatter, the castle ghosts crowding and gathering happily to add to the atmosphere. 

Everyone else seemed to be heading down and out, leaving you as one of the few people heading up, to the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor. It was empty as you arrived, the sound of your bag hitting the floor creating an echo to bounce off of the walls. 

Tugging on your costume only took minutes, stashing your clothes back in the bag and leaving it open as you fished through for your makeup kit. It was as you were leaning across the sink, one eye closed as you swept eyeliner into a sharp point in one corner that the door crashed open once again. Jess stumbled through it, arms full of whatever costume the Weasley boys had forced upon her, and you stood straight up, trying not to blink and smear the wet liner before it dried. 

“Pushing it late, huh? Party starts in fifteen minutes!”

“Don't remind me…” Jess shucked off her robes, dumping the cloak on top of your empty bag, and beginning to undo the buttons of her shirt as you turned back to the mirror once again. 

When you were satisfied with your makeup, two sharp wings on either side and red lips to match your dress, you gave a happy nod to your reflection. With a few minutes to spare and a bottle of nail polish waiting to be used, you hopped up onto the sink. Costume now donned, Jess was lacing up heeled boots that reached all the way to her thighs. 

“Are you trying to scare the masses, or seduce them?” With only a sly smirk of her own in return, Jess made her way to the mirror beside yours, plucking the red lipstick from your makeup bag. 

“I’m supposed to be a bloodthirsty sorceress,” Popping the cap, she applied a coat. “Know any men who wouldn't mind having their hearts ripped out?”

“A few. The boys will be in skull makeup tonight, so aim for them first.” Your legs swung as you chuckled at her statement, focused on the brush moving across your nails. You wondered just how many of the boys were ready, and what Mattheo was doing right now. Surely, he’d already be on the hunt. “Save the curly one for me, though.”

Jess only beamed in response. “You’ve sent Riddle out on that wild goose chase yours, then?” 

You shrugged, ever the picture of easiness as you blew on your wet nails to dry them. “He’s got until midnight to find me.”

Excited knots twisted at your stomach with the mere thought, the thrill of the cat-and-mouse chase. It would likely drive Mattheo insane, knowing you were toying with him as he searched. “What happens when the clock strikes twelve?” 

“Let's just say, that I’m fully prepared to live up to my house name, and let him slither in.”

Zipping your makeup bag up with the nail polish inside, you packed all of the clothes into your bag, stashing it behind one of the sinks. “At least one of us is having fun tonight.”

Oh, that was no doubt. You weren’t sure ‘fun’ was even a fair word to use, knowing that the way you were riling your boyfriend up was more like a first-class ticket to seeing Heaven. “Who says you can’t? You may owe Fred a favour, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cause a little trouble.”

Jess shared a devious smile, sliding a gold mask into place as you slipped your own red one on to match, “I like the way you think.”

Placing the final part of your costume onto your head, the small horns on the headband complete your ‘devil’ look, and you hopped down to join her.

With your arm linked through your friend’s, the two of you set off. At the pathway marked as the beginning of the no-doubt terrifying journey ahead, Jess split off, a wink in your direction as you blew a kiss in hers, wishing her luck on the night of haunting ahead, mind set on your own task. 

Mattheo had told you where the boys all planned to meet, leaving you plenty of time to slip into the throng of people and disappear into the masses. Your plan: to remain hidden in plain sight.

Weaving through the crowds, eyes scanning over every person there, it wasn’t long until you spotted your boyfriend. Leaning against the trunk of a tree, flanked by only Enzo and Draco so far, he was already searching for you amongst the hordes. You followed closely behind a group, slipping into their ranks seamlessly, as Mattheo’s focus moved across you, flickering over the group and dismissing them quickly as strangers. A spark of excitement shot along your spine. 

Just like that, you were walking straight past him. Your cover merely being that of standing among people you didn’t even know meant letting him look right through you like fog in the early morning. 

Slipping inside one of the hidden walkways, darkness encased you, hiding you from view as all the horrors and thrills Fred and George had managed to create took place. 

Actors in costumes, enchantments to create realistic scenes, and laughter poured from your lips as much as screams did, your heart was pounding as you cleared the tunnel minutes later.

Surrounding the clearing on all sides were various attractions. How they’d managed to pull all this together, you had no idea, but the twins never failed to impress you. Several hexed bonfires filled the clearing, a hazy setting washing over your skin from that very first sniff of woody smoke pulled into your lungs. 

A haunted hayride, pulled along no doubt by the thestrals that Luna seemed so fond of took off on your right, a speakeasy-style building to the left, a haunted house with screams filling the chill night air right before you. Bobbing for apples, a spooky corn maze with moving scarecrows, everything that would send chills down your spine. 

Mattheo and the boys would likely catch up any moment, more visitors pouring in around where you’d paused at the end of the tunnel to admire, so you spurred yourself into action. The night couldn't end just yet, you still had hours of fun ahead of you. 

Angling yourself towards the speakeasy first, you stepped through the door, the subtle smell of gin and perfumed musk washing over your senses as you stepped up to the twisted staircase, flickering lights disappearing into darkness before your very eyes. 

Down, down, down, you moved. Swallowed whole by the shadows, your shaky laughter would doubtless have clouded your breath with the sudden chill that took you over, so dark for a moment you couldn't even see your hand before your face. Then, just as your hand skimmed towards your wand for a Lumos spell, a curtain swept aside, a couple stumbling out between fits of tipsy giggles, guiding you with flashes of coloured lights and the beat of unconfined music. 

The moment you were inside, all silencing spells wore off, blinding lights flashed across the dance floor, with the music that was pounding through the room so deep the base travelled up your legs. The floor was packed, everybody dancing to their heart’s content, and those who weren’t were gathered around small tables for card games, or crowding the bar. 

It wasn’t long until you located a group of your friends, some with their dates, some solo, and you were quickly immersed under the cover of the group. The beat had your eyes slipping closed, rhythm flowing through you as your body swayed. A drink was pressed into your hand by a friend, the fruity taste coating your tongue and leaving your body in a numb haze. 

You had to say, you were impressed by the effort the twins had gone to. Despite the student-body having only found out about this party a few weeks ago, you knew for them to have pulled this off, they’d have to have been planning since Valentine’s Day. Songs passed by in a blur of dancing and more drinks, a shot came soon, so spicy your eyes watered and throat stung, only soothed by the lime you were handed to follow. 

Wiping a stray droplet of juice from under your lip as you pulled the slice away, you almost missed the flash of skull makeup and blond hair in your peripheral. Draco was on the dance floor, making his way across, a smirk on his lips as a hand with manicured nails reached out to clasp his tie, trying to tug him into a dance. 

You didn’t have to search for long to find the face you knew so well, the one you’d painted yourself only a couple of hours prior, also on the dance floor. Hands reached for him too, trying to pull him this way and that, but he wasn’t stopped. No, he was searching. Looking at every face with your hair colour, checking under masks and turning dancers around despite their protests, just to rule them out from the game. 

And he was heading right for you. 

Spinning away from him, you ducked across towards a friend, her arms looping around your body as you neared, none the wiser to the game you were playing, and the distraction she provided. Swaying your body with her own, you pushed your lips close to her ear, watching Mattheo over her shoulder. “I need another drink, you want one?”

She only shook her head, released you near the back of the group and let herself get swept back up, as you were hidden away behind the crowd, sneaking towards the bar. 

Padma and her sister were serving quickly, wands in hand as they floated several cups through the air all at once. Slices of fruit and cubes of ice drop, tinkling into plastic cups ready for them to fill.

Flagging down one of the twins, a shaky breath of pure excitement leaves you, as you turn your focus back to your boyfriend. He looks like he’d been having fun. A little dishevelled, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his tie loosened, smudges of dirt and glitter on his clothes from wherever he and his boys had been playing, scaring unsuspecting patrons and gathering screams. 

His hair was no longer the neat style he’d doubtless have gelled it into, the stands messy from running his fingers through it, and curls beginning to form in the heat of the bar. A single curl fell across his forehead, brushing through the paint, and your fingers itched to brush it out of his eyes, like always. 

He’d reached the group now, searching idly in the area you’d been occupying, not finding you where you’d once been, chasing only steps behind and having no idea. 

The visible frustration he wore gave you a cocky smile, a rush of pride filing you up, watching as he made to move on, to more fruitless endeavours.

Then, a hand shot out. 

A hand in a black lace glove, attached to a girl in a full-body leather jumpsuit, hugging every inch of her body, the little cat ears you knew well. A member of your former dance group, poking up into the air. Pulling him to a stop, he bowed his head, lips moving and a conversation you couldn't hear taking place, and his head snapped up in your direction. 

For a second, your breath caught, swearing he almost looked right at you as he scanned his gaze over the bar. Someone had told him you’d been there, that you’d headed for the bar, and he filled with renewed vigour, eyes twinkling with mischief even from this distance. 

Motioning to Draco— who now had the rest of the owner of that manicured hand wrapped around him— to head to the bar, he moved like a man whom wild horses wouldn't be able to stop. The crowd parted around him as he moved, leaving nobody in his wake, not until he was right up to the bar at the other end. He motioned for one of the twins to take his order. 

Padma finally arrives to take your drink request, your order only adding to the floating display over their heads, and the display is utterly mesmerising. Much like the floating candles in the Grand Hall, light shimmers and reflects through every drink and piece of glass, light bursting out across the room. 

Following one trail of light, you spot Jess entering the bar, followed quickly in tow by someone in matching skull makeup, this one with shaggy blonde hair, his eyes locked on her like she’s the only girl in the room. You quirk a brow, sealing that little piece of information away for later.

You’re so caught up with your people-watching that you almost forget the game afoot, that Mattheo is so close, until the rough grate of his voice only a few seats down breaks you from your reverie. Snapping your eyes to him, he’s leaning on one arm, back to you as his focus scans out across the crowd. Somewhere on the dance floor is Enzo, you’re sure, and Draco has his lips on the neck of his mystery girl, completely ignoring Mattheo’s summons to the bar. You know where Theo’s interests lay, and you’re not sure where Pansy and Blaise will have snuck off too, likely some dark corner where they won’t be seen.

Your boyfriend was the only one in the group not dancing tonight, something that had you smirking. Swiping up your drink and bringing the straw to your lips, you admired his jawline as he stretched his head, once again searching. That was until a girl in a tight black dress and black feathered angel wings made her way over to him, clearing her throat lightly to bring back his attention as he continued the hunt. 

“Hi, Mattheo. Over here all alone, why aren’t you out there—”

“I have a girlfriend.” His curt response was flat and bored, and you almost snorted some of your drink trying not to laugh. Her expression wavered, a pout forming on her lips as she tried again, undeterred, reaching out to take the end of his tie between two fingers. 

“I don’t see her.”

Smoothing his hand down his front to remove his tie from her hold, he scoffed, shaking his head; “Neither do I, that’s the damn problem.”

This time, you were too slow in holding back your laughter, the sound bursting from you against your control. You hoped the music would cover it, but Mattheo heard it, whipping his head around in your direction, as he began to analyse every person at your end of the bar. 

Taking your drink and quickly ducking behind a man dressed as the Phantom at the Opera, you ducked and dove between people, daring a look back at the bar to see Mattheo stood where you had once been, looking amongst the people, but thankfully, not in your current direction. 

Glancing around for some quick cover, you spotted Jess, making your way over to her and watching as the boy she was with parted with a lingering kiss to her cheek. She clocked your approach, a wide smile bursting free on her lips, and her hands reached for you, tugging you into a dance with her as soon as you were near enough. 

“I take it Riddle hasn’t found you yet?”

“No, but he’s close.” You have to shout over the music, tipping your head in the direction you last saw him. She glances over your shoulder toward the bar, where her dance partner seems to have found himself too, along with the others.

“Gettin’ colder, he and Draco are heading toward the exit.” Spinning you around smoothly, a smirk pulled on your lips. A determined-looking Mattheo began to chase a cold lead, the unsuspecting girl who did look rather like you from behind leading him off-course. 

Twisting back to face her, your brow hitched up as the mystery man began to make his return, two new drinks in hand. “Is that Theodore Nott you’re flirting with?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” It was her turn to smirk, shrugging and brushing her hair from her shoulders. “He doesn't know it’s me, though, so if he asks you, you have no idea who I am tonight.”

“My lips are sealed.”

With a final wink, you slipped away, knowing she’d only be alone for a second before your boyfriend’s best friend was all over her once again. Following in the direction Mattheo had just left, you reentered the dark halls. The glow of his and Draco’s wands ahead, that and their murmured chatter bouncing from the walls, was your pin-point to follow through the new maze of tunnels. 

Too busy looking ahead, he had no idea you were right behind him. 

Hands reached out, faces flashing before your eyes as actors and other fear-mongers stalked the dark tunnels, and if it wasn’t for your boyfriend’s light ahead, you’d have screamed and given yourself away a long time ago. When you reached the central clearing once again, it was even busier than it had been before, you emerged not long after the boys, from a hidden alcove between the cornfield maze and a stand selling hot cider. 

Mattheo and Draco were gone, disappearing faster into the masses than you could comprehend, likely to find more of their little group, and you grabbed a cider, digging a galleon out of your pocket and tossing it into the collection jar, before taking a stroll around the maze. It was in there that you found Pansy and Blaise, hidden away in a darkened corner, just as you suspected. 

Both had swollen lips and glossy eyes when you cleared your throat at them, grinning at the blush spreading across your friend’s pale cheeks, as Blaise only smirked. 

“Ah, well, look who it is.” He mused, covering Pansy as she attempted to adjust her costume once again, and your laughter wasn’t lost on her, only getting flipped off as she tried to pull the corset top back up over her bra. “By your absence of lover boy, I take it Mattheo hasn’t found you yet?”

“So, he’s told you about the little game I’ve laid out, has he?”

“Oh, absolutely. We have a little bet going. By all means, keep this up, you have me winning. I bet he wouldn't find you at all.” Your head tipped to the side, a little sip of your hot cider as you considered his words, before Pansy was snatching it from your hand, sniffling it, and taking a gulp. 

“You bet against him?”

“Of course, look at you. Over halfway through the night and he still hasn’t found you. Pansy, on the other hand…” He teased, and she smacked at his arm. You gasped.

“Pans, you bet against me? And to think, I was sharing my drink with you.” Snatching it back, she pouted, but shrugged.

“Hey, nothing against you. He just had better odds, he’s recruited everyone to help him find you!”

“And a marvellous job you’re all doing of that. Tell me, did you find me hiding behind Blaise’s tonsils?” Her cheeks went red again, along with a burst of deep laughter from the other culprit that had him clutching his stomach. She shushed him quickly, despite the silencing spells cast over the maze for an added air of creepiness. 

“Well, here you are, are you not?”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes fondly, stepping away from the pair. “I’ll let you get back to your intense searching. Don’t tell Matty you saw me!”

And with that, you slipped back into the darkness, the bushes around you rustling and creaking as they changed with every step you took. It wasn’t until you’d successfully given up, growing bored as the chill of mist rose goosebumps on your skin that the hexed forestry finally freed you, a pathway clearing and opening up ahead of you to release you back to the party. 

Seeking the moon in the sky, you found it not long until midnight, Blaise had told no lie, your game coming closer and closer to the end, where you would be crowned the winner. Taking a seat before the fireplace, you settle in to watch the flames, and peer around to spot your hunter. 

There. It only took a second to find him but there he was, a little clearing across the way, leaning against some haybales with a blunt balanced between two fingers. Bringing it back to his lips, he took a drag, smoke filtering out into the cold air and obscuring his face, before passing the roll to Draco. 

When the smoke cleared, his eyes locked on your own. 

Just a second. A moment across the field, so far away, but he knew. Your breath hitched, his back straightened. Then he was moving, without even warning the rest of the group, he was taking long strides across the field, closing the distance between you both, and adrenaline surged through your system as you shot to your feet. 

Your closest building was the haunted house, his eyes narrowing, a silent warning when a smile curved on your lips, already knowing your next move. 

You bolted, a giggle breaking free as the true chase began, and he called your name, the sound lost amongst the chatter and amusement of everyone else gathered around. Slipping through the hoards of people, you stumbled through the front door, watching as Mattheo rounded the porch, trying to snake his way through to catch up. 

A kaleidoscope of colours, screams and shouts and music, different rooms with every theme as you were ushered through in a rush, the whole attraction feeling like a fever dream as you searched for the exit. The game was reaching its peak, midnight neared, the moon called it into the sky, and being so close to the last moments, you were determined to win. 

Stumbling out into the cold night air once again, you headed for the tree-line, secluded enough that you could lean on the thick trunk of an old oak. You watched the entrance to the haunted house, a red-painted lip caught between your teeth, eager for him to emerge in your wake.

You waited. 

Waited.

Seconds ticking by, and the thunderous race of your heart in the moment finally began to slow. Gasping breaths became softer pants, calling to you the silence of the world around you when blood was no longer pumping in your ears. 

A twig snapped behind you, and before you could turn to acknowledge the sound, a hand was sealing over your mouth, an arm banded around your waist, dragging you back into the darkness. 

Spun around in their arms, your panic lasted barely a second, before soft lips were pressing firmly to your own, the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and woodsy cologne filling your senses. Your arms came up, gripping him just as tightly as he walked you backwards, pressing you to a tree as he left a dozen kisses on your lips, longing and loving after hours apart.

“You’re a little minx, do you know that?”

“Actually, I’m a little devil.” You snickered, hands on his chest to push him back enough to look down at your outfit, motioning to the horns still on your head. “See?”

“I see it, baby. I have to say, I love this costume.” His hand fell to your thigh, callouses scraping across soft skin until he found the short hem, tugging and twisting the flowing skirt around his fingers. “I’ve been searching every girl for red lipstick all night, thanks to your little clue. Should have known you’d be decked out in all red, too. Standing out, right there, the whole time.”

His mouth descended upon your own once again, a happy sound rumbling in the back of his throat as you kissed back just as eagerly, one hand sliding up into his hair. His hand squeezed at your thigh, slipping back down as far as your knee, only to hike your leg up around his hip, shocking you into a gasp.

“I’ve been running around all night trying to find you, and you were right under my nose the whole time, weren’t you?”

His kisses descended to your neck, a shaky sound slipping free as his teeth teased a spot on your jaw that made you tremble, gripping tighter to his suit for stability. Your breath was shaky as you spoke, desperate to reclaim some power, despite the way he was undoing you already, “What, you didn’t like my little game?”

“Oh, I loved your little game, baby. But, I think I just won. It’s a few minutes to midnight.” Licking a stripe across the underside of your jaw, you mewled, head tipping back against the tree, hips bucking up to meet his own, and he grunted. “What’s my prize?”

His gaze came back up, dark and challenging and sultry as he stared down at you, smirking. Licking across one red lip, his attention focused there, his own lips parting, getting closer, needy for another taste. “The second part of the costume, of course.”

Gripping his wrist and sliding it up and under your skirt, his fingertips smoothed over the lace of your panties. He didn’t hold back his groan, gripping your ass tightly in his hand and tugging you forward to rub against him once again. “Red, I assume?”

“Smart boy.”

“My dorm?” He whispered, forehead falling to your own, a needy sound your only form of reply as your hips rolled together, friction dragging and sparking heat across your body. 

“What, you want to leave the party already?”

Your teasing words weren’t appreciated if the squeeze to your rear was any indication. “Game is over, don’t play with me anymore, my love. I need you, now.”

“Then let's go.”

The two of you stumbled along, barely keeping your hand to yourself as you hurried back through the woods, avoiding the crowds and teasing whistles of your friends by taking a more covert route instead. You certainly weren’t the only ones with the same thoughts, various couples were dotted through the woods, wandering hands and desperate kisses exchanged behind the trees and throughout the branches. 

His hand was tight around yours, tugging you along with his pace, but when he stopped short, you almost crashed straight into his back. Following his line of sight, you huffed, pushing him with a hand on his back to get his feet moving again. 

“Is that Theo over there, zipping his pants back up? Who’s he out here with?”

“You want gossip, or you want sex, Matt?” His body jolted at the insinuation, feet stumbling over one another as he picked the pace again. Guiding the two of you through one of the tunnels he had likely discovered during his night of scaring, the two of you paced back through the speakeasy. 

Up the haunted stairs. 

Through the woods. 

Along the halls.

Past the common room.

And then, he was backing you up against his dorm door, fingers fumbling with the lock, pressing frenzied kisses to your lips as he slid the mask off of your face and threw it to the floor. 

"You taste like cinnamon and wine." Mattheo moaned, practically sucking the taste of mulled cider from your tongue as you ground against his clothes cock. 

"You taste like cigarettes and whiskey." Your words are bitten off as he nips on your lower lip, a whine spilling from you as his hand snakes back up your skirt, toying with the lace of your panties again. Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he snapped them against your hip. The sting of the elastic on your flesh made you gasp, and he only chuckled into your mouth in response. 

“Godric knows, you’ve been driving me crazy tonight, baby, thinking about these red lips, lookin’ for them everywhere. Now I want to see what that red looks like around the base of my cock.”

Your fingers trailed across the front of his body, shaky fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, tugging it more and more until it hung open, only his tie in the way as you peppered his chest with open-mouthed kisses. A moan spilled from his throat, his head tipping back, and he yanked at the tie, throwing it to the floor, quickly joined by his shirt and blazer until his torso was bare and exposed to your ministrations. 

Your hands gripped his hips, spinning his body with your own until his back was to the wood instead. Mattheo only smirked, eyes half-lidded as he watched you, your red lipstick already smeared across his mouth, printed on his chest, his own makeup smudged to match. 

One heavy hand found your shoulder, pressing you down, until you were on your knees before him, tugging at his belt as he lifted his hips from the door. His arrogance only grew, lifting one hand to comb through your tangled hair as you struggled with his trousers, pulling at them until they were halfway down his thighs. His cock sprung free, a hiss on his lips as the cold air of the dorm met his flushed skin. 

Gathering your hair up and out of your face, he gripped it in a bunch behind your head, not pushing or pulling, just waiting as you peered up at him, licking over one kiss-bitten lip. His other hand fell to your cheek, smudging streaks of black and white facepaint as he went, tracing his thumb across your lower lip. 

“You’re so beautiful, my love,”

Your smile made his thumb fall to your chin, a single squeeze, before he was retracting his hand, and manoeuvring your head towards his cock. Slipping the tip past your lips, a shudder passed over his body, his thighs clenching under your hands as your nails dug into his flesh, and his head ‘thumped’ on the wood of the door as it fell back. 

“Salazar fuckin’ save me,” He panted, slipping further and further, his grip in your hair tightening with every inch, until he was tapping the back of your throat, your gag buzzing along his flesh in a way that made his hips buck. “Love your pretty little mouth. Make it so good for me, baby.”

Smiling as best you could with every inch of his cock slipping into your mouth, his hand tightening in your hair, pulling back just enough to let you take a breath before his hips were bucking again. This time, as he sank back into your mouth, your lips tightened around him, sucking suddenly, and his broken moan bounced off the walls of his dorm. 

Again, and again, he was pushing you further, until you were comfortably taking him deep into your throat, tears lining your eyes, threatening to spill over your cheeks in a way you knew he loved to see. “Fuck, you’re so good down for me,”

Tracing your tongue around the head of his cock, you took control, sinking down against him and dragging your tongue along his cock, feeling the throb of that prominent vein. You moaned against him, and his body tensed at the feeling, making you pull back, just enough to have him gasping as the pleasure was ripped away. 

You kissed at his hip, nipping his hip bones where they pressed to his skin, and a babbling mess of your name was all you got as he panted, flushed skin rising and falling. 

Your hand took over, pumping his spit-slick shaft slowly, dragging up until his hips were following your hand with a pathetic groan. He finally had enough, enough of your teasing as you caught your breath, his head tipping back forward against his shoulders and blissed-out eyes narrowing on you. 

“Tongue out for me, pretty girl.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, at the gravel in his tone, the way he yanked your hair back to control you as you opened your mouth, tongue falling out as he’d asked. 

His cocky smile grew as you grinned back at him. Guiding his cock back to your mouth, he let the weight of it sit on your tongue, rubbing softly, pre-cum leaking and the taste of him made your thighs clench together. 

He didn’t miss the action, not at all, his hips thrusting lazily in and out of your mouth as he gave you a nod. Sealing your lips back around him, you moved enthusiastically once again, bobbing up and down along his cock, wringing every bit of pleasure from him that you possibly could. 

“So fucking good, baby, just like that. You like sucking my cock, huh? Always so eager for my cum in your mouth.” Pulling back, his cock fell free of your lips, spit tainted with red lipstick and pre-cum connected his tip to your lips, and he gathered it on his fingers. That same hand cupped your cheek, smearing it across your skin, “Not today though. Today, all my cum is going in that pretty pussy of yours.”

Kissing across his abs as you rose to your feet, his mouth was slamming onto your own. Tongue plunging in, your moan was lost to his lips as he worked at your clothes too, tugging at your dress, horned headband falling to the floor as he yanked the garment over your head. 

Kicking off his trousers and stripping himself the rest of the way, he panted, eyes wide, admiring the lace set you’d donned for his eyes only tonight. “You’ve been wearing this all night, and you let me chase you ‘round for hours?”

His hands skimmed over your body, almost reverent with the lightness of his touch, tracing the corset top that hugged your chest, pushing your tits up to the perfect fullness. The panties with their tiny straps, sitting perfectly on your hips, across your cheeks to make your arse look round and shapely, the strings and ribbons that had his mouth watering as he stared in awe. “You like it?”

He only growled, a flash of cold travelling across his eyes as you fuelled the carnal desire boiling within him. He was moving in a flash, sitting on the edge of the bed and bending you sideways across his lap, his wet cock prodding your stomach as you gasped at his manhandling. His hand smoothed over your flesh, across the seam of your panties, chuckling at the wetness he found on the material, and swirling at your clit. “How many times, huh? How many times did I almost get to you, but you escaped me?”

“Th-Three.” Your mind was foggy, hazy as pleasure began to take over. Your eyes fluttered shut as you hung limply across his thighs, core clenching around nothing. He hadn't even touched you properly yet, and you were already falling apart for him. Your gut was tightening, hips rocking and pressing back onto his fingers as you neared that peak, the excitement and electricity of the night had had you worked up for hours now, all moving toward this. 

“Three times. Three times you ruined my victory, so I think three times, I’ll ruin yours.”

His words had barely even registered in your mind when his touch left you, a cry of protest being cut shut by a sharp slap across your ass, your body jerking forward at the force, and pleasure zipped through you, despite your denied orgasm. “Damn it, Matty…”

“That’s what you get, baby.”

You pushed yourself up, shaky hands, putting on your best pout as you turned to face him. He only mimicked the expression, mocking you. Tugging you in instead, he licked his way into your mouth, filthy, panting kisses taking over as he made sure to ruin whatever was left of your makeup. You adjusted yourself across his body, settling down to sit against one thigh, nipping on his bottom lip and rocking your hips. 

Slow, so slow, you moved over him, feeling the muscle of his thigh tense up underneath you, his hands roaming your body, distracted and oblivious of the pleasure you were taking for yourself as that fiery pleasure rekindled once again. He reached for the back of the corset, tugging at the hoops, undoing them roughly until it was falling to the floor and he was catching one nipple between his lips. 

“Oh, fuck, Mattheo…” You whispered, arching closer to him, pushing your chest further into his face as he teased his teeth across the taut bud. A sob left your lips, fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the roots to convey words that were melting to nothing on the top of your tongue.

His arm caught around your waist, tugging you closer into his body, making it harder for you to move as you tried to squirm in his lap. His breathy laugh spread over the skin of your chest as he littered it with hickies, switching to the other side and leaving one wet, perky nipple cool in the air of the room.

“Matt, please!”

“Please, what? What do you want, my love?” When he was satisfied with the havoc he was wreaking on your body, his attention moved to your neck. Your arms around his shoulders, head tossed back, panting and whining as you ground against his thigh. “You wanna’ come, baby?”

“Y-Yeah.” The feeling was burning through your veins, taking you over, your eyes rolling back as your pussy throbbed. 

He pulled you in, a finger and thumb on your chin to guide your face back to his own, lips brushing. “Too bad.”

He gripped you once again, both arms holding you steady, unable to chase any kind of pleasure, as he kissed your neck, his smirk on your skin showing he knew just what he was doing. 

“Thought you’d get away with that, didn’t you? I’m not even going to count that one.” Tugging your panties to the side, two fingers sank into you, and your back arched into his body as he touched you at last. “You can’t win at my game. My little loser, huh? What a shame.”

You were shaking atop him, the feeling of his fingers, the curl and the pump he knew so well. Mattheo could read your body like a map, he knew just what you needed, just how to touch you, and he was using that to his advantage. Two fingers became three, stretching you out deliciously and yet it still wasn’t enough. You collapsed against his body, desperate to come, moaning like a whore and forever on the edge as he toyed with you. 

Your forehead was pressed to his, crying his name, begging against his mouth as he licked at your lip, tipping his head up to catch you for a kiss. When he pulled away this time, you could feel the tears in your eyes, nails digging into his skin, pleading with sounds that no longer resembled words. 

You could feel his frustration; every time he’d almost found you, every dead-end, every narrow escape.

A sick, twisted part of you was loving every second of this delicious torture, and you found yourself face down in the sheets, panties around your thighs and his cock slamming into you, so hard that a scream ripped through you. 

“Shh, you can take it, my little demon. I know you can.”

“I can, Matty. I can take it. I can take more.” You wanted it, you wanted it bad, spurring him on. Your hands scratched in the covers, legs spreading even further, body rocking with every deep thrust he gave you. His kisses travelled over your spine as your tears smeared mascara and eyeliner into the sheets. His body smothered you, one hand coming around to clasp your own, love shining through in his actions even as he ruined you, took you apart until your mind was shattered. 

You’d be wrecked in the morning, you’d surely be unable to walk, sore legs and trembling limbs, you’d have to spend half the morning just recovering from the way he was fucking you now. Brutal, fast, slamming in and out and making you sure your eyes would never come back from how far they were rolled into your head. 

Nerves were lighting up, electricity shooting along every cell of your body as his slick skin slid against yours, one hand in your hair, tugging your head back as his lips brushed your ears. 

“Wish you could see yourself, pretty girl. Wish you could see what I see. Shaking, dripping, my cock sliding in and out of this pussy like you were made for me.” He slowed his pace, for just a second, and you keened back into him, chasing the pleasure that was already building once again, even if you knew it would be fruitless. 

You may have lost the ability for sentient thought, but his count was ringing in your head, only two of three failed orgasms served. Your body tensed with a shudder, the anticipation lingering in the air like a sword over your head.

“You really do belong in the pits of hell, don’t you? Look what you do to me.” His teeth grazed over your shoulder, biting down on your skin enough to make you cry out his name, bucking against his touch as he soothed the bite with gentle licks. “There’s nothin’ angelic about you, you’re nothin’ but a sinner.”

His name spilled from your lips, again and again, like you were begging for redemption. 

“You’re on your knees, but you’re praying to me.”

His hand snaked around your body, finding your swollen clit and brushing his fingertips across it, pitching the bud harshly between his fingers. “Matt—”

“You want to come?”

“Yes!” 

“What a shame.” He slipped himself out of your cunt, spewed curses in anger leaving your wobbling lips, more tears spilling over as he took away the last part of your dignity. 

Twisting your entangled bodies, he guided you until your back met the bed sheets, pushing you up as he crawled over you. Hooking his fingers into the edges of those panties and pulling them away, he spread himself over you. 

He barely gave you time to recover, the stimulation all too much, as he lifted your legs to hook them over his shoulders plunge his cock back into the sopping heat of your cunt. 

This may have been his game, but when his forehead came to rest on your own, hands frantically bunching in the sheets beside your body, you knew the last round had begun. The ball was in your court, his own need displayed clearly on his face as he rutted into you desperately. His rhythm was lost, sloppy and out of control, and you squeezed yourself around his cock. 

You pressed sweet kisses to his lips, tempting him over the edge with a drag of your teeth across his lip, a lap of your tongue, and he was done for.

Finally, your peak crashed over you. Waves and waves, blinding pleasure that left you with silent, open-mouthed screams. Twitching underneath him, your fingers tore down his back, your legs snapped against his hips, holding him to your body as white-hot bliss drowned you. 

He only needed a few more thrusts, your back arching and his name a chant, enough profanities to scar anybody passing by as the lewd sounds of your movements covered your moans. He came with a groan, thrusting through until the sound tapered off into a whimper, his own unsteady body collapsed down on top of you. Dragging breaths into his lungs to recover as his sweaty body covered you, you hooked your arms around him, hugging him close, unwilling for him to move even a fraction.

You felt numb, the aftershocks of pleasure racing through your body, still twitching and shaking despite his weight on top of you. Freeing one hand, he smoothed it up your body, dragging from your thigh to your ribs, stroking softly in soothing motions, as his lips gave delicate pecks, shushing every lingering whimper that escaped. 

You reciprocated the action, raising one hand to land in his hair, fingers brushing through sweaty curls, as his cheek found your shoulder. 

“That… was some of the best sex we’ve ever had.” Your words were still breathless, and he laughed lightly, nodding against you where he lay. 

His skin was littered with lipstick, smudges of his facepaint on every part of your body, painted with love and lust everywhere you’d touched one another. The night was still heavy on your skin, the festivities outside still raging even if your night had come to an end. 

Maybe minutes had passed, maybe hours, but eventually, Mattheo dragged himself up, pulling himself free from your body, and smirking down at every mark he’d left on your skin. With unbalanced steps, he wandered away to the bathroom of his dorm, the squeak of the taps and the splash of water in the basin signalling the running of a bath. 

He offered you a hand as he returned, pulling you to your feet, the two of you wobbling your way through to the bathroom and taking stock of your mess as the water ran. Elixirs and salts, the fresh smell of jasmine and honey filled the air, and then you were sinking in, leaning back against Mattheo’s body as the two of you revelled in the hot water. 

His hand looped around your body, fingers lacing with yours and resting on your stomach, as his chin hooked over your shoulder. For a while, the two of you remained just like that, chasing the cold of the night from your bones and merely enjoying one another’s company.

“Tell me, was that your little friend— the one who was ripping out hearts for the Weasel-twins— that I saw running from Nott in the woods, this evening?”

“Oh, Matty,” You chuckled, turning to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You have no idea the games she’s been playing tonight.”

He only grinned, head resting on the edge of the tub. “I fear those two together, they’ll rip each other’s hearts out.”

“Maybe so,” You mused, his fingers dragging along your ribs, and you shuddered happily. “Or maybe, they just found their perfect match together.”

“Just like I found you.” He whispered, lips brushing along your cheekbone, and you scoffed. 

“You’re so cheesy.”

“It was your game!”

Your hum echoed off of the walls. “Don’t tell Theo. I want to see how it plays out.”

“What, and ruin the surprise? I would never.” He smirked, “Besides, Theo didn’t help me find you, let him search for a while.”

Holding onto his forearm banded around your waist, your fingers traced up and down, before his hand caught yours, holding tight and weaving fingers your together. 

“I love you, but don’t you ever run from me again. There is not a place on this earth you could hide that I wouldn't find you. I’d search forever.”

“You know,” You whispered, turning in his arms to sit across his lap, and he made a happy sound, face tipping up to brush his lips on your own. “That sounds vaguely threatening. You’re a little bit fucked up.”

“That’s because it is a threat, and a promise. Besides, you’re a little bit fucked up too, because I know you love it.”

You couldn't deny it, only able to snicker in response instead, and press a firm kiss to his lips, which he was happy to return. “I love you too, Matty. Now, let’s try and scrub off all this makeup, hm?”

[prettyfastcars]

the way you bend, the way you break - part 2 | Mob!Lando

Read part 1 here 

Summary: Lando finally has all that he wanted, all that belonged to him in the first place. But there’s always room for trouble, even in paradise. And it’s up to him to fix it all and do whatever it takes to make sure that if he can’t have you then… no one can. 

Themes: pregnant!reader, mob!lando, fluff, slight angst, smut, very mild gun kink, gaslighting, dark!lando, possessive!lando

a/n: come get y’all juice [throws this fic at you and runs away]

He woke up to something warm pressing into the side of his body. 

Snuggled up to him, so close like you were trying to find a way to hide under his skin. He smiled when he looked down and found you asleep, wrapped in your blanket and still seeking his warmth. 

He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, leaning into you as much as he could. He couldn’t exactly press his body completely against yours anymore because the bump got in the way. 

It had been two months since you two had left that mansion and that little town. And your bump was properly visible now. 

Speaking of the bump… He couldn’t resist shifting down to kiss it. “Morning, little one.” He whispered against it. The warmth of your skin was comforting so he nuzzled it and sighed. “Daddy can’t wait to meet you.” 

Then he felt gentle fingers running through his hair. He gave your bump one last kiss before he looked up and found you smiling down at him. 

“Hi,” You whispered, playing with his ridiculously soft, curly hair. 

“Morning, mama.” He reached up and kissed your face until you giggled and told him to back off because his stubble hurt. “Oh it hurts?” He kissed his way down your neck, his hands roaming all over your body, caressing you through the satin PJ set you wore before he began unbuttoning the shirt and lowering the shorts. 

He kissed his way down until he settled in between your legs, your body was still warm – hot rather – from being under the blanket and he couldn’t get enough. His fingers dug into the softness of your thighs as he parted them, bringing his mouth closer to where he desperately wanted to be. 

Kissing you through the thin excuse of an underwear you had on, he asked, “Is it still hurting?” He purposely let his stubble rub against your inner thighs, making you whine and moan as you squirmed under him. “Doesn’t look like it’s hurting.” He teased. 

Your fingers found their way into his hair and you tugged on it to shut him up. He smirked as he went along, letting you guide his mouth to where you wanted him. He licked, and sucked and teased until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you wide open for his mouth and preventing you from moving as he pinned your hips and legs down on the bed as he ate you out. 

This. This right here was his dream. Waking up next to his woman and then rolling over to taste her like she was there only for him to taste. Lando only smiled against your wet folds the louder your moans got. These peaceful mornings were what he lived for. 

But not everyday these past few months have been this peaceful. He still remembered the couple of days following the plane ride here… 

When you woke up on the plane, you immediately started panicking. 

“Baby, it’s okay. We’re just–,” 

“You had no right.” Were the first words you said to him. 

And it pissed him off. “Oh I didn’t? You’re mine, I have every right to do what I think is good for you. And our baby.” 

And then you argued. Big time. You said just the right things to make him mad and he acted like the overbearing, possessive man he was. The only way to get you to listen to him was to bend you over the nearest surface, in this case the bathroom sink, and fuck some sense into you. 

“You belong to me.” He murmured, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. Your mind was a foggy mess as he started rocking into you, making your front bump against the counter each time he fucked into you. “Say it.” He demanded. “Tell me you belong to me.” 

“I hate you so much right now…” you whispered, even as your walls clenched around him, unable to hide just how much you wanted him. 

His thrusts were animalistic, and rough. “I didn’t hear you.” He taunted, pulling his face away. His hand flew to your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it, and tugged on it, tipping your head back so you could see your reflections in the mirror. “I said tell me you’re mine.” His voice sounded menacing as he stared deep into your eyes through the mirror. 

You hated him. You hated how good he looked with that look on his face. His lips parted as his hips moved, burying his cock into you each time. You hated how good it felt to be bent over in front of him, all for him to use. 

You whimpered as he pounded into your core. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you. “I… I’m yours,” You whispered, gritting your teeth, losing this round. But vowing to not forgive him easily. 

You continued watching him through the mirror. He looked absolutely, devilishly handsome with his head thrown back, veins on his muscular neck prominent, eyes closed, his lips parted as groans escaped his lips. With that frown of pleasure he always had whenever he fucked you. 

“You better remember that, baby.” He growled. “You are mine. I love you, and I know how to care for you. So don’t fucking tell me what to do when it comes to you and our kid. You hear me?” 

You nodded despite the death stare you sent his way, moaning as he reached every single sensitive spot inside you. You felt a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in your lower region. You knew you couldn’t hold it any longer. 

And when your walls clenched violently around him. 

“You’re gonna cum for me, mama? Hmm?” He cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire. 

Seeing you didn’t reply, he tilted your head to the side a little. You couldn’t see his reflection anymore, not as he leaned in to kiss your parted lips before pulling away a few inches to spit into your mouth, then leaned in to kiss your swollen lips again. You moaned wantonly as he did, for a moment you forgot all about your anger. 

“Come for me.” He slammed his cock harder into you, and your eyes watered. He felt agonisingly good. It didn’t take much for you to come undone after that. Gushing out around his cock, walls pulsating around him as you came, hard.

He did too, right after you. “All fucking mine.” His warm load shooting inside you, as your body shook against the counter. He gathered you up in his arms again, kissing you as your body shivered and trembled. “I love you. I’m doing this for us, baby.” 

After you landed, he drove you to another one of his houses – though he called this one his main house – which was equally as grand as the one you used to work in. Once he showed you to your shared bedroom, you went straight for a nice, warm, long shower. 

And after that, you didn’t speak to Lando for two whole weeks. 

He tried everything. Sulked, apologised, begged, tried to buy you ridiculous things, begged some more. And it took two weeks of severe grovelling for you to finally accept his apology. 

He was glad you didn’t stay mad for too long. Although those two weeks of silent treatment from you hurt even more than the time he’d been shot twice during a crossfire. 

But he had you now, under him and squirming, moaning in pleasure just how he liked it. And this was perfect. His tongue didn’t stop teasing you until you were properly spent, grinding your hips against his mouth as you calmed down after a gentle, but intense orgasm. 

He kissed along your inner thighs, which were still trembling. But then he groaned in annoyance when he looked up and couldn’t see you because of the bump. “Kid’s getting in the way already,” He murmured, kissing his way back up. “I can’t even see your face when I’m down there now.” 

You giggled at the tone he used. “And whose fault is that?” 

He nuzzled your neck again, kissing it as he held you against him. “I love you.” He whispered into your ear. “It’s time to get some breakfast in you, mama. Let’s go.” 

You sighed in bliss, savouring one last moment in bed with him before you got out of bed and went through your morning routine while he made his way downstairs. This had become a new part of your routine now – him making breakfast each morning. 

You shook your head as you showered. You couldn’t believe this was your life now. New home, new place, new doctors, new staff members who waited on you at all times during the day. You had everything one could want. People all around the house who were ready to bring you whatever you wanted. Multiple cars with chauffeurs ready to take you wherever you wanted. 

Anywhere you wanted, you thought, but not to your hometown. 

Lando didn’t like it when you even mentioned the little town you’d just left. It didn’t have much to offer, but it was still where you were born and raised. You didn’t miss it enough to want to go back and live there. No. But you did miss it enough to want to know how everyone was doing back home. 

Your friends and family. 

You’d tried bringing it up just a few weeks ago… 

“Maybe I should go back once.” 

“What for?” He pulled you against him, arms wrapping around you, kissing your forehead as you both stood on the balcony just outside your bedroom, watching the sun rise. 

“Just to say goodbye properly. I… maybe they’d understand why–,” 

His arms tightened around you before he reached up to cup your face in his large, warm hands. “They won’t.” The finality in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. “If they wanted to talk to you they would’ve reached out by now, don’t you think?” 

Lando knew full well that he was leaving out the part where he threatened your friends and family to never reach out to you if they wanted to keep their heads on their shoulders. He had people watching them at all times. He wasn’t taking any risks. You were his now, and no one was gonna take you away from him. 

That ended that conversation. And you never brought it up again. 

You did think about it even now as you got ready for the day before making your way downstairs. Maybe, you thought, you could check up on them without physically going there. 

– 

A couple of days later, Lando came home after a particularly annoying day and all he wanted was a soothing hug from you, a couple of kisses, and maybe you’d let him bury his face between your thighs again. 

But he walked into the house and immediately, he could tell something was wrong. The guards were all in their places, armed as usual. So that calmed him down a little. Yet, a gut feeling told him something wasn’t right. 

As he made his way up the stairs, he took his phone out and checked the security cameras. Everything was fine outside, the guards walked around on alert as per usual. Then he checked the cams inside his home, trying to find you. And he frowned as he saw you in the corner of his library, typing furiously on the keyboard as your eyes remained glued to the screen of his computer. 

Weird. It was rather late, you should’ve been in bed. He tried zooming in to see what was displayed on the screen but he couldn’t see it. Damn. He should get new, better cameras. 

But without wasting any more time, and seeking to soothe that feeling in his gut, he rushed towards the library. And his heart sank as he kept an eye on the security cam footage while he approached the library. 

He watched how you visibly tensed up the moment he was sure you could hear his footsteps approaching. He watched how you clicked around in panic, typing even faster the closer he got to the library doors. 

He put his phone back in his pocket the moment he pushed the doors open and stepped into the room, finding you at his desk. The screen illuminated only your face while the rest of the room remained fairly dark. 

“Hi!” You said, sounding a little too cheerful. Sounding fake. Fake smile, fake happiness upon seeing him when he knew damn well you were just frowning right before he walked into the room. 

He hated it. The mask you put on just to make everything seem normal. He clenched his jaw before he asked, as calmly as he could, “What are you doing? It’s late, baby. Let’s go to bed.” 

“Yeah,” You gathered the blanket you had wrapped around you. “I was just looking into colour palettes. For the nursery, remember?” 

He nodded slowly, watching how you didn’t move from the desk. “Right now, though? It’s the middle of the night. And why were you in the dark?” Like you were doing something you shouldn’t. 

He noticed how you tensed up the moment he began walking towards you. He watched how you tried to discreetly move your hands towards the touchpad again. But he was quicker. 

And it only took him a moment to lean down so he could see properly, understand, and process what you’d been doing, or what you were about to do. He looked away from the screen and looked down at you. You avoided his eyes and that only pissed him off even more. 

“Care to explain this, mama?” 

Something shifted then. His tone, his demeanour, his presence – all of it getting darker. 

You looked away, sighing in defeat. “I just wanted to know.” There was no point in trying to hide that you’d been secretly emailing a friend of yours from back home. There weren’t too many emails exchanged, only a couple going back to a few days prior where you asked about the wellbeing of your parents and other friends. 

You didn’t risk texting because… that would be too easy for him to find. You couldn’t call either, he would know because his loyal guards watched each move of yours. So emails it was. You’d delete them each time. But this time it seemed you’d been caught before you could. 

“You couldn’t trust me?” He asked. Part of him was relieved that your friend had told you that all was well back there. This meant that your family was behaving like he wanted. 

“It’s not that.” 

“Then what is it?” He grabbed the back of the chair and slowly turned it so you’d have no choice but face him. “Why’d you go behind my back like this? And why lie to me?” 

You looked up at him. Piercing eyes staring down at you as the computer screen illuminated only half of his face. His hands remained on the back of the chair so he was closer now. His scent drove you insane. Damn hormones! Lately all you ever wanted to do was be close to him. His scent… it did things to you. This was unfair. 

“I just wanted to confirm that–,” 

“Why not just trust me?” 

You couldn’t help but say, “Trust you? After you kidnapped me and told me my family didn’t want anything to do with me? I’m supposed to just trust you?” You didn’t mean for it to come out like that but there was no going back now. 

“Kidnapped?” Lando scoffed. “Bringing you home where you belong isn’t kidnapping.” 

You sighed again. “I’m not saying I don’t want to be here with you, Lando. But I needed to make sure all was well at home.” 

“And is it?” 

You nodded sheepishly, looking up at him to find him clenching his jaw in that way that made you think of sinful things. 

Thank fuck, he thought, that your friend kept her mouth shut and didn’t give you any details about just how well things were at home. How your family and friends constantly had his men around them, keeping watch and notifying him of each of their moves. At this point, Lando knew exactly how many times your family went grocery shopping or to the park. He had his people keeping eyes on them at home, at work, following their cars – there was nothing he didn’t know about. 

“Am I not enough for you?” He asked, standing up straight so he could look more menacing as he stared down at you still sitting in front of him. 

Only his stance just made your body throb even more. He looked godly from this angle. Like some dark, tortured, tragic hero in his all black suit which fit him like a second skin. That metal chain hanging from his neck. His pretty eyes on you. You had to take a deep breath and shoo away all the filthy images that filled your head. 

You rolled your eyes at his question. “Don’t be dramatic.” 

“Dramatic?” He scoffed. “You’re reaching out to your friends, talking to people behind my back, then lying to me about it and I’m supposed to just what, do nothing?” He accused. “For now it’s emails, what if in the future some day you decide you want to leave me? Will you expect me to just stand there, not be dramatic, and do nothing?” 

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you tried to stand up but he carefully pushed you back down on the chair. Leaning down so he was staring into your eyes, he said, “Do you want to leave me, mama? Is that what’s going on here?” 

“You’re blowing this out of pro–,” 

He cut you off by pulling his shiny, silver gun out and placing it gently on the desk. Right where you both could clearly see. Within arms’ length, but definitely closer to you. 

His voice dropped as he leaned closer, lips bruising against your cheek as he ignored your side of the argument and said, “If you are thinking of running then you better use this and make sure I’m no longer breathing before you do.” He pulled away to look at you. The proximity, the danger in the air, the inevitable tension, it made you breathless. “Because if you run, I will chase.” He whispered, “And you won’t like what I do to you when I catch you.” 

Your heart was pounding, mind racing and the filthiest of outcomes flooding your brain. Still you asked, “You think I would hurt you?” 

He smirked and he’d never looked more unhinged than he did in that moment. It scared you, about just as much as it excited you. He glanced down at his gun. “Not worth living if I can’t have you anyway.” He whispered. 

“Don’t say that.” You shook your head, finally reaching out to hold his face in your hands. “I need you. We need you.” 

That made him look down at your bump, partially visible now since your little PJ top didn’t cover all of it. He dropped to kneel in front of you, bending to kiss the bump again like he always does. 

“I’m sorry, little one,” He whispered, nuzzling the warmth of your skin. “Daddy has to be mean to mama for a bit. She’s being difficult, you see?” Then he looked up at you and said, “I don’t wanna fight.” 

“Neither do I.” You stood up this time, taking a few steps just to put some distance between you and him so you could think straight and take a deep breath. “I just don’t understand why the thought of me being connected to what used to be my home bothers you so much.” 

He slowly turned to the desk and grabbed his gun. None of that scared you. You were safe with him, you were certain of that. So you watched him. Watched how he slowly turned to you and said, “Because there’s the possibility of you leaving me and going back there.” 

You sighed in frustration. “There’s always going to be the possibility for every single thing. That’s how life works! So what, you’ll wipe the entire town out of existence? Burn it to the ground? Turn it to nothing but ash? All so I won’t even have a home to go back to if I ever leave you?” 

He gave you that same unhinged smirk from earlier. Then said, “Don’t tempt me.” 

“Lando.” You warned. 

“What?” 

“What the fuck do you want, huh?” 

He moved. 

He walked towards you and for each step he took, you took one back. Until your back met with one of the book shelves and he was right in front of you. “I’m getting tired of this conversation.” 

You spat back, “I’m getting tired of your face.” You lied. 

He chuckled, then looked down at the bump between you two, caressing it as he said, “You hear that, little one? Mama’s being a brat.” He looked up at you and said, his voice deeper now, “But don’t you worry, daddy will deal with it.” 

It all happened too quickly. Him getting your clothes off, kissing you to distract you as he walked the two of you over to the nearest couch. You bit his lower lip in annoyance till you almost drew blood, and he just chuckled before kissing you even deeper as he carefully pushed you down on the couch, hovering over you supporting himself with one hand while the other one held his gun right above your face. 

“You’re being difficult again, baby.” He murmured, gently lowering his gun and brushing the barrel against your lips, then slowly dragged it down your chin. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He dragged the tip of his gun all the way down your trembling, naked body, down your thighs and back up till he pressed it against your wet folds. He chuckled when he saw you grinding against it. “Does it feel good? Hmm?” He asked. “Does it make you feel all powerful knowing you piss me off more than anyone ever dares to and can get away with it? All because I love you too much to actually punish you? Does it, baby?” 

You frowned at him, still annoyed. “Shut the fuck up.” You didn’t stop grinding against the cold gun. You whined when he pulled it away from your skin and tossed it to the side. 

He had a mean smirk on his face, calm despite everything. You studied his handsome face for a moment. Your emotions were shifting from guilt to annoyance to lust, and your heart fluttered when he whispered, “Spread those legs for me. Show me what’s mine.” 

The crude casualness of his words would’ve surely made you blush if you weren’t dripping wet and burning with desire. And regardless of how pompous you thought he was, how authoritative and overbearing – and no matter how annoyed you were – you did just as he asked. 

You held his stare as you spread your legs so he could settle in between them. Lando eyed you with a mischievous smirk. “There’s my good girl. Now hold yourself open for me.” He said, then lowered his mouth, watching as you carefully spread your folds open for him. “Fuck…” He murmured as he kissed your knuckles. 

You couldn’t see his face – because of the bump – but his warm breath against your fingers, your wet skin, the soft touch of his fingers as he spread your wetness around, followed by his tongue, all of it had you moaning as you arched your back, leaning into his mouth even more. 

You could see his hips moving while he ate you out, grinding into the couch and for some reason that made you whine even louder. “Lando …” you whimpered. 

He smirked against your inner thighs. “Don’t you dare come just yet.” 

You whined, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. Lando smirked when he craned his neck and saw how you were struggling to keep quiet. He knew just how sensitive your body had become these days, how badly you craved his touch at all times. And right now, he noticed the way your body squirmed under him, and he knew you too well so he could tell that you were so close to coming. 

“Baby… please,” You whined, releasing your swollen lip from your teeth. Your body felt hot, and you needed to just let go and come. 

“Please what?” He taunted, shamelessly ignoring your pleas. “Is it frustrating? Wanting something so badly and having someone else just threatening to take it away? Hmm?” He slid his tongue up and down your slit, careful not to make you come and enjoying the way you growled through gritted teeth. “This is how it feels, baby. Everytime you argue and bring up that little town. The thought of you leaving me here and returning there…” He playfully bit your inner thigh. “This is exactly how it feels. Like I’m a fucking madman ready to do whatever it takes just to have what I want. Which is you next to me. Always.” 

You let out a loud moan as he kissed your throbbing clit ever so gently. “I’m sorry,” You caught yourself whispering. “I’ll… I’ll let it go. I promise. There’s nowhere else I would rather be.” You lifted yourself up on one elbow and looked down at him. He looked up at you, with his lips more pink and fuller than usual. “I want to be here, right next to you. Always.” You promised. 

He seemed proud of that. Nodding gently, he said, “See how easy that was, mama?” He kissed his way up your inner thighs again, “I love you.” He murmured, looking deep into your eyes as if daring you to not say it back. 

You couldn’t resist him. “And I love you.” You melted right under his touch as his tongue gently licked down your folds. 

His hand found yours and he laced his fingers with yours while his other hand rubbed up and down your thigh as he pushed his face further into your wet core, making you whimper in pleasure. Your legs had begun shaking just a little as he took his time and dragged his tongue up and down your slit, teasing your sensitive spots with his warm and wet tongue. 

“Please…” You moaned pathetically. 

Then heard his merciless chuckle as he pulled away, kissing his way up your body again. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth eventually, making you gasp and moan. He quickly placed his fingers where his mouth had been earlier, teasing your clit before shoving two fingers inside of you and stroking your walls so slowly that you were well past caring if the guards could hear you moaning. 

He pulled away just for a moment, to quickly take his suit jacket off, then his shirt. He tossed both somewhere on the floor and bent down to kiss you again. He kissed down your neck, leisurely taking his time as he unzipped his pants. 

“Please,” You whined, sliding your fingers into his soft hair. “I need you. Now.” You spoke through gritted teeth by the end, tugging at the roots of his curly hair. 

“So needy.” He murmured, loving it actually. It made his ego inflate knowing his woman needed him so badly. “I’m here, baby. “I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered as he lowered his underwear just enough to free his cock. He was rock hard this whole time. It was a fucking miracle he was able to even wait this long. 

With a slow, steady push, he slid his cock into you. You shuddered, moaning as you felt all of him filling you up. Lando held back his moans and growls as he felt your warmth wrap around him so perfectly. He clenched his jaw as he relished the feeling of being inside of you, finally. 

“This what you needed, mama?” he asked, looking down at you, and gently grabbing your face, making you look up at him. 

You just stared at him with parted lips, breathing heavily. Lando smirked, pulling out just a little before pushing back into you again. You closed your eyes and moaned, arching your back, your bare chest pressing against his. 

Lando leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth while he began moving in and out of you. You whined senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you. 

He leaned down to push his face into your neck as he lifted one of your legs and hooked it to his waist, pushing himself deeper inside you. “Fuck…you’re mine, you hear me?” 

You nodded. 

“Only mine…” Lando quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before. “My woman,” He spoke, his voice thick and deep with lust. “Mine.” He stared down at you with a handsome and arrogant smirk on his face. “Say it.”  

“I’m yours.” You repeated, eyes getting droopy with desire. 

Lando caressed your cheek with his knuckles, his other hand holding him up above you. He looked down at you with nothing but love and fierce adoration in his eyes. “Come for me.” 

You let the pressure build inside you, before simply letting go. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, Lando kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came. You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even as you came. 

You felt your second release approaching even before you could recover from the first one. 

You felt your mind getting foggy again. His lean body hovering above you as he fucked deeper into you, as much as he could while still being careful not to hurt you – it was a new fear of his, that he would somehow hurt you during sex. “Come for me again, baby.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him. 

Your body trembled as you came for the second time, walls tightening around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you until he came as well. “Fuck, baby…” His voice cracked in a way that had you clenching even harder around him. 

You were gasping for breath after that, and Lando twisted you both on your sides so you could rest for a while. He knew all too well that you had the habit of drifting off into deep sleep right after some good sex. 

Kissing your forehead, he murmured, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ll get us in bed in a while, okay?” 

You nodded, burrowing deeper into his warm, muscular chest as you let yourself pass out in bliss. 

— 

You began snoring softly in no time, so he was in no rush to get you to move. He grabbed the blanket from before and made sure you were nice and warm before he carefully slid from under you and retrieved his phone from his trousers on the floor. 

Letting the back of his hand gently caress your cheek, and bending down to kiss your bump one last time, Lando moved away from the couch and went towards the desk. Sitting down on the chair, he made a phone call while he kept an eye on what the screen displayed. 

Those damned emails. 

He smirked when he heard the person on the other end answer. He wasn’t calling to have a full conversation – not with you sleeping just a few feet away. 

“You know what to do.” He ordered over the phone. Then ended the call once the person on the other side confirmed that they indeed knew what he was talking about. 

He tossed his phone aside then closed the tabs on his computer. Deleting the emails before he did so. He scoffed, thinking about that damn little town which was being a pain – but not for long. 

He walked back to where you were sleeping. Kneeling beside the couch, he couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss your cheek. “My baby,” He murmured, letting his lips brush against your skin for a while longer. “I love you so much.” He couldn’t get enough of you. “I’m doing this for us.” He smiled, “You’ll understand one day. I’m just making sure that if ever I can’t have you, then no one can.” 

—

a/n: hi!! I won’t be writing any more parts for this story. I’ve been loving fics with open endings lately so yeahhhh (there will be more mob fics tho don’t worry <3)

[annwrites]

⸻ fallen for the monster. ⸻

· pairing: pyramid head x fem!reader · type: one-shot · summary: with no memory of how you got there, you find yourself trapped within the haunting confines of the town of silent hill. and there is where you find that which has haunted your nightmares dreams for weeks on-end. but you are not horrified by him. and he wants you all the more for it. · tags: use of restraints, monster fucking, tummy bulge, body worship, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, nipple play, pussy smacking, clit pinching, chair sex · tw: dubcon · word count: 2,393

When you awake, you feel a dull, throbbing ache at the base of your skull.

Your head lulls to the side and you blink blearily against dim overhead lighting which buzzes quietly, and your head spins. You worry you have a concussion.

You try to swallow, but your tongue only serves to stick to the roof of your mouth.

And then your senses clear, but only minimally. Enough for you to realize your limbs are latched tightly to the large piece of rusted sheet metal which you are lying utterly naked upon.

Then is when you begin to hyperventilate in terror.

You don't recall this place.

One moment, you'd been in bed sound asleep. The next, you awake to this: being trussed up like game to be slaughtered.

You've been sleep walking again, haven't you?

This may feel like a nightmare, but you know that you are utterly awake.

Hot tears begin to slip down your cheeks while your breasts rapidly rise and fall as you strain against your restraints, even if you know that there's no use.

Nevertheless, you try and try until your skin is nearly rubbed raw in your efforts to free yourself.

Your chin wobbles and you begin to quietly sob.

You want so desperately to go home.

Why is this happening to you? Why would someone do this? Why are men such depraved, disgusting creatures? You've done nothing wrong to deserve what is inevitably coming for you.

You should've placed more locks upon your door to prevent yourself from escaping.

Even if you somehow know that even if you'd implemented a dozen...they wouldn't have mattered.

You've just begun to drift off to sleep when you hear it.

You'd tried keeping your eyes open for as long as you possibly could, but once the adrenaline began to wear off and you let the silence envelope you, it lulled you into a false sense of security. And so you had closed your lids for just a moment. Just one.

But now your heart is pounding away between your breasts once again.

The sound of something heavy and metallic scrapes against the floor not far from the room you're trapped in.

Your mind races with various horrifying scenarios.

What if he doesn't mean to rape you at all, but instead torture you? What if that is what is scraping against the floor as he comes ever-closer: a weapon? An axe, or a pipe, or a machete, or—

You begin to strain again, your cries growing in volume as you arch your back and grit your teeth and pull, pull, pull.

But even if you could free even one limb—you fear you would need to deglove a hand or a foot to even accomplish such a feat—what of the rest?

The sound stops. Suddenly. Outside the door.

Your fear you may lose consciousness again.

And then you hope for as much.

At least you would be spared that way... In a sense.

Rusted hinges creak while the base of the door scrapes against the cement floor and you go utterly still and silent as you stare with wide eyes at what is to come.

And when you see it, your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. Not even a gasp.

You should've known.

How could you not have known?

He's haunted your dreams for months on-end.

At the beginning, you merely hid, even if the sensation of him was everywhere in your sleeping state.

Even when awake, you feel him with you—you're never alone now.

And then you had stopped hiding.

You began seeking him out instead.

You admitted it to yourself somewhere along the way: your attraction to this faceless thing.

You liked watching him and the things he would do.

The ways he relieved his sexual frustrations as cum poured from his penis when he would finish in hidden rooms that only you could find.

You admired his tall, sturdy body, sinewy limbs, and his long, thick cock.

You've touched yourself raw over it.

He slams the door shut behind him and you jerk involuntarily while spreading your legs, offering yourself up to him.

At last—at long last you can have it: him. Can be the object of his desires and darkening attentions.

Every inch of you grows warm and heat pools between your spread thighs.

"It's you," you sigh while licking your lips.

He rests his great knife against the wall before stalking toward you. His heavy boots thump against the floor, the sensation reverberating through you.

He comes to stand between your legs, his hands resting at his sides while his fingers twitch in anticipation.

You want to see his face, but that part of himself he's never revealed. Not even to you. You somehow know it within your heart that he never will.

You shed a tear at the thought.

He slides his callused hands up your shins, over your knees, and then between your thighs.

You whimper when he stops. For he is so near where you're now dripping and desperate for him.

"Please," you beg—a mere whisper.

He cocks his head to the side, then moves his hands to your chest.

He takes each of your breasts within his grip and begins to knead the soft, squishy mounds between his fingers.

Your skin is so soft and warm. Clean and undefiled. Delicate.

He pinches a tiny nipple between his fingertips and rolls it around until it is taught and pebbled.

You bite your lip and clench tightly around nothing. You need more. From him.

He does the same with your other breast, and then he lightly slaps each of them, watching in fascination as they jiggle.

He slides a palm down your stomach and runs his fingers through the smattering of coarse, yet soft hair upon your pubic mound.

He takes your supple hips into his hands and squeezes.

Everything about you is so soft and weak and fragile.

So human.

So pure and feminine.

He likes you like this: weak.

He removes his smock and it falls to the floor, leaving his form bare before you.

You gasp in shock.

Up close like this, it's impossibly large.

It will never fit.

But oh, how you need for it to.

"Will it hurt?" You whimper.

He merely grunts in response before stroking himself from base to shaft, over and over.

"Here," you whisper, wiggling your hips. "Between my legs. Put it there. Let me help you feel better."

He squeezes his tip tightly and greyish liquid oozes out, dribbling onto the floor.

You nod your head. "Ease it in where I'm wet. You'll like it. It's meant for you to have. All of me is. I want to give you relief. I'm yours."

He positions his cock before your entrance and rubs the bulbous, mushroom tip against your cunt.

You smile in response.

Nearly there.

It's about to happen.

"That's it," you encourage softly. "Right there. Shove it inside."

You know it will be excruciating initially. But you have to do this.

It's always been meant to happen.

You're meant for him to have. To utilize as he pleases.

He eases into you as you instructed, but only the tip.

Your back arches and your eyes go wide as you begin to stretch around him. "Ah, more. Give me more."

He shoves his hips forward, his girth settling inside you inch-by-inch.

You begin to softly cry.

"All of it. I have to have it all. We're supposed to do it like this. Please. Please."

He watches as shimmering tears slip from your innocent eyes.

"I love you."

He thrust inside of you then, burying himself firmly in your tight, wet heat.

He roars at the feel of you wrapped so perfectly around him.

He'd meant to be gentle with you, but you had begged him so sweetly. How could he ever deny you like this?

You choke on your tears and it burns where his body is now connected with your own, but it feels so, so right.

Like two broken, grotesque, tormented things being joined into one which is whole at last.

He grips your hips and you glance down, studying where his erection bulges against your stomach, ready to rip you open at any moment, and then he begins to brutally thrust.

He watches in fasciation as your breasts and skin and softness bounce with every jerk of his body against yours.

"More, more, more," you plead.

He cups your face between his hands, wanting to please his pure little mortal with the broken mind and heart.

He eases a thumb into your mouth and you begin to suck quietly, grounding yourself to him.

Your eyes flutter closed and you hum in contentment.

He needn't have bound you.

You would've remained all on your own, because it is he who has taken you captive.

You would never willingly leave him.

He knows this. Has known for some time.

He doesn't understand your dedication to him—your love for him—but he takes it anyway. Because that is what he does. That...is what he is: a taker.

He doesn't understand the concept of love. Has never even heard the word before you uttered it a moment ago, but somehow, he knows it is what he has when you're with him in this cursed place.

His cock throbs painfully between your walls, desperate for release.

He looks down to the tiny, swollen nub between your legs and he decides to touch it. Perhaps it feels as smooth and precious as the rest of you.

He pinches it between his fingers and your eyes open once again while you gasp in shock.

"Ah! Please," you whimper.

He slaps it painfully with his open palm and you clench around him, squeezing his veiny erection tightly.

So he does it again, and you draw him impossibly further inside.

Yes, he is inside you, while you are inside his world.

Never to escape.

No, now that he has you here in flesh and blood and bone, you cannot leave.

He cannot bear it.

His sweet, ignorant human girl...fallen for a monster.

If only you knew the blood upon his hands. But you have licked it clean. Have washed him with your tears.

He begins to rub that sensitive nub fervently—round and round—and you squeal and pull against your restraints and your legs wobble. "T-There, yes!"

He grunts and groans, pumping away, wanting to see what it is which you do when you finally reach your peak.

He needs to see.

You squeeze tightly, like a vice, and you spread your legs wide. "Nearly—"

You begin to squelch loudly against him—your cunt's arousal coats his cock now.

"So—" You whimper and cry softly. "Like that."

He slaps it again, then pinches, rubs, pinches, slaps—

"Yes!" You cry, relief washing over you as you climax around his cock. "Good, so goooood. Perfect."

You pant slowly and you giggle quietly.

"Finally," you whisper affectionately.

He doesn't stop, however. He continues to rock his hips against yours, fucking himself between your sore, pulsating walls.

But you know he needs this.

And so you let him continue for however long he may require.

Until he begins to touch it again.

You jerk, then sniffle. "It's too sensitive. You have to wait."

He ignores that.

He liked it: what you just did.

Likes it more than anything.

He wants to see it again. To feel it again. Wants you to feel it again.

So he slaps your raw cunt and pinches your clit tightly.

"Mm! Please, don't!"

He growls lowly before rubbing feverishly at it.

"No. Just wa—"

He slaps it again as punishment.

You sob.

"Ple—"

Another slap—even harder.

You force yourself to be quiet then; swallow down your protests. For his sake.

You want nothing more in all the world than to please him.

And he wants the same for you. To please his pathetic little human.

He embraced his monstrosity long ago. It's all he's ever been. And so he is not above torture. Not even of this nature.

But you like it. You can't hide yourself from him. In any facet.

His breathing grows heavy and labored and his fingers circle your red, swollen clit before he grinds down against it with the heel of his palm.

Your body gyrates atop the thin metal he has you placed upon and drool drips from the corner of your open mouth.

So he shoves two fingers inside the pool of saliva and you clamp down against them and suck at him between plump lips.

Such strange creatures you humans are. To him, at least.

But he likes your warmth, and smooth skin, and soft breasts, and squishy cunt.

So, so delicate you are. Easy to manipulate and use.

A thin sheen of sweat has broken out across his naked form and he labors to reach his peak—to aid you in reaching yours.

And then your walls begin to squeeze around him again, giving him a wanted signal.

He thrusts and thrusts, leaning over you, turning his head so as not to impale you.

You are the only one he could never stand to kill or maim.

He grips the cuffs around your wrists and pulls, freeing your limbs.

You quickly wrap them around his shoulders.

He does the same with your ankles, so you wrap them around his waist.

He lifts you into the air and grips you beneath your fleshy ass, sliding you along his impossibly long erection.

He stumbles back into a chair, which groans beneath his heavy weight and you hold yourself to him.

You rock your hips against his as your feet dangle well above the floor.

He guides you along his shaft, instructing you.

You press your lips to his neck, his shoulder, his pecks.

"I love you," you whisper once more.

And then he roars so loud it nigh-on shakes the entire building as he spills and spills and spills inside of you.

It's so much that it covers his thighs, pours onto the floor, and covers your young, fertile walls.

And then the two of you calm and he holds you close while burying his scarred fingers in your damp hair.

"Do I get to stay this time?" You whimper.

He nods.

[hllywdwhre]

The Hunt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: Spicy hide-and-seek with Tommy

Word count: 1350

Warnings: Hunter/prey dynamic, maybe CNC? She fights back but everything is consensual, use of ‘pet’ as a pet name but no pet play, inaccurate description of the floor plan of the library (leave me alone), mild bondage, spanking, rough sex, p in v, unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Notes: before I got the promotion and all hell broke loose with Helene’s bitch ass coming through, this was going to be part of my kinktober😌enjoy, sluts

Your heart pounded in your ears as you tried as quietly as possible to move throughout the massive manor. Tommy had given you a two minute head start to try and hide from him, but you knew he would eventually find you, and you both eagerly awaited it and longed not to be caught.

The longer he had to look, the better it would be for both of you.

There was something about knowing he was looking for you. About knowing that when he found you, he was going to make you scream.

You heard the sound of the door opening down the hallway and tensed. You were hidden in one of the spare bedrooms’ closets and under a pile of old blankets resting in the corner.

As you heard the rest of the doors open and shut and heard his footsteps grow nearer to you, you couldn’t help but focus on the sounds of your own breathing, forcing your breath to come out silently despite the adrenaline making you want to take deep gasps.

“Come on out, pet. You know you can’t hide from me forever,” Tommy called to you.

The door opened to the room you were in and you held your breath, freezing completely when the closet door opened.

To your surprise, he didn’t look under the blankets and shut the closet door. You waited until you heard him begin to look in other rooms before daring to step out of your hiding spot.

Without making a noise, you made your way out of the closet and peaked under the door of the bedroom, trying to see if you could see any sign of him. When you saw him step into his office, you quietly opened the door and took off towards the library.

As you stepped inside, you left the door cracked. It was a give away as to where you were (for now), but the sound of the door closing was even more damning. You didn’t allow yourself too much time to think of where to hide, instead running to the opposite corner of the room. You grabbed a pillow from the little sofa near the fireplace before hiding behind the very last row of bookshelves that lined the room. The shelves were about three feet high, meaning you had to crouch down behind them to remain hidden, but you would be able to see Tommy as he walked past them.

“You’re getting sloppy, pet. You left the door open,” Tommy suddenly called as he stepped into the room. “It’s like you want me to find you,” he taunted.

You didn’t reply and kept your breathing as even as possible, peaking your head around one of the corners to watch as he walked through the rows of books, looking down each row of them.

When he was about three rows away from you, you threw the pillow like a frisbee to the opposite side of the room and took a few moments of him investigating the cause of the sound to crawl past the rows of books he had already looked down and hiding in between two of them.

It was when you heard the sound of his shoes and then heard nothing that your heart dropped. He had taken off his shoes to muffle the sound of his footsteps, meaning you would have to risk actually looking back to get some sign of where he was at.

You peaked around one corner and didn’t see him at all.

Suddenly, a hand came down over your mouth at the same time that you heard his voice whisper in your ear, “Nice try.”

You began trying to squirm out of his grip as his arm wrapped around your waist and picked you up. You didn’t even use half of your strength to try and fight him. You only wanted to irritate him more, not risk truly hurting either of you.

“That cunt is mine now, pet,” he growled out, roughly forcing you over the edge of the bookshelf and pinning your hands behind your back.

The bookshelves were just high enough that you couldn’t get any traction on any of the shelves or the floor, but that didn’t stop your petulant squirming.

A rough slap landed on your ass, causing you to freeze long enough for Tommy to lift your skirt over your hips and trail his fingers along your cunt.

“No panties and you’re soaking wet, yet you’re trying so hard to get away from me,” he teased before his touch was gone and you heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled. “Now, you’re going to take my cock like a good little whore since you made me chase you all over this godforsaken manor and lay you over the bookshelf, understood?”

You bit your lip to hide a smirk and tried squirming under him again, only to be met with two more quick slaps to your ass that caused you to whimper. As soon as your motions faltered, he lifted one of your legs and placed it over the edge of the bookshelf, then pushed inside you in one quick motion.

“Fuck!” You yelped and moaned out all at once. The stretch burned, but you were wet enough just from the chase that it didn’t truly hurt.

Tommy gave you no time to adjust before he was pounding into you with abandon. He kept a tight grip on your wrists that were still locked in his hands and a grip on your thigh that was over the edge of the bookshelf, using them to keep you in place. With a slight change of the angle of his hips, you were moaning loudly underneath him and he was chuckling above you.

“Good girl,” he praised, “take my cock like you were meant to do.”

You clenched around him at the praise and felt his hand move from your thigh and his fingers go to your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts and causing your moans to turn to desperate whimpers.

“Fought and hid so well for what? I can feel the way you already want to cum around me,” he taunted, causing a small bit of embarrassment to fill you at just how quickly he had managed to get you to the edge already.

“Please, Tommy, can I cum?” You begged. The coil in the pit of your stomach grew tighter and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold off much longer.

“Go ahead,” he said easily, “but I’m not stopping until I finish, too, pet.” As if to punctuate his point, the speed of his thrusts picked up and he made sure to hit that spot inside you every time.

You gave in to the pleasure, knowing he was going to keep going but not being able to hold yourself back. Your nails dug into the palms of your hand and the only thing that fell from your lips was a symphony of curses and his name.

With your orgasm taken care of, Tommy began focusing on his own pleasure, letting his thrusts become reckless and sloppy as he chased his own high.

Your whimpers, moans, and the way you said his name at the onslaught of pleasure only spurred him on and it was moments later that you could feel his release spilling inside of you.

He dropped your hands and both of his came to either side of you while his head dropped to the center of your back. You could feel his heavy breaths trail down your back and a slow trail of kisses going down your spine.

“Nice trick with the pillow,” he complimented with a slight chuckle, pulling you into his arms bridal style. “Next time, don’t turn your back to me.”

You let out a small chuckle of your own and rested your head on his chest.

“I already have my next route planned,” you promised.

[shadowdaddies]

A Better Tomorrow

Best Friend Cassian x Reader / mated Azriel x Reader Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This is for anyone who is tired. Life is hard, but the world is better with you in it.

The loud echo of your boots against the hardwood echoed through the hallway, steps fast and harsh against the floors as though you could take your anger out against it. Face hot with waves of anger and shame, you heaved out a sigh, flexing and clenching your hands while you paced the room, seeking an outlet to calm the rage contained beneath your skin. 

As if they could sense you were about to break, a cool wisp of darkness brushed your hand, effectively extinguishing the wildfire burning within you. Feet stopped on instinct, your watery eyes falling closed as tension immediately left your body, the anger making way for a brief peace that quickly soured to melancholy.

“Love?” Azriel called out from the kitchen, your mate’s warm voice healing the hole in your chest as you padded towards his call. 

“Hey, Az,” you murmured, smiling in spite of yourself at the sight of bright hazel eyes. The scent of chilled mist and cedar permeated the air, a balm to your blazing emotions. A calloused hand brushed down your arm, just as softly and soothing as his shadows when Azriel pulled you to his side. 

Movement from the corner of your eye turned your head, Cassian’s hulking frame leaning casually over the counter as he cleaned the final scraps of food from his plate. “Hey sunshine,” he winked, pausing to take a long swig of his drink. “How’s Windhaven? Keeping those Illyrian louts in check for me?”

By the way Azriel’s shadows began to oscillate erratically, his grip on your waist tensing ever so slightly, you knew that you hadn’t hidden your reaction to Cassian’s question. 

“What happened?” Azriel asked in a lethal calm. The shame and anger from earlier rushed back to you, eddying in your mind like a whirlpool that threatened to pull you under. A cool shadow stroking your cheek pulled your attention back to your mate. Safety, love, protectiveness seemed to roll off of him, and you spared a glance to Cassian to find the same.

Allowing yourself to lean your weight on Azriel, you found the comfort and clarity you needed from his presence - and with that clarity, the awareness of Azriel’s own simmering anger just below his composed facade. 

“Azriel,” you whispered, hand reaching up to brush a lock of onyx hair behind his curved ear. “I think I need to talk to Cassian about this alone, if that is alright.” 

Warring emotions seemed to play out in Azriel’s eyes, the irises reflecting golden light as his gaze flicked between his mate and brother. “I will talk to you about it, but I need to speak with my General right now,” you promised, offering a small smile of encouragement.

The shadowsinger’s sharp stare softened at that, understanding falling like a blanket of comfort over the two of you. Azriel recognized your need to separate your work from home life - it was a value which you both shared, and worked on balancing together. Pressing a kiss to your hair - and flashing a warning glare at Cassian that sent a shiver down your spine - Azriel went outside, leaving you alone with Cass.

Without Azriel’s presence by your side, the weight of the day seemed to fall all at once, Cassian’s expression turning from that of a concerned General to a worried friend instantly. His eyes tracked how your weight shifted awkwardly, hands twisting with each other. 

“C’mere sunshine,” he murmured, pulling out the chair next to where he sat. You took the chair, elbows instantly landing on the table and hands tangling in your hair. 

“I don’t think I can do this, Cass,” you admitted, hiding your watery eyes by studying the woodgrain of the table. “Windhaven. As a female. I’m just not strong enough.” You could feel Cassian’s intake of air, so you spoke before he could interject his platitudes and hollow encouragements. 

“It’s so hard - and I knew it would be - but day after day, nothing changes. Some of these males get worse with how they treat me, how they even treat each other. And I know I should ‘not let it bother me.’ I know that ‘it’s a reflection of their character and not mine.’ I know that ‘I am the bigger person.’ But gods dammit, I am so tired.”

You dared a peek at Cassian, expecting something of pity or even judgment, but he sat back in his chair with eyes that matched your own, sparkling with the same barely-held tears which held memories, understanding. He nodded silently, both an encouragement and an affirmation.

Loosing another sigh, you ran one hand through your hair as the other picked nervously at the textured table. “I tried to fight back today. To take a stand.” Palms smacked the table, the sting left on your hands nothing compared to the sting of today’s memory. 

“Fucking Devlon,” you continued. “He brought a group of male soldiers to where we were training the new Valkyries. The way they taunted those young girls, the disgusting comments... And one of them-” Your eyes shuttered at the sound of his voice replaying in your mind. “I won’t repeat what he said to Gwyn, but it sent me over the edge, Cassian. I couldn’t let those females be treated like that.

“So I challenged the asshole to a fight, with a ‘cycle-tainted sword,’” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at the words. 

“And he accepted,” Cassian added, not a question, but a reminder. 

With a stiff nod, you watched his reaction carefully as you continued the story. “I pinned him, easily-“ You felt relief as Cassian sipped his drink, shrugging in a silent of course. “But I didn’t stop there. He continued to spew his shit even from the ground, and I saw the faces of those other males. They hadn’t changed. I hadn’t proved anything to them.

“So I took my blade, and I cut his wing.” You couldn’t help the tear that spilled down your cheek then, the salty droplet cool against your reddened cheek. “Not enough to hurt him, but enough to leave a scar. To leave a reminder of what we could do.”

Cassian’s lips spread into a smirk, eyes twinkling with the feral delight of a true warrior, but he remained silent. 

“It feels wrong, Cassian. I don’t know what to do - how to stand up for myself, for others. Those males will never change, and I fear I’m only becoming as terrible as them. But I can’t bear to see that evil. I just can’t do it anymore... I am not strong enough for Illyria.”

Your bottom lip quivered, the heartbreak of the situation weighing you down, curving your shoulders in as you wrapped your arms around yourself. 

Cassian watched you for a long moment, pushing his plate to the side before leaning closer, ruby red siphons pulsing light against the table where he now rested them. 

“I don’t know whether your actions against that male were the right thing to do. I do know that he deserved it - and much more - but if it weighs on your conscience, it may not be what is best for you. And that is what I care about. I don’t give a fuck about what happens to some Illyrian prick who went out of his way to hurt you all. He incited a reaction, and reaped the consequences. 

“You are right,” Cassian continued, his hand giving yours a gentle squeeze. “It is so hard, to see the hatred and evil day after day - not only from our enemies, but those within our own community. And those males will probably never change. But so much has changed, and will. The Valkyries are already bringing change in more ways than I think you realize.”

Cassian swallowed thickly, his eyes shining with a brighter kind of emotion. “Remember when I met you and Nesta in town after training at Windhaven last week?” You nodded,  curious as to where he was going with this. 

“I saw the two of you walking towards me, armed in your uniforms with heads held high. These little girls,” he breathed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “They were watching you from the window. Two little Illyrian girls with a look that I had never seen them have in that town. It was more than admiration, it was hope.”

Hazel eyes bore into you with a captivating earnestness. “You give them hope. Something I am ashamed to say I hadn’t noticed was missing until The Valkyries brought it to them. Those males may not change, but you are helping to build a world for those little girls to be the change. 

We can’t change Illyria overnight. But it needs you, because you are making the world a better place for those children - a world with hope, where they can be themselves without fear, because they look at you and know it is possible.”

A sob broke from your lips, relief washing over you like a cool wave at the realization. You would make mistakes, consequences would have actions, people would do wrong by you and others. But as small as your work may feel, you are building a better world for tomorrow.

A shadow wound through your tousled hair, wiping at the salty tears that streaked down your cheeks. Cassian chuckled at the motion, standing from his seat with a grunt. “I think Azriel might be getting impatient out there,” he nodded towards the door. “Go have a good night with your mate.”

You stood, nodding with a sniffle as you wrapped your arms around your friend, his own returning the action with his usual tight squeeze. “Thank you, Cassian. You are a very good friend, and General.”

“I know,” he smirked when you pulled away, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “I’m feeling inspired to go find my Nesta, and remind her just how much better the world is with her.” With a suggestive smirk, he winked and set off towards the library, leaving you laughing softly at his shameless behavior.

You opened the door to the outside where Azriel stood looking out at the sunset, his stillness making him look like a statue until he turned to face you, and you inhaled sharply at the beauty of your mate, a living work of art. 

“Are you alright?” he questioned, failing to hide his concern at the still-drying tears on your face. Pushing up on your toes, you pulled him in for a kiss. 

“Better than ever,” you murmured against his lips, tugging his soft lower lip between your teeth before pulling away to take his hands in yours. “I’ll tell you everything over dinner. I’m ready to enjoy my night with the one I love.”

That earned a cheeky grin from Azriel, the male effortlessly sweeping you into his arms before setting off to fly across the multi-colored hues of the evening sky, where you clung to the comfort of him.

[anaconamor]

omgg i loveee ur acc sm and since you’re taking request can we get a blurb or something about jude having you as his good luck charm like giving you head or something idk

for you - jb blurb.

(minors dni!! this one is a little nastyyyy 😵‍💫😛 but he’s been looking too good i fear…) im to lazy to proofread so im sorry for any spelling mistakes!! 🤍

“my favorite girl… my girl, my girl only,” he gently whispered, making you breathe heavy as he kissed you harsher and desperate. he wasted no time after coming home from his awaited game. he begged all week for you to go and watch him play, something about you being there was a lucky charm.

you knew he was just playing around… or was he?

all you could focus on was how he was paying attention to every single detail of you. how his large hands roamed your sides and down your back, giving your ass a nice firm grip, a gasp escaping your lips. his delicate fingers tracing every ridge of you to the point where you could no longer stand it.

his bedroom was cold, goosebumps raising immediately. “so in love with you,” he confessed, eyes fluttering as your hands undid his buttons from his shirt. “you don’t understand how much you mean it to me, the whole world,” he continued to blabbering as you kissed his neck and jaw, the same attention and fierce he gave you. “please jude,” you said quietly. not knowing what exactly you were begging for, but you wanted anything he was willing to offer on the table.

he gently placed you on the bed, your eyes roaming down his figure and how he removed his belt with one hand, jude standing now in his boxers. you gulped nervously as he approached you, his eyes dark and filled with one thing. desire. the desire to have you. to taste you. to fuck you. jude could see it in your eyes too. it wasn’t hide or seek.

“all i could think about today was you. you in my jersey, the necklace with my initial, your ring. fuck baby,” he cursed, the words sounding like pure sins. he leaned down, removing your jeans and jersey, leaving you with your undergarments. jude came between your legs, kissing from the valley of your breasts up to your chin, his warm tongue, tracing your lip before kissing you messily.

“my lucky charm.”

your hands scratched his back, jude groaning as he pulled away and was kissing down your abs, the feeling of two wet kisses placed on your hip bones. you leaned up on your arms, watching intently as jude bite the inside of your knee, and kissed it softly after. his tongue traced all the way down to your inner thighs where you began you to close your legs due to the anticipation.

you were a shy mess when he went down on you, and it gave jude more of a thrill. his teeth pulled the string of your underwear down, the fabric snapping making you whimper. his fingers wasted no time and pulled your panties down and somewhere across the room. your breathing was ragged, the unsteady heartbeat, and the sudden warm of pool you felt down in your core. clenching around nothing.

“wanna show you just how much you mean to me darling. wanna taste you till i feel you cumming just for me,” he said almost possessive, you nodding rapidly and awaiting to see what he did next. you bit your lip and held back a moan when he blew cold air against your core. your stomach sucking in and chest raising before he could do anything.

“relax angel, we’re just getting started, i mean it when i say i’m going to appreciate and show you,” he kissed once more on your pelvis bone, before placing a kiss on your clit, already seeing stars. you clenched your legs together, jude grasping and pulling them apart as his tongue went below and licked your entrance all the way back up slowly. “holy fuck,” you shivered rolling your eyes and leaning backwards.

the soft kitty licks were sending you into an over drive, and this time there was no holding back any noises. he pulled and sucked your clit softly, the feeling indescribably from head to toe. if he kept doing that, you wouldn’t be able to hold back. you looked down to see his brown eyes already boring into you, a small bead of saliva dripping down against your core. jude then brought your closer to him, the push against your pussy making you gasp and moan his name loudly.

“shit jude, oh my-” your words cut off as he returned his movements, the soft licks and kisses against your core was making your head feel cloudy. your hand went up to squeeze your now harden nipples, edging your orgasm even closer. “taste so good, taste so sweet, could stay here all day,” he said making your legs shake. “please don’t stop, please, please,” you beg.

jude wanted to savor this moment forever. he was just as turned on as you were. his cock almost throbbing and begging to be touched. the small rock of your hips made him want to bring your closer to your orgasm even more. he traced your entrance with two fingers, plunging them deep and curving them in that exact spot, hearing the cries of pleasure you let out.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you unravel, eyes squeezed shut as you felt that knot grow in your tummy. jude didn’t plan to stop, his fingers deep in you as he continued to lick and suck your clit evidently. “i’m so close, j-jude, s-so c-c-close,” you struggled to stay. “don’t hold back, i can feel you, i can feel how close you are, cum baby, cum for me,” jude growled.

you moaned louder, the out bursting as your legs shake, panting as you pushed jude’s head away, the feeling too overpowering. speckles of black invaded your vision, your body hot and convulsing with the aftershocks from your orgasm. the pleasure he gave you was just to much, but you weren’t complaining because you felt more than satisfied.

he kissed your hip bone, tracing his initial against your skin before leaning up and kissing you deeply. his tongue inviting the taste of yourself into your mouth, making both of you pull away content and relaxed. “i don’t know what i did to deserve you,” you admit jokingly, jude letting out a chuckle. “you’re my whole world y/n, my entire being. without you i’m nothing,” jude says.

“your what again? your lucky charm,” you mock, seeing jude smile and nod. “yes my lucky charm, i wholeheartedly swear by it. whether it’s here in madrid or london, the luck you bring to me is always a winner for me,” jude says hearing as you let out a small tired giggle. “what? you don’t believe me?” jude retorts raising his brow in a testing manner. you shook your head no, testing the waters by leaning up and getting close to his lips.

“guess you’ll have to show me then.”

[haveagarbageday]

Got a secret, can you keep it? \\ Charles Leclerc, Max Verstappen (Lestappen)

summary: You're looking for your runaway driver in the paddock when you see something you shouldn't have. Before you know it, you become a part of this well-kept secret.

additional info: I'm on a roll! No, actually, I posted the Max one while I was at work, and then I had half a day left with nothing to do. This idea came to my mind and I had to write it down.

“The moment I find you, Lando, I’m going to skin you,” you hissed into your phone as you searched the paddock for the problem child.

But he only laughed at you, clearly enjoying the hide and seek game he had decided to play with you today. The problem is that he stopped in front of a camera, ready to give an interview, but two sentences in, his attention was diverted by some drama in the background, and he left to check it out. You had to apologize several times, promising to catch him and drag him back to do this properly. But damn it, he was good at hiding. This wasn’t the first time he hid from you, and something told you he could be literally anywhere, even in another team’s motorhome. Anything was possible with this little gremlin.

You reached a quieter part of the paddock that was full of spaces protected from the crowd, the perfect spot for Lando to hide. So, you methodically began to search for him, not missing any of the hidden corners and narrow alleys between the buildings either, but you found nothing. Your frustration was growing with each passing second, with each empty space that seemed to be free of him. When you reached the last one of the alleys, you saw movement in the back, and you were happy that you finally found the runaway driver.

Well, you couldn’t be more wrong. Because it wasn’t Lando, and it wasn’t just one person either. The signature blue and red colors of their shirts made it clear which team they were from, but when you looked at their faces, blood froze in your veins. You knew about all the jokes, all the fan theories and hopes, but never, not even in your wildest dreams could you imagine this happening. Sure, they clearly looked more at ease in each other’s company after sessions in recent years, which was good, people loved it, yet you still couldn’t wrap your head around the sight in front of you.

After seeing them almost swallow each other, Lestappen wasn’t just an urban legend to you anymore. Fuck. You wished you didn’t see that. You could already feel the heavy weight on your shoulder.

Before they could spot you, you decided to do the sensible thing and turned around to leave as quietly and as soon as you could. But not two steps later you heard a voice behind you. “Wait, let’s talk about this, okay?” Max said, taking a step closer to you, his hand resting on Charles’s arm.

Letting out the breath you’d been holding, you folded your hands behind your back and took a step closer to them. “I didn’t see anything, I swear. My lips are sealed, you don’t need to worry about that,” you were quick to assure them. Silence fell between the three of you, but then you remembered why you were here in the first place. “Have you guys seen Lando? He’s being difficult today.”

“Have you tried his driver’s room? He’s probably in the most obvious place,” Max offered, knowing the Brit well enough to give you his best guess.

Okay, you already knew he was smart, but this was the best idea you had heard in a while. Lando would surely pull something like this; chilling in his room, maybe playing some games, then giving you a surprised look as he went: “What do you mean? I’ve been here the whole time!” Wouldn’t be the first prank he pulled on you, that’s for sure.

You thanked him, then turned to leave again, and this time they didn’t stop you. But you heard murmuring, a quiet conversation that didn’t sound panicked, in fact, it sounded like they were discussing something excitedly. Whatever it was, it wasn’t your business. None of this was your business, so you were trying your damn best to forget the whole thing.

The problems began the next day after qualifying, when you were in the media pen with Lando, watching him like a hawk, and shepherding him around to make sure he did exactly what he was supposed to. You were between two interviews, discussing a few things, when Max approached you and stopped next to you to talk to his friend. You greeted him like you normally would, but otherwise you didn’t dare to move or speak, afraid it would become obvious you were hiding something. It probably takes time to get comfortable with the secret you knew, it couldn’t be more than that.

But then you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body as Max casually put a hand on your back while he talked, making it look like it was just a friendly move and nothing more. How could this be an innocent move when you could feel his thumb pressing into your skin, drawing slow circles to drive you crazy? You glanced over at him, and you could have sworn you saw a smug smirk tugging at his lips for a moment when he felt your eyes on him.

Lando was oblivious to the whole scene, he was just smiling brightly and giggling as they talked, too lost in their conversation to notice the way the Red Bull driver teased you. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the reporter you’d been waiting for signal you that they were ready for the chat with your driver, so you apologized for interrupting them, then gently pushed him in the right direction. This left you and Max alone, and he finally let his hand drop to his side as he turned to you, the mischievous glint in his eyes giving away that whatever he was about to say would make you mad.

“How does it feel to know?” he asked casually, sipping on his Red Bull as if you were talking about the weather. Your eyes turned to him, silently begging him to drop this topic, but he didn’t seem to be interested in letting you off the hook. “We talked last night, you know. It feels so good that someone apart from the two of us knows the truth. Seriously, it’s so tiring to hide from the whole world, not having the chance to talk about the highs and the lows or ask for an outsider’s opinion when there’s a fight or disagreement.”

At first, you were just the kind of friend they’d been waiting for, serving as a neutral outsider when they needed another opinion about something. Then you began to hang out with them, one at the time, eventually serving as a glue between the two rivals who hadn’t really been seen together outside the paddock. Because one day you followed a well-prepared choreography at a bistro, making it look like you were out with Charles, while Max jumped in to get some food to go. Then you noticed each other, started talking, and he ended up taking a seat and joining you for dinner.

The same thing happened a few weeks later, when you and Max went to a club, where surprise, surprise, Charles showed up to greet you. The three of you got comfortable on a curvy couch in a corner of the VIP section, downing shots like there was no tomorrow, too lost in your little bubble to notice what you were doing. Because Max had an arm around your shoulder, talking to you while Charles moved forward to capture your lips in a drunken kiss, and only then did you catch the Dutchman whisper into your ear how much fun the three of you could have if you went home with them that night.

You only realized their relationship turned into your relationship, when Lando asked you about a photo of the three of you hanging out in the paddock on a race weekend, chatting and joking freely over your breakfasts. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with them off the track too. Why don’t you ever hang out with me when you’re in Monaco? You’re so mean,” he said with a pout.

Friends. That’s what you were for outsiders. It was good. With the days spent together getting more frequent though, you knew it was only a matter of time before someone sniffed out the truth. All the nights spent tangled up in bed, with the two of them making a competition out of pulling as many orgasms out of you as they could, surely had a toll on you. Physically, you were more than okay, they made sure of that, but being in this relationship was surely difficult to handle mentally.

“I’m not hanging out with you, you muppet, because I might drown you in a glass of water after five minutes. Babysitting you on race weekends is more than enough, thank you,” you told him with your tongue stuck out.

This conversation made you think, it made you reconsider what you’d been doing in the past months with the boys. For one, it was a dangerous game. Hanging out together more and more, especially when you were at a place where they couldn’t keep themselves under control thanks to the level of alcohol in their bloodstreams, the risk of someone finding out their little secret was higher than before you had been dragged into their life. Then there was the fact that you felt like shit. It felt like you were a piece that didn’t fit. They were so good together, why would you stand between them?

You knew that ending a relationship in a text was the worst, but you didn’t want to give them the chance to start negotiating. So, after the race weekend was over, you sent them a text that you wouldn’t go with them this time, then left the group chat, blocked the both of them, and got on the plane back home. The plan was simple: you would spend a few days watching movies and TV shows that were in your backlog while eating unhealthy snacks, and maybe you would meet some of your friends if they still remembered you.

What could possibly go wrong with that?

Well, everything. It was only your first full day at home when your doorbell rang in the early afternoon, and when you opened it, you found a very disheveled Charles standing there, watching you with a disapproving look on his face. You were ready to tell him to leave you alone, but then he gave you the puppy eyes as he let out a tired sigh, and there was no way you could shut the door in his face. You stepped aside and let him in, stopping in the living room door as you watched him sit down on the couch, and when he patted the empty space next to him, you were stupid enough to do exactly what he wanted. If things went like this, you would agree to whatever he came up with. 

“Blocking us? Really?” he asked you, the hint of disappointment not missing from his voice. “You could’ve at least talked to us in person, give us a proper explanation instead of disappearing like that. What the hell were you thinking? We would meet at race weekends anyway, you can’t think we wouldn’t corner you there.”

Looking away, you gulped and thought about what to say. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many stupid, fake explanations for your decision, but deep inside you knew you had to be honest with him. “You were fine together, Charles. Before I found out the truth, you had everything under control, and you were happy. But then you dragged me into your little secret, eventually poisoning our so-called friendship with casual sex, and–”

“So-called friendship? And casual sex?” he asked, his head slightly tilted to the side, eyes narrowed as he watched you. “Did it ever mean anything to you?” 

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. You really liked them, but the fact their relationship had a lot more history always made you feel like someone who didn’t belong. To you it was casual, just an outlet for getting rid of all the stress your job and keeping their secret came with. Just sex, nothing more. No emotions were supposed to be involved. Sure, they were friends, but it wasn’t love.

Apparently, you were an open book to Charles, because he ran a hand through his hair with a groan as he watched you. “We trusted you.”

“You can still trust me, I won’t tell anyone,” you assured him. 

He let out a desperate laugh. “It’s not that kind of trust, we know you wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m talking about us, about our relationship. We thought you felt the same way we did, that you loved us too. You could’ve been honest, you could’ve told us it didn’t mean anything to you before we caught feelings,” he told you, his voice forced to stay calm. 

“Charles, just try to hear me out. The two of you, that’s the relationship that can work in the long term,” you began to explain. “Me? I’m just… I don’t even know what I was to you. A plaything? A brand new shiny toy?”

“You’re not some toy!” he snapped, finally showing you how he truly felt about this conversation. “You, Max, and me? This could work so well if you just stopped being stubborn. Okay, I admit, we never thought about the possibility of a relationship like this, we always thought it would be just the two of us, but that’s because we had to keep it a secret. But you finding us that day? That was the best thing that could happen to us. We love you just as much as we love each other, that’s what you need to understand,” he explained as he grabbed your chin to force you to look at him. 

You took a deep breath to calm yourself, but the way he was watching you, silently begging you to accept the truth… It was too much. Tears began to roll down your cheeks, but he wiped them away, he kept telling you that it was okay, that everything would be okay, and there was no reason to cry. He repeated this enough times to make you believe it. You were beginning to believe they truly loved you, and you actually thought about the possibility of continuing this from where you had left off. Once your tears stopped coming, he leaned in to kiss you with a small smile on his lips. 

His stupid green eyes were mesmerizing as he watched you, and no matter how hard you wanted to resist, how badly you wanted to be strong and step back, you just couldn’t get yourself to say no to him. Sadly, he was well aware of this ability of his, he had used it on both Max and you a few times before to get what he wanted, and this time he looked just as smug as he always did after a win. 

“Pack a suitcase, because you’re coming with me,” he whispered to you. “Until you get ready, I’ll call Max to tell him the good news.” 

You began to wonder how long it would take you to admit to yourself just how important they had always been to you. Because they were important, no matter how many times you told yourself this meant nothing to you, otherwise you wouldn't be in your bedroom now, packing the suitcase as he asked. You wanted to please him, you wanted them to be happy, and why would you feel this way if you were indifferent?

Maybe this time you would be able to let yourself go and enjoy the relationship, and you would finally believe this could work.

As you were thinking about this, your phone that you left on your nightstand began to vibrate and the screen lit up. You picked it up and saw a message from Lando: “Have you seen this? Max's jet is at an airport near you, but I know for a fact he's at home. WHAT ARE YOU HIDING????”

Okay, maybe letting yourself go wasn't an option.

[ak319]

Lovesick Childhood friend x f!reader

Headcanon / Intro

Warnings: This story contains matriarchal themes, fem dom such as mpreg, fem dominated world, role reversal, and BXG pairing! Yes, it's a boy x girl, so don't interact if you are uncomfortable! Gonna have historical themes, little age gap (3 years) in terms of historical times, heavy angst, fluff, pining, and drama. The art is not mine, it's from Pinterest. Enjoy reading. ─ m.lists

"but you know what they say,

you can't help who you fall for

and you and I fell

like an early spring snow...."

─────────

1917

"Orsen, you’d better finish your food before you run off to play. Got it?"

"Yes, Papa!" Orsen nodded dutifully, but his gaze betrayed him, fixed on the window behind his father. His eight-year-old eyes sparkled with mischief as he struggled to suppress giggles. Out in the garden, you were pulling faces and breaking into an exaggerated, clumsy dance, clearly determined to make him laugh.

He had to finish his food quickly, before his father noticed anything. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of you getting a light smack on the back of your head from your mother, the estate gardener, who scolded you for goofing off. Orsen bit his lip to stifle a grin.

Without a second thought, he wolfed down the rest of his meal. His father’s disapproving gaze burned into him as he muttered something about unmanly behavior and lack of etiquette. But Orsen didn’t care, not one bit. Ignoring the reprimands, he dashed out of the room when his plate was empty, proving his father right in the process.

But none of that mattered. He’d kept you waiting long enough already.

"Finally! You eat too slow and... way too much for someone the size of a squirrel," you teased, crossing your arms with a smirk.

That earned you a swift smack on the chest from Orsen, who clearly had plenty of energy to spare. Ah, so that’s where it all goes, you thought with a grin.

"COME ON! LET'S START WITH A GAME OF CHASE, THEN HIDE-AND-SEEK!"

"You’re on!" you replied with mock seriousness, already taking off before Orsen could fully process the challenge.

And just like that, playtime began. You were eleven, three years older than him, and yeah, yeah, people might wonder why you spent your afternoons running around with the eight-year-old son of Lady Isolde. Because you were made to since he needed a playmate. You didn’t mind and if you were being honest, it was fun.

"You're too slow, Orsen!" you call out, weaving between the trees with practiced ease.

"I'm not slow! You're just taller!" Orsen huffs, his golden hair flying behind him like a ribbon as he tries to catch up. His laughter rings out, light and carefree, as he nearly trips over a tree root.

"Excuses, excuses," you tease, pausing just long enough for him to barrel into you, both of you tumbling to the ground in a heap.

"I got you!" Orsen declares, his soft hands gripping your arms triumphantly a stark comparison to yours , rough from helping your mother around the estate with tasks.

"You tackled me, not tagged me!" you laugh, sitting up and brushing dirt off your knees. "That’s against the rules."

"There are no rules in chase," he replies matter-of-factly, flicking his long blond hair over his shoulder like some princeling—and it makes you snort.

"Fine. No rules, huh? Then how about this?" Without warning, you spring to your feet and scoop him up by the waist, spinning him around while he squeals with laughter.

"Put me down, you IDIOT! I’ll get you back for this!"

"Sure you will," you grin, finally setting him down. His face is red from laughing so hard, but he immediately points to the swing hanging from the old oak tree nearby.

"Your turn to push me!"

"Your turn? When was it my turn?" you ask, feigning exasperation but already making your way to the swing.

Orsen is already climbing onto it. You steady the ropes for him, watching as he gets comfortable, his small hands gripping tightly. "Ready?"

"Ready!"

With a firm push, you send the swing into motion, the wood creaking softly under Orsen’s weight. He leans back, his laughter filling the air as the wind tousles his golden locks. "Higher!" he demands, his voice bright and full of life.

"Careful, you’ll go flying straight into the bushes," you joke, though you give him another push, watching as his laughter spills into the air like music.

"And you’d rescue me," he counters, turning his head to flash you a grin.

"Obviously," you reply, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself. Or else your mother would make soup out of my bones if you even got a scratch.

"See? I’m safe as long as you’re here," he says, his voice lighter, softer, as the swing slows with the waning light. The golden glow of the setting sun paints him in warm hues, his hair a tousled mess, his cheeks pink from play.

You ruffle his hair as he climbs off the swing, earning an indignant squeak. "We should do this every day," he murmurs, looking up at you with those wide, trusting eyes that seem to hold the whole world.

"Yeah," you say quietly, a fond smile tugging at your lips. "Every day, Orsen."

And in that moment, you mean it.

1922

"Brother Orsen?" Rowan called, tugging at his older brother’s sleeve. "She’s calling for you."

Orsen, now 13, was sitting in front of his vanity, carefully sorting through his collection of accessories. He didn’t bother looking up, too absorbed in his task.

The 5-year-old huffed, folding his arms. "She’s calling you to play, not to do a fashion show."

"SHUSH! Rowan, come here for a second!" Orsen snapped, his tone light but firm. Rowan grumbled under his breath but walked over, clearly itching to be anywhere but here.

"Okay, so listen," Orsen began, lowering his voice even further as he picked up a necklace from his collection. "Which one should I wear?"

"Necklace?" Rowan blinked, his frustration barely contained. "You’re gonna wear a necklace to play?"

Orsen rolled his eyes dramatically. "Look, we are not playing instead (Y/N) is taking me out to see a play! To a theatre!"

Rowan’s expression softened at the mention of (Y/N)'s name. "A play? Really?"

"Yes, really!" Orsen grinned, his tone proud but slightly embarrassed. "It’s a big deal. I want to look my best."

Rowan exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief before quickly quieting down. "B-but mama and papa aren’t home! They told us to stay inside the manor, and what about the stupid nanny? I’m so over him-"

"This is exactly what I’m telling you!" Orsen pleaded, his voice low but desperate. "Just cover up for me, please! And even if Elias finds out, he won’t get mad or tell anyone, I swear, but the other servants, they can’t know, got it?"

Rowan frowned, clearly conflicted. "Are you going on... what mama and papa go to? What’s it called... um... a date?"

Orsen’s ears turned bright red, and a warmth spread through him, making his heart race in an unfamiliar way. His hand paused mid-air, the necklace he was holding slipping slightly as his mind began to swirl. A date. Was it a date? His chest tightened, a fluttering sensation moving through him. He tried to push it down, telling himself it was ridiculous. It was just (Y/N). But still... the thought of being alone with her, of seeing her smile...of being beside her...sitting so close to her...

"Ugh, I-" Orsen’s voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, hoping Rowan wouldn’t notice the redness creeping up his neck. "It’s not a date, okay? Just... something like that."

Rowan raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he sighed dramatically and crossed his arms. "Fine, fine, I’ll cover for you. But you owe me big time, Orsen."

Orsen smiled, his heart still racing. "Thanks, Rowan. You’re the best."

Rowan shot him a sly grin before walking out of the room. "Just don’t get caught, alright?"

Orsen watched him go, still feeling the heat of that unexpected moment, his thoughts full of the image of (Y/N) waiting for him. A date... He could only hope she saw it that way too.

The sunlight poured through the trees, casting long shadows on the garden path as you stood by the gate, tapping your foot impatiently. Orsen was late—again. You couldn’t help but smirk, leaning casually against the stone wall, arms crossed and eyes scanning the road ahead.

You had to admit, though, it was kind of cute how he always managed to show up just a little bit after you, acting like you weren’t already getting a head start on your impatience. He always had that timid, apologetic look on his face, but it was like he couldn't help it. It was endearing, even if it drove you crazy sometimes.

Finally, you spotted him.

When he saw you, his face broke into that shy smile, the one that always made your stomach flip, and you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him.

“Took you long enough,” you called out with a cocky grin, straightening up as he came closer. “Did your vanity mirror take longer than usual?”

Orsen flushed, immediately looking down at the ground, his fingers nervously brushing at the edge of his shirt. He bit his lip, clearly flustered. “I-I wasn’t... I mean, I was just making sure I looked decent,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "And...was just convincing Rowan to cover up."

“It’s fine,” you assured him, though you couldn’t stop the teasing note that slipped into your voice. “But I almost thought you weren’t going to show.”

He looked genuinely apologetic, his blue eyes wide and full of that quiet sincerity that always made your heart twist a little. “I wouldn’t leave you waiting, (Y/N),” he murmured, his hand tugging nervously at the sleeve of his shirt. “I promise.”

You felt the warmth in his words more than anything else, and it made your smile falter for just a second. Orsen was the kind of person who always tried to do the right thing, even when it wasn’t easy. He wasn’t like the other boys in the town, so confident and sure of themselves. No, Orsen was gentle, and careful, always thinking about others before himself. You could see that quiet, understanding gaze under his straw cartwheel hat , in the way he looked at you now.

“Well, if you’re sure,” you said, your voice softening, “we should probably get going before someone else notices, huh?”

“Yeah,” Orsen agreed, his expression turning a little more serious as he looked over his shoulder. He glanced up and down the street, making sure no one was watching, before taking a step closer to you. “Are you sure about this? I know it’s... a little risky.”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of your decision in the pit of your stomach, but when you looked at Orsen’s face, you felt a little lighter. There was no teasing now, no jokes, just his quiet concern, and for once, it made you feel like maybe this was worth it. You nodded.

“I’m sure,” you whispered back, then added with a hint of a smile, “It’ll be fun.”

“You really are...” He shook his head, his lips curving into a smile despite himself. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?” You raised an eyebrow, giving him a challenging look. “Make everything seem like it’s no big deal? Maybe because it’s not. And you’re going to learn that today.”

He hesitated for a moment, but when you stepped forward and grabbed his sleeve to pull him toward the playhouse, he followed without protest.

Orsen’s heart skipped a beat as your hand enveloped his, and the warmth of your touch sent a flutter of butterflies through him. His breath caught in his throat, and he couldn’t help but glance at you, his face turning a shade darker. He wasn’t sure why something as simple as you holding his hand made him feel so nervous, but it did. It wasn’t just the physical touch, it was the way you kept him close, guiding him gently, as if taking care of him.

You pulled him to the side of the sidewalk, positioning him on the inside to keep him safe from the traffic and the bustle of the crowd. He felt a sudden surge of warmth at how protective you were being, even if it was just a small gesture. His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t explain, and his steps faltered slightly as you kept him close to you, shielding him from the rest of the world.

His heart raced, faster than it should have, as his mind wandered to those quiet moments when you became reserved, especially during functions. When he told you he was going to one or whenever they were held at the estate, your demeanor always seemed to shift. He noticed the way your gaze would turn sharp and distant, your movements brisk and careful, as though you were trying to shrink away. He hated it.

He hated seeing you as just part of the crowd, working tirelessly around the estate, your hands busy with tasks instead of resting in his. Most of all, he hated the functions themselves. Because while you were stuck there, unspoken and unnoticed, he was dolled up, standing with the sons and daughters of elites, smiling politely in a world that felt hollow. And maybe… maybe you hated that too.

Maybe you hated seeing him like that, all pretty, polished, and mingling with other people, particularly the daughters of noble families, ones his parents made sure he was somewhat acquainted with. Maybe you thought he belonged in that world, with them, rather than here with you.

The thought made his steps falter. A pang of desperation hit him. If only you knew. If only you knew that no crowd, no daughter of any elite, could ever hold his attention like you did.

To him, it didn’t matter how the world saw you or him, what mattered was this. You, walking beside him. You, pulling him to the safer side of the sidewalk. You, shielding him, even when you didn’t know that he was already yours.

At the theatre gate, you hesitated briefly before pulling out the money, the ache in your chest barely masked by the small smile you gave. Each coin was hard-earned, saved from days of labor at the Elaris estate and neighboring homes. As you handed it over, Orsen stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against yours for just an instant. The gesture was fleeting but warm, like a silent promise that you were not alone.

“(Y/N)... I know it’s not much, but-” He started to say, then hesitated, biting his lip. “I really appreciate you doing this. For both of us.”

You smiled at him, a little softer this time. “You don’t have to thank me, Orsen,” you said gently. “I want to do this.”

His eyes softened, and he looked away briefly, cheeks flushing just a bit. “You always know how to make me feel... better,” he muttered under his breath. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. “Well, that's my job as your friend.” you replied, quietly. “I won’t go anywhere.”

He gave you a shy smile, more timid than usual. "I know..."

The moment passed quickly, but the quiet understanding between you both lingered as you walked into the theatre together, the world outside fading away. Orsen risked a glance at you, his gaze catching on the way the dim evening light outlined your sharp features. You looked so effortlessly composed, so handsome that it made his breath hitch for a moment. He felt a rush of warmth spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, his fingers brushing nervously against the ribbon under his chin as if it could steady him.

It didn’t matter that you were different. It didn’t matter that you came from different worlds. Right now, all that mattered was that you were both here, together, sharing this moment in time.

And for Orsen, that was enough.

── .✦

Orsen sat in his room, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the wooden desk, his mind still occupied with the discomfort that had settled over him the past few days. He hadn’t expected his body to feel like this, unfamiliar, heavy, and strange. The flow had come, just as his father and tutor had warned, but it didn’t make the experience any less confusing or jarring. He had kept to himself mostly, trying to adjust, trying to make sense of what it all meant.

A soft knock on the door broke his thoughts. He looked up quickly, his nerves suddenly tightening. His father, Lucan, stepped in, his posture rigid as always, his dark eyes scanning the room before landing on Orsen.

“Orsen,” Lucan began, his voice steady but tinged with an unfamiliar seriousness. "Wanted to talk about something, love."

Lucan stepped further into the room, his voice lowering, as if the matter was too delicate to say aloud in front of anyone else. “I and your mother think it’s time for you to stop... associating with (Y/N) for now.”

Orsen’s stomach twisted painfully. The words felt like a sharp blow to his chest, though he knew this was coming. His world, for the last few years, had been shared with (Y/N), the carefree days, the laughter, the moments when they were just two children playing in the garden or sneaking out to see a play. It was always natural, always easy, until now.

“Why?” Orsen’s voice cracked slightly, and he immediately regretted it, his cheeks burning as he stared down at the floor. “What did I do wrong? Wh-at did she do??”

Lucan sighed, a heavy sound that made Orsen feel smaller, as if he were a child again, needing to be controlled. "It’s not about you, Orsen. Your mother believes you should start focusing more on your responsibilities. You are no longer a child. Your a man and she...she's a woman. It’s time for you to stop playing games, stop seeking out... distractions."

Orsen felt his breath catch in his throat. Distractions. That’s how his parents saw (Y/N) now? His heart ached at the thought of never being able to run off and play with you again. It felt like the walls were closing in on him.

"You need to start preparing for your future," Lucan continued, not looking at Orsen directly, but at some point beyond him. “Your mother has plans for you, and she expects you to focus on your studies, your family name. No more distractions, Orsen. You’re growing into something much more than that."

The last words lingered in the air, and Orsen felt a sickening knot twist in his stomach. He wanted to argue, wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. Why should everything change now? But the words didn’t come. Instead, he simply nodded, his eyes brimming with the weight of it all.

Lucan turned to leave, but before he did, he paused at the door. “It’s for the best, son,” he said, his tone almost sympathetic. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but your mother’s decision is final.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and Orsen sat there, staring at the floor, his hands trembling. The world outside felt so far away now, like it was slipping through his fingers.

It was over. He couldn’t see (Y/N) anymore. He couldn’t run to her and find comfort in her presence. He couldn’t protect her or laugh with her. He was supposed to grow up. He was supposed to follow the path his family laid out for him, to grow into something else. To grow up for rather someone is more like it. To be a good man so that he can be a good husband...

But I’m not ready to let go, Orsen thought miserably. I can’t.

The evening had settled over the manor, but Orsen still hadn't left his room. He had feigned illness, citing exhaustion as the reason for his retreat, and, thankfully, his parents had bought it. His mother, as aloof as ever, didn’t press the matter too hard, but it was clear from the way she sent up his dinner that she wasn’t exactly pleased with him skipping meals. Nevertheless, they left him in solitude, and he barely touched the food. Just a few bites, enough to keep the appearance of complying with his parents' wishes.

You can't be with (Y/N) now...

The words circled in his mind like an endless loop, the cruel reminder of everything he’d just lost.

Society...

Family name...

And all that other bullshit...

Orsen couldn't suppress the bitter curses that slipped past his mental barriers, curses he'd only learned from you. Thanks to you, he had been exposed to the harsher truths of the world, the side that no one of his status was supposed to see, let alone understand. Without you, he would have remained ignorant, a sheltered boy in a world that seemed so far removed from the lives of people like you.

How could he just forget you? How could he ignore the way you made him feel so alive, so seen?

He wanted to lie to himself, to deny the truth, but it was becoming impossible. The feelings he had for you were not just those of a carefree childhood friendship. No, they had evolved into something far deeper, something he couldn’t bury beneath the expectations of his family and the rigid norms of society.

His mind swirled with the questions that had no answers. Had they told you? Did you know the news already? How would you have reacted?

Would you be heartbroken, too? Or would you simply move on, uncaring, as though he had never been a part of your life at all? After all, he was just the son of a lady of the manor, a wealthy, entitled boy. You, on the other hand, probably had your own circle, your own friends. Girls who shared your struggles, who truly understood your world in ways he never could.

The thought burned in his chest like a quiet, smoldering ache. Maybe there was even a boy among them, someone prettier, someone who fit into your life better than he ever could. Someone who could stand beside you without looking like a silly, awkward dreamer. The idea made his heart clench. He wanted to be everything you needed, but deep down, the fear whispered, what if you didn’t need him at all?

Orsen curled into himself, the loneliness settling over him like a suffocating weight. His heart ached with the thought of you, of how far apart he felt from you now. The girl who had been his closest friend, the one who had filled his life with laughter and mischief, now seemed like a distant memory, slipping through his fingers.

Would you even miss me? He couldn't stop the question from repeating itself.

But deep down, he knew the answer. You were strong, capable, too strong, too capable to be held back by someone like him. You had a life to live, a future that didn’t need him to make it complete. And he, a pampered boy who had always had everything handed to him, couldn’t keep up with that.

Still, his heart refused to listen to the logic of it all. It stubbornly clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a place for him in your life still.

But what if...

The thought was interrupted by a quiet sob he couldn’t suppress. His heart ached, and his tears fell unbidden, mixing with the confusion and sorrow that clouded his thoughts.

Just then, the soft patter of footsteps approached, and the door creaked open. Orsen barely registered the sound, too consumed by his own grief to notice at first. But when a small, tentative voice called out to him, it pierced through the fog of his sorrow.

“Orsen?” Rowan's voice was quiet, unsure.

Orsen didn't look up. He couldn't. Instead, he pulled his knees tighter to his chest, willing the tears to stop, though they kept coming. He didn’t want Rowan to see him like this. He was supposed to be the older brother, the one who protected him, the one who had all the answers. But now he felt like nothing more than a broken boy, helpless and alone.

Rowan, being much younger, didn't fully understand the weight of the situation, but he could sense the sadness in Orsen's hunched shoulders, in the way his older brother’s sobs shook his frame. Without hesitation, Rowan crossed the room and climbed onto the bed next to him, his small hands resting gently on Orsen’s arm.

"You’re not alone....You’ve still got me."

Orsen felt the warmth of Rowan’s hand, and it was enough to make him break down completely. The tears fell faster now, as if Rowan’s simple words had unlocked everything he had been holding in. He buried his face in his hands, trying to stifle the sobs, but it was useless. The pain was too much.

“I don’t know what to do, Rowan,” Orsen choked out between his sobs. “I... I don’t want to change. I don’t want to lose her. Why does everything have to be so... so different now?”

Rowan, though younger and not entirely understanding the complexities of the world they lived in, squeezed Orsen’s arm tighter. “Maybe it’s not forever,” he said quietly. “Maybe... maybe you can still be with (Y/N). You’re smart, Orsen. You’ll figure something out.”

Orsen let out a ragged breath, his body shaking as the tears slowly subsided. Rowan’s small voice, his unwavering support, gave him something to hold onto in that moment, something that felt like a lifeline.

“Thanks, Rowan,” Orsen whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "M-means a lot.."

Rowan smiled softly, his little hands patting Orsen’s arm as he snuggled closer. “You don’t have to. I’ll always be here, even when Mama and Papa tell you to stop playing with (Y/N). I'll always play with you!"

Orsen’s heart tightened. His little brother didn’t understand the full depth of what had just happened, but his words meant more than he could ever say. In this moment, Rowan was the one keeping him together, the one showing him that, even when everything seemed to fall apart, he wasn’t truly alone.

── .✦

He was perched at the balcony window, the cool breeze tousling his long, silky hair as he gazed out at the garden below. His fingers lightly gripped the edge of the windowsill as he watched you, working diligently on the grounds below.

You were cutting logs, a task far more physical than what Orsen was used to seeing you do. Your movements were strong, your muscles flexing with every swing of the axe, and it sent a strange flutter through his chest. His eyes followed the rhythm of your body, the way your arms tensed with the exertion. There was something undeniably powerful in the way you moved, a raw strength that both mesmerized and unsettled him.

Orsen swallowed hard, his heart skipping a beat as you wiped the sweat from your brow, revealing the determined glint in your eyes. His breath hitched in his throat as he couldn’t help but admire the way your body worked, every movement fluid and precise. The sight of you, the girl who had always been by his side, now growing into someone completely different, had his thoughts running wild.

Stop it, he told himself, gripping the windowsill a little tighter. This is wrong. She’s... His mind stumbled over the words, his heart desperately trying to calm the fluttering sensation that wouldn’t go away.

You didn’t seem to notice him at first, too focused on your task, but then, by some miracle, your eyes found his. For a moment, time seemed to stretch as your gaze locked onto his, and Orsen’s heart raced in his chest. There was something about the way you looked at him, a kind of unspoken acknowledgment as if you knew exactly what he was feeling without him saying a word.

He quickly forced himself to look away, his face flushing with heat, but not before giving a small, almost timid wave. His fingers, still gripping the windowsill, trembled slightly from the nervousness coursing through him.

You gave a quick wave back, then turned your attention back to the task at hand, but the simple exchange was enough to send a shiver of excitement through him. He leaned against the window frame, his chest tight with something he couldn’t quite name.

The quiet, pounding ache in his chest deepened. He was stuck, trapped behind this invisible barrier that kept him from stepping outside, from being close to you in the way he wanted. You, with your strength and duties, your hands working like they knew no other way of being. And him, trapped in this gilded cage, unable to touch you, talk to you.... to even get close.

His eyes followed your every movement, as if he could somehow close the gap between the two of you just by watching. The ache in his chest grew heavier, and the question hung in his mind like a dark cloud: Why am I feeling like this?

You didn’t even know, did you? Or maybe you did, but... what difference did it make? His hand tightened on the windowsill as he let out a quiet sigh. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say. Just... watch.

── .✦

The days passed slowly for Orsen after that encounter. Each morning, he would wake up with an uneasy knot in his stomach, knowing he couldn’t be near you. He could only watch you from his window, his heart aching with every glimpse of you working in the garden, your hands strong and graceful, yet out of his reach.

But then, one day, a small note arrived. It was discreet, slipped under the door to his room by Rowan, who seemed to have caught onto the secret in his own innocent way. Orsen unrolled the crumpled piece of paper, his heart pounding.

I see you watching me these days, Orsen. Are you going to keep staring, or are you finally going to talk to me? Don't be afraid...

Orsen stared at the words, a soft blush rising to his cheeks. You, you, had noticed. He carefully folded the note and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt before his parents could catch him with it. His heart raced, but there was a comfort in knowing you felt something too.

Over the next few weeks, the notes began to come more frequently. They were always passed through Rowan, always discreet, and always full of the teasing, playful energy that Orsen both craved and feared.

One evening, Orsen received another note. This one was a little longer than the others, the ink scrawled with hurried words.

I’m starting to think you’re too shy to talk to me in person, Orsen. It’s just a letter. Why don’t you send me one back? Are you really just going to end our friendship like this...? I am worried for you too...Please answer..

Orsen’s hands trembled slightly as he read the note. He had never written to anyone like this before. He had never had a reason to hide his words. But you, you made him feel things he couldn’t understand, things that burned and twisted inside him every time he thought about you. And now, you were asking for him to write.

The next afternoon, he couldn’t stand it anymore. Taking a deep breath, he took up his pen and began to write:

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to talk to you, not like this. But I think about you. All the time. I can’t stop. But they said to...not to...I want to though. Every day...

It was simple, just a few words, but it felt like the world was contained in that tiny letter. He sealed it carefully, not wanting anyone to find it. Rowan, ever the accomplice, delivered it the next morning.

The day passed in anticipation, and soon, he received your reply.

So you're shy, huh? That’s alright, Orsen. But if you want to see me, if you want to talk to me... I’ll be in the garden tomorrow at noon. I’ll wait. They won't catch us. I promise.

Right... No one would know. It would just be you and him. Just like you promised.

That night, he barely slept, the thought of seeing you in the garden swirling in his mind. And as soon as the clock struck noon the next day, he snuck out of his room and slipped through the hallways of the manor, his heart thundering in his chest.

There, in the garden, you waited. The sun was high, and the breeze was soft. You were working again, your back turned to him as you cleared some weeds. His footsteps were quiet as he approached, but you heard them.

You turned around, your eyes meeting his. The playful glint in them was gone, replaced with something softer, something warmer.

“You came,” you said, smiling slightly. “I thought you might be too scared.”

Orsen’s face flushed, but he nodded, his heart racing in his chest. “I wasn’t sure… but I wanted to see you. I didn’t know how to say it.”

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “Well,” you said with a sly smile, “you’ve said it now.”

He swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. But you didn’t give him time to think. You reached out and placed your hand on his arm, the touch sending a shock of warmth through him.

As he looked into your eyes, the teasing, playful energy that once defined their interactions was gone. Now, there was only a quiet understanding, a deep yearning that neither of them could ignore any longer.

Orsen’s breath caught in his throat. His body was still, heart racing, as you gently cupped his face, your thumb brushing the faint line of his jaw. His hands hovered at his sides, unsure what to do, but every part of him screamed to hold you.

"You’ve been so quiet, Orsen," you whispered, your voice softer than he’d ever heard it before. "What’s on your mind?"

The question hung in the air, but before Orsen could form a response, his gaze flickered to your lips. His heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, he leaned in...you did too. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, standing in the middle of the garden.

And then, as if drawn together by some invisible force, your lips met.

The kiss was hesitant at first, tender and shy like two people testing the waters of something new and forbidden. But it didn’t take long for the hesitance to melt away. Orsen's hands found their way to your collar, pulling you closer as if he could feel you slipping away with each passing second. Your hands gripped his slender waist holding him firmly in place as you lost yourself in the feeling of his soft plump lips.

The kiss deepened, and Orsen felt the weight of everything he had been holding back, the feelings, the longing, the fear of losing you, all come crashing down in that single moment. He wanted to say so much, but all he could do was hold onto you as if his life depended on it.

Finally, when they broke apart, Orsen was breathless, his forehead resting against yours. He opened his eyes to find you gazing down at him, your face flushed and your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

"I… I don’t know what to say," he murmured, his voice unsteady.

You smiled softly, running a finger across his jawline, as if reassuring him. "You don’t have to say anything."

But then, your expression shifted, and Orsen could see the uncertainty in your eyes. It was like a sudden weight had descended on you, something you couldn’t hold back any longer.

You pulled away slightly, looking away from him for the first time in their brief encounter.

"I have to tell you something," you said, your voice tinged with sadness. "I’ve been trying to avoid saying it, but you deserve to know."

Orsen’s heart clenched at the seriousness in your tone. "What is it? You’re scaring me."

You took a deep breath, your gaze returning to his. "I’m being...drafted into the army. I leave in two weeks for training."

Orsen's face drained of color. The words didn't fully sink in at first, but as they did, a chill ran through him. "What do you mean? You’re going away?"

"I have no choice," you said quietly, looking down at the ground. "I have to go. You know I always...wanted that and my mother wants it too. I passed the test. And will have to leave for...I don't know yet. Could be an...year."

The weight of her words hit him like a physical blow. He reached out instinctively, taking your hands in his, as if holding onto you could somehow change everything.

"But we just-" Orsen’s voice cracked. "We just… we just had a kiss. And now you’re leaving?"

You nodded, wiping the tear slipping down his cheek. "I never wanted this. I never wanted to hurt you. But I have no choice. This is what’s expected of me."

Orsen’s heart ached, but as he looked into your eyes, he knew there was nothing he could do to change it. The world was too big, too complicated, and he was just a rich boy who wasn’t allowed to have what he wanted.

He stepped back, releasing your hands, and turned his back to you. He couldn’t let you see the way his eyes were welling with tears.

He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I didn’t even get to tell you, h-ow much I care about you. And now yo-u’re leaving."

You stepped closer again, gently touching his shoulder, your voice soft. "I care about you too, Orsen. But there’s nothing I can do. I’ll be back. I promise. It's not a big deal. Please...don't cry. I want to see you smile...before I leave...."

"But how long? What if we never-"

"We will," you whispered firmly. "When I come back, I’ll find you. We’ll figure this out, together."

Orsen turned to face you then, a smile weakly tugging at the corner of his lips despite the heaviness in his chest. "I’ll be waiting for you."

"I am doing this...for us. I---I have felt this way about you for very long...and I now know you did too. So... when I return," you said, your voice firm with conviction, "I’ll ask for your hand."

Orsen’s heart stopped for a second. The words you spoke were like a breath of fresh air in a world that had felt suffocating. But then, a cold, sinking feeling crept into his chest. He swallowed hard, his thoughts racing.

"I…" He shook his head, his voice faltering. "My mother… she’ll never allow it. I can’t-"

"Don’t worry about her," you cut him off gently. "When I return, we’ll figure it out. I’ll fight for us. I am not a coward. I won’t let anything stand in the way of what we have."

But Orsen’s mind was already racing, and despite the warmth your words brought, doubt gnawed at him. His mother, Isolde Elaris, a businesswoman, would never allow him to be with someone like you. She would never approve. And no matter how much he might want to be with you, he couldn’t ignore the reality of his world.

Still, as you gazed at him with such earnestness, he found himself nodding, almost against his will.

"I’ll be waiting for you, just like I said, promise. Be safe...for me...please (Y/N)...." Orsen whispered, his voice barely audible, but filled with all the hope he had left.

With that you pulled him into a warm embrace that seemed to melt all his worries, his hands gripping you like a lifeline.

1923

One year later...

You had returned.

A year of training had shaped you into someone different, not just physically, but in ways you couldn’t have imagined. At 17, you were a Junior Sergeant, a rank earned through sheer grit. You hadn’t just survived the grueling regimen; you had thrived in it. Yet, despite all that, none of it felt quite as important as the task ahead.

Convincing your mother had been no easy feat. It took more strength than any of your drills to get her to agree to accompany you today. But, in the end, she relented. She didn’t speak much as you both traveled, but the tension in the air was thick with her reservations.

You heard the standard protests from your parents.

"What if we get kicked out?!"

"There is no match between us and them."

"You’re saying she will marry her son only for him to live in the servant quarters of the manor?!"

"I just want to ask for his hand, not bring him here!" you snapped, your voice steady with the weight of your resolve. "Just an engagement, nothing more, until I’ve found my footing. My own house, where we can all live, where we’ll be happy."

Your words were filled with confidence that stemmed from the one thing that motivated you, the love you had for Orsen. It wasn’t about status, not about titles, or what others thought. It was about him. It was about making him happy, seeing him smile, and one day—maybe soon, building a family with him.

Your mother’s protests quieted as she looked at you, still skeptical but, perhaps, beginning to understand the depth of your determination.

"I will fight for him," you said softly, almost to yourself. "I’ll do whatever it takes."

Orsen’s breath hitched in his chest, his sweaty palm almost crushing his younger brother Rowan's. Both of them stood just outside the drawing room, where you and your mother were speaking with his parents. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of what you had just said, and Orsen’s anxiety surged with each passing second of silence. He could barely comprehend it, you had said it. You had confessed your love, asking for his hand.

The silence was broken by a furious, sharp voice that made Orsen's heart drop into his stomach.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Isolde shot up from her seat, her eyes blazing with fury as she pointed an accusatory finger in your direction.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN COME HERE AND ASK FOR MY SON’S HAND, THE ONE WHOSE SINGLE SHOE COSTS MORE THAN YOUR ENTIRE QUARTERS?!” Her voice rang with disgust, the insult heavy in the air.

Orsen felt his knees threaten to give way. He had known his mother would react this way, hell, he had feared it. But hearing her say those words about you, about what you meant to him... It hurt more than he could have imagined.

"Love... love is not something that you weigh, Ms. Elaris." Your mother gripped your arm tightly as a warning, her fingers pressing into your skin as she tried to pull you away, her voice full of urgency. She muttered apologies under her breath, but you remained rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead. Isolde’s presence loomed closer, her fury palpable in the thick tension of the room.

"Oh really?" Isolde sneered, stepping forward with venom in her voice. "Well, your pathetic and nasty feelings towards my son WON'T KEEP HIM FED! IT WILL ONLY RUIN EVERYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH HIM, WHICH IS MY FUCKING NAME THAT I BUILT!"

Her words sliced through the air like a blade, but you stood your ground, not backing down, your voice steady despite the knot of anger rising in your throat. "You think I would have come here for something as trivial as commitment just to let him starve? We both love each other-"

"DON'T FUCKING SAY HIS NAME, YOU-" Isolde's face contorted with rage. Before you could even react, she struck you across the face, the sharp sting of her palm sending shockwaves through your head.

The sound of the smack echoed in the room, and it was all Orsen needed to hear. He couldn’t take it anymore.

"NO! MAMA! Don't hurt her!" His voice broke through the tension, desperate and raw. He dashed into the room, his eyes wide with panic and pain, his feet carrying him faster than his mind could catch up. The sight of you, standing there with a reddened cheek and your heart in turmoil, pushed him past his breaking point.

"Don’t you dare!" he cried out, trying to rush toward you, as his father stopped him.

Isolde turned to her husband, rage still boiling in her voice. "YOU LET THEM PLAY WHEN I TOLD YOU NOT TO!" she screamed. "See?! This is what it fucking results in!"

Orsen ignored her, his focus entirely on you, on the hurt she had caused, and the way it shattered him to see you suffer. He reached for you, but his father blocked his path, forcefully holding him back.

"NO! STOP!" Orsen sobbed, the sight of you being dragged away tearing him apart. His chest tightened, his heart breaking into a million pieces. All he could do was watch as his dreams of being with you, of having a future together, crumbled before him.

"At least think what your son wants! I promise to keep him happy even if it means working myself to death, just give me a chance Ms. Isolde! I'll be forever loyal to-"

Isolde’s voice rang out again, cruel and final. "I WON’T GIVE YOU MY SON IN A MILLION YEARS!" she spat. "Now go home. Pack your bags. GET FUCKING LOST FROM MY PROPERTY!"

The words struck like daggers, and Orsen could only stand there, his body wracked with sobs. The pain, the injustice, the helplessness, it all became too much. You were being dragged away, your love for him still so clear, and yet, everything was falling apart.

And as he watched you being forced from the manor, Orsen’s world seemed to collapse in on itself. He could feel every part of him breaking, every dream he had of a future with you slipping through his fingers like sand.....

Please be a nightmare...please be a nightmare.

Isolde stormed back into the manor, her fury still crackling in the air. "Lucan! Get him inside his room, and I don’t want to hear a single word about that pathetic woman! Neither the sobbing! You hear me?" She didn’t wait for an answer. Without another glance at her sons, she turned on her heel, the sound of her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she made her way toward her study, her anger still seething.

Lucan stood there for a moment, staring at the door his wife had slammed shut, the weight of his own helplessness pulling at his chest. He sighed heavily, then turned to Orsen, whose body trembled with the weight of everything that had just unfolded.

"Orsen..." Lucan’s voice was softer now, but laced with concern. He approached his son, his hand resting on his trembling shoulder. "My dear... calm yourself," he murmured, trying to comfort him as best he could. But it was clear that his own frustrations and regrets were too much for him to contain. "You really thought your mama would let this be? Why did you let yourself fall for her?" His tone was more accusatory than he realized, but it was clear that his anger wasn’t directed at his son, it was just a manifestation of his own disappointment.

Rowan, who had been silently watching the exchange, finally stepped forward. His small hands reached out for his brother, and with the innocence only a child could have, he whispered through his tears, "Orsen, please don’t be sad. I... I don’t like seeing you cry."

Lucan finally helped his son to his feet, though Orsen could barely stand on his own. The weight of his heartbreak was too much to bear, and he leaned heavily on his father, the pain in his chest threatening to crush him with every breath. Rowan followed close behind, his small hands trembling as they touched Orsen’s arm, trying to support him.

"I don’t... I can’t live without her," Orsen whispered, his voice barely audible, a tremble in every word. "Please... I’ll die... I’ll kill myself..." His words hung in the air, heavy with despair. And then, in a moment of overwhelming emotion, Orsen’s world faded to black, his body collapsing in his father’s arms as everything around him went silent.

── .✦

After you left, Orsen felt as though half of his soul had been ripped away, leaving him hollow and incomplete. Lucan had tried to convey this to his wife countless times, but Isolde was deaf to his pleas. She dismissed his concerns about their son with cold indifference, refusing to acknowledge the truth of what Orsen had become, a lovelorn boy consumed by grief. He withdrew from the world entirely, locking himself away in his room. Socializing, already a challenge for him, became impossible. And so, he painted. Over and over again, he painted you.

Each canvas bore your face, your smile, your essence. Every brushstroke was a desperate attempt to capture what he had lost. The paintings multiplied, filling his room with hauntingly beautiful reminders of a love he could no longer hold.

“This is getting out of hand!” Isolde’s shrill voice echoed through the manor as she stormed into the parlor. “I swear to God, if I see one more portrait of that bastard in my house-”

“STOP!” Lucan’s voice thundered, cutting through her tirade. “For God’s sake, Isolde, just stop! Can’t you see what you’ve done? My son, our son, has lost himself because of you! If only... if only you’d handled this with an ounce of discretion, with empathy! They were young and in love for God’s sake! She was young, and she did it, she came here, to us, and asked for his hand. What was her crime? Loving him? That’s not a sin!”

“Oh, it most certainly is!” Isolde snapped, her face flushed with fury. “She did commit a sin because how dare she even think she’s at par with us? How dare she believe she’s fit to be my daughter-in-law? She’s a nobody! And you-” she pointed an accusatory finger at Lucan, her voice trembling with rage, “you need to stop wallowing in pity with him and do your job as his father. Go up there and fix your son instead of standing here arguing with me, your wife! You failed to raise him properly! I want the best for him too! Do you think I’m his enemy?”

Lucan’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides, but before he could respond, Isolde pressed on, her tone sharp and resolute. “If you won’t act, then I will. I’ll find him a suitor. A proper one. Because clearly, you’re too busy sulking to see what’s best for him. There are plenty of well-established women, daughters of my partners--women who will treat him like the prince he is! Not like some charity case meant to be dragged down by a girl who doesn’t even belong in the same world as us.”

Lucan’s eyes burned with unshed tears, his voice breaking as he whispered, “And what do you think that will do to him, Isolde? You think parading someone else in front of him will make him forget her? You’ll break what little is left of him.”

But Isolde had already turned her back, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand as she walked toward the grand staircase. “You’ll see, Lucan. One day, he’ll thank me for saving him from her.”

However, Isolde’s plans always seemed to crumble before they even began. Every suitor she brought forward found her son either too meek, too detached, or, worse yet, eerily silent. He was almost ghost-like, his quietness mistaken for muteness by many. But it wasn’t silence, it was absence. Every fiber of Orsen’s being was consumed by you. His thin frame seemed weighed down by the memories he refused to let go of.

Because every part of his being was consumed by thoughts of you, his eyes replaying the memories, his hands yearning to be held by yours, his ears straining to hear your voice, his nose craving the faint trace of your scent, and his mind entirely consumed by you. His mind, utterly devoted to you, left no space for the present. How could he be anything but a shell of himself?

The embarrassment came soon enough. The rumors spread like wildfire after one particular incident---a disaster in Isolde’s eyes. Forced to interact with a suitor in private, Orsen, in his dazed and lovesick state, spoke only of you. Your name slipped from his lips like a prayer, every word dripping with longing and devotion. The suitor, bewildered and offended, left without a word. And that was it, Isolde’s perfect plan shattered yet again.

But the world outside was less forgiving.

A boy in love?

The son of Isolde Elaris in love?

And with a mere servant, no less? Tsk, tsk. So unruly...

No wonder he looks so wretched. Betrayed by a woman beneath him, perhaps?

Heard she’s in the army now. But poor as dirt, that explains why Isolde refused.

The whispers, the snide remarks, and the pitying glances reached Isolde’s ears, stoking her fury. But Orsen? He couldn’t care less about the rumors. Let them talk. Let them mock. None of it mattered to him.

His world had shrunk to the confines of his room, where his paintbrush brought you back to life in hues of longing and heartbreak. Your laughter echoed in the silent strokes of his art. Your touch lingered in every corner of his mind. Your memory was his solace and his torment.

He needed nothing else, just the faint traces of you that lingered in his heart. For him, they were enough.

"You destroyed your life for HER?! She isn’t coming back here, and neither am I ever going to accept her, so imprint that in your mind and fix yourself! Otherwise, we will be forced to move to another province."

SLAM!

The door rattled violently as Isolde stormed off, leaving the air thick with tension. All she ever did was talk, command, dictate, and talk some more. Orsen leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a dry, rueful chuckle. Her words barely scratched at the armor of his despair anymore.

"Does your mother always think she’s the empress of everything? Or does she just save that energy for me?"

He could still picture you folding your arms, feigning indignation while your eyes sparkled with mischief. Back then, you’d leaned closer, dropping your voice conspiratorially. "No offense, but I’m half-expecting her to declare a new tax just for looking at her wrong."

That teasing jab had made him laugh so hard he’d forgotten, for a moment, the weight of his world. He could still remember how your fingers used to drift into his hair without a thought, toying with the soft strands as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It always made his cheeks flush, though he never stopped you—he loved it, cherished every touch, every moment your attention lingered on him.

Now, his hands gripped the scissors, the metal glinting faintly under the dim light. His movements were sharp, almost desperate, as he cut through the alluring gold locks, yet there was an underlying tenderness to it, hesitant, like he was severing a connection to you. Gently, because you loved his hair. Aggressively, because he didn’t want anyone else to see it anymore. No suitors, no flattering remarks from his parents. No one deserved to notice him the way you had.

Even now, the memory of you was so vivid it felt like you were in the room with him. Almost. But not enough to fill the void you’d left behind. Nothing ever could.

Meanwhile, you, after being kicked out and shamed by Lady Elaris—were drowning in an unbearable mix of shame and guilt, especially in front of your parents, who were now homeless because of you and your foolish fantasy of being with her son. What were you thinking? Had you been so blind in your naive, reckless love that you lost sight of reality? Your parents should have been your first priority. Instead, you had risked their stability and comfort over a foolish dream.

Your heart broke the day your father had to sell his cherished marriage jewelry, pieces he had once treasured, because your single month’s salary, combined with your mother’s meager savings, wasn’t enough to afford even a modest one-room apartment. It was a moment that crushed you, made you see the depth of your mistakes, and yet, it also became the turning point.

At that moment, you made a promise. You vowed to repay them tenfold, no, a thousandfold, everything they had sacrificed because of you. That vow became your life’s focus, your unrelenting drive. There was no more room for silly infatuations, no place for childish fantasies. Only purpose.

1931

Over the years, countless letters were written by Orsen to you. Rowan, ever loyal, carried each one to the post office, just as he had done when they were boys. But you never wrote back. Not once. Each unanswered letter chipped away at Orsen's hope, leaving him to wrestle with the silence. In his heart, he could only fathom two reasons for your absence: either you had truly forgotten him, abandoned him, played with his heart, or you had simply given up on the dream.

Perhaps you kept the love a secret but he didn't. He kept it as an oath.

He thought it would be a love for the ages. But now, as the days turned into years, he realized he was the only one writing on…pages.

But why? No. No, you shouldn’t have. You promised to fight for him, didn’t you? You were the woman, you were supposed to fight for your love. He had fought for you, hadn’t he? So why didn’t you?

There were moments when resentment clawed at his heart, moments when he hated you for your silence. But his love always overcame it. A quiet voice within reminded him of the guilt and heartbreak he had seen in your eyes that last time, the moment you stood at the threshold of his home. No, he would tell himself, you didn’t betray me, did you?

And yet, the doubt lingered, cold and cruel. Was he really so...forgettable to you?

"BROTHER ORSEN! Orsen!" Rowan's voice trembled as he rushed inside his brother’s room, panic rising in his chest as he saw Orsen hunched over, lost in the sea of his own thoughts. He approached him gently, reaching out to steady him, but it was as if Orsen was made of glass, fragile and on the edge of shattering.

"I-... I did you hear the news...?" Rowan's voice quivered, unsure if he truly wanted to be the one to break this.

A slow, hesitant shake of Orsen's head was all Rowan received—what he had expected, but still, it hurt more than words could express.

"T-the... war is upon us... and..." Rowan’s voice faltered, breaking on the edge of that awful, cold truth. He didn’t need to say more. Orsen’s face went blank, his body slumping further, as if the weight of the world had just pressed him into the bed.

"War..." Orsen’s voice was barely a whisper. It wasn’t the war that had brought him to this point. It wasn’t the world outside that was destroying him. It was the war within, against the memories, the love, the haunting silence.

"Y-yes, brother. War, soldiers are being deployed to the western border... but don’t you worry, she’ll return, she’ll be fine-"

"But she won’t return to me..." Orsen’s words were choked, and Rowan felt his heart fracture as his brother's emerald eyes filled with unshed tears.

"No matter how many wars go by, Rowan..." Orsen’s voice quivered, his body shaking with the intensity of his pain, the weight of years of silence and waiting pressing down on him. "She won’t fight the war... for us. The one war that I was ready to die for."

Rowan’s heart ached, and he reached for Orsen immediately, his hand coming to rest gently over his brother’s lips as if to shield him from speaking the words that were tearing him apart. "Why do you always speak ill of yourself? It hurts me, Orsen. As much as I... support you and love you you need to stop destroying yourself over her."

Orsen’s hands trembled, and his voice broke as he whispered, almost desperately, "Rowan, my heart doesn’t stop! There’s always this voice... this voice that tells me she still feels something for me, that I still live in her heart, the same way mine beats for her. But it’s all I have left. The hope. The hope that she’ll come back... and maybe... maybe it will be enough."

Rowan's throat tightened, but he couldn’t speak, not with the agony in his brother’s voice. His own heart broke for him, but he couldn’t let Orsen sink deeper into the suffocating grief.

"Even if she returns..." Rowan’s voice faltered as he feared what the consequences would be. "Mother will-"

But Orsen cut him off, his voice low, almost too quiet to hear, "It won’t matter, Rowan. I’ve already lost her...I've lost...everything."

One year later...

After years of bloodshed and sacrifice, the town whispers of your return. At 25, you walk back into the place you once called home, no longer the wide-eyed girl who had left at 17, but a woman hardened by the brutal realities of war. Your uniform, now adorned with a sergeant's insignia, tells the story of your rise through the ranks, your resolve steeled by every battle fought and every friend lost. The air feels different, heavier, almost suffocating as you step through the town’s familiar streets, but your heart remains unyielding, barricaded from the past. Orsen’s letters are still tucked away, unopened, each one a reminder of a love you’ve forced yourself to forget. You’ve accepted it. You were never meant to be, and no amount of hope could change that now. The weight of those letters no longer tugs at you, not when you’ve fought and survived so much more.

Dear Orsen,

I know you’ve been waiting. I know you’ve sent me countless letters, filled with hope that I would somehow return to you, to the life we once dreamed of. But Orsen, I can’t. I’ve read every word you wrote, and yet I find myself unable to respond in the way you so desperately long for.

I wish things had been different. I wish I could turn back the clock and be the girl who ran away with you in her heart, the girl who believed love could conquer everything. But that girl no longer exists.

You were my first love, Orsen, and you will always hold a piece of my heart. But that piece is buried deep now, and I cannot let it resurface. You deserve more than the shadows of someone who cannot return your love. You deserve someone who can give you all the things I cannot.

Please, move on. I’ve had to. And though it breaks me to say this, I need you to as well. There are things we can’t undo, and I’ve learned that some battles are meant to be lost.

I wish you nothing but happiness, Orsen. Please find it, for both of us.

Yours,

(Y/N)

Orsen read the letter over and over again, the words blurring as his tears fell onto the paper. He could feel the weight of her words, the finality in them, but it didn’t matter. She was back. She had sent a response. That was all that mattered. He could still feel the flicker of hope inside him, despite the pain.

"See, Rowan?" Orsen's voice trembled, filled with a raw, desperate conviction. "She does care... she did come back! And she sent a response! After all these years, after everything..." His hands shook as he held the letter, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if the letter were some miraculous token of proof that his love had not been in vain.

Rowan stood still, watching his brother, his heart aching with the quiet sorrow that had always lived within Orsen. He had been there for all of it, the hopeless days, the constant painting, the letters, the belief that (Y/N) would return. But now, even with the letter in hand, he knew nothing would ever truly change for Orsen. The boy who loved her so deeply, so painfully, would never let go.

"Orsen-"

"I told you, Rowan!" Orsen interrupted, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that sent a chill down Rowan’s spine. He didn't even hear his brother’s voice, his focus solely on the canvas beneath him. He dashed to his desk, where he'd been working for hours, and pulled out the latest painting of her, his masterpiece.

He held the canvas in his arms like it was the most precious thing in the world. His hands, once trembling with uncertainty, now steadied as he placed a soft kiss onto the painting of her.

"I knew you would," he whispered into the stillness of the room, the words soft, almost a prayer. "I knew you would, (Y/N)... I knew you’d come back to me."

His lips brushed the painted figure as though it were real, as though he were holding her in his arms once more. He collapsed beside it, curling up against the canvas as though it were her embrace. The painting of (Y/N) became his only solace, his only love.

And though the letter told him to move on, to accept the impossible, Orsen couldn't. He wouldn't.

He would live in his world of painted memories, of moments stolen from time. If that was all he could have, then that was enough. His heart belonged to her, now and always.

Rowan sighed, a heavy, sorrowful breath, and sat beside his brother, not knowing how to save him from the pain that would never fade.

── .✦

The years had been kinder to you in some ways. You had finally earned the respect you'd dreamed of, built a stable life, and found a steady income. Your parents, once worried, once ashamed, were proud now. They had a bungalow, a car, and all the comforts that came with your hard work. Adrian was a good man, his steady smile and warm presence had become a source of quiet comfort. Your parents approved of him, and in public, he fit the role of what they had always envisioned for you.

You had met Adrian at one of the official functions after the war, an event meant to honor veterans and those who had served. He had approached you politely, a charming young man from a good family, well-educated, and well-spoken. It was easy to fall into a comfortable conversation with him. He was kind, and considerate, and seemed genuinely interested in your experiences, nothing too probing, nothing too personal, and a touch of flirty which you found attracted to. The connection had been easy, and effortless. Over time, he had become more of a presence in your life, someone to lean on, someone to rely on when the weight of the world felt too heavy.

But in the quiet moments, when you caught him smiling or when his gentle presence filled the room, you couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if Orsen were here instead of him.

Had he listened to you? Had he chosen a different path? You had told him to move on, to find happiness elsewhere. But as you thought of him, still alone, still stubbornly clinging to something that had long since slipped away, you felt an overwhelming ache. You wondered if he was doing well if he had found peace, or if he was still trapped in the same loop of memories, the same quiet obsession that you had once shared.

The whispers that reached your ears spoke of his isolation. They called him a "spinster" in the most cruel terms, among their circle blaming him for wasting his life over a dream, for not letting go, and for refusing to welcome suitors. The town had forgotten the love he had once held for you, reduced it to mockery and judgment. And it stung more than you cared to admit. It wasn’t just the cruel words, they blamed him, not you. But you still felt the guilt gnaw at you. If only you could have done something differently. If only you hadn’t pushed him away if only you had stayed.

You wished things could have been different, so different. Sometimes, you would drive by the road that led to the Elaris estate, the place where it had all started, where it had all fallen apart. You grimaced each time, your mind filled with the memories of Isolde’s cold arrogance, her cruel insults hurled at your mother, the disdain that had torn everything apart. You would never forget the way she looked down on your family. Never forget the way her words had stung.

And yet, despite it all, the quiet moments still haunted you. Adrian was everything you had ever been told to want. He was good, stable, and kind. But whenever you saw that smile, whenever you felt his hand on yours, the image of Orsen would slip into your mind, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered, what if?

"Ready for the date, love?" you asked, a playful smile on your lips as you slid into the driver's seat of your sleek Packard coupe. Adrian hopped in beside you, his excitement palpable as he fastened his seatbelt. The polished chrome gleamed under the fading sunlight, reflecting your success.

"Ready as ever," Adrian grinned, leaning in for a quick peck before you revved the engine.

As you pulled out onto the road, Adrian’s eyes sparkled with energy. "Oh my God, baby! Look! An exhibition! We should totally go there!"

"But what about our reservation?"

"We can eat somewhere else," he said, his voice bubbling with excitement. "I'm in the mood to go there now! And it’s going to be fun!"

"As you say, doll," you laughed, making a sharp turn, and Adrian’s hand instinctively gripped your arm as the car glided smoothly along the streets.

The gallery was quiet when you both entered, the sound of hushed conversations echoing in the background. But as soon as you stepped through the door, you both stopped in your tracks.

Every single wall was covered in paintings. And what made your heart skip a beat, what made the air feel heavy, was that every single painting was of you. Each canvas captured a moment, an expression, an angle of you. The portraits were hauntingly familiar, your face, your eyes, your presence, all staring back at you in ways that felt too intimate, too familiar.

Adrian stood beside you, his mouth agape as his eyes darted between the paintings. "What the hell is this?" His voice trembled with confusion, but his gaze never left the artwork.

You didn’t respond, your heart pounding in your chest. The words caught in your throat as the reality of the situation sank in. How had this happened? Why had someone done this?

You felt the walls closing in, the weight of every portrait suffocating you. The paintings weren’t just of you, they were a testament to someone who had been watching, remembering, and never letting go. They were not just of your face, but in parts too but all those parts...made a story , the story you were all too familiar with.

The garden...

The swing...of you pushing a boy...you knew too well.

your eyes...

your lips nuzzling in golden hair...

you working in the garden but the painter drew it as they...were in some balcony...

Adrian looked at you, searching your face for an explanation. "Do you know who did this?"

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper.

"Is this… is this really me?" you whispered, feeling a tremor in your voice.

Adrian stood beside you, studying the painting. He gave you a gentle nudge. “Of course, it’s you. Look at that, love. It’s beautiful. Who could capture you like that? It's like they’ve seen the real you.”

Your mind was however not registering his words as you turned your eyes to the next painting. Another portrait of you. And another.

The entire gallery was filled with paintings of you. Each one more personal than the last.

Your breath hitched. The familiar, almost painful pull of longing twisted in your chest. The artist, who could it be? Why was this happening? You didn't want to think it, but you knew deep down. You knew this was Orsen’s doing.

Adrian sensed your shift in mood, his brow furrowing in concern. “What’s going on? This... this doesn’t seem like you to be so quiet.”

You turned to him, the weight of the paintings and your tangled emotions making your heart ache. "It’s… it’s him. Orsen."

Adrian’s face softened in understanding, his eyes scanning the gallery around you. "I thought you'd told me you had moved on from him. That you had buried that part of your life."

“I did,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I thought I had. But I didn’t expect this… to see him like this. To see him still... holding onto me."

Adrian studied you, his expression a mixture of concern and something softer, more understanding. He took your hand, gently guiding you towards the painting of you in the center of the room. “(Y/N), listen to me. This… this is what he’s been doing all this time. This is his heart, laid out on canvas. But you, you, need to follow yours now.”

Your heart raced as you turned to look at him. “I don’t know if I can,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “His mother… she ruined everything. I ruined everything.”

Adrian’s hand squeezed yours gently, and he looked you in the eyes, the sincerity in his expression unwavering. “But you’re not her, (Y/N). Don’t let her shadow stand in the way of what’s real. You feel it, don’t you? You feel that pull. The ache in your heart. You’ve never really let him go. He’s still there, inside you. Maybe it’s time to go to him. Maybe it’s time to follow your heart, before it’s too late. Be the woman you should be. For him."

You swallowed, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. Adrian’s eyes softened as he added, "Go to him, (Y/N). You owe it to yourself."

For a moment, you stood there, torn between the past and the future. But deep down, you knew what you had to do. Adrian was right. You had buried the love you shared with Orsen for too long, hidden behind walls of fear and shame. You couldn’t pretend anymore. The paintings were his way of reaching out to you, of showing you that he never stopped loving you, even when you were too proud or too afraid to admit it to yourself.

With a shaky breath, you turned to Adrian and smiled softly. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.”

He smiled back, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “No need for that, love. Just be happy.”

After a comforting and final farewell with Adrian and dropping him you drove towards the Elaris estate. Your heart thudded in your chest, each beat louder than the last. You knew what was waiting for you. You knew that, despite all the years of pain and regret, Orsen was still out there, still holding onto you, waiting for you.

You didn’t know how you would face him, but you knew one thing for sure, you had to try.

When you arrived at the grand estate, it felt like stepping into the past. The familiar sight of the towering gates, the ivy-covered walls, all of it reminded you of everything you had left behind. Your hands trembled on the steering wheel, but you didn’t hesitate. You got out of the car and walked up to the grand doors, your heart heavy with the fear of what you might find.

Orsen’s mother answered the door, her face cold and dismissive as ever. “You’ve come back for more, have you? He’s upstairs, but don’t think this will end well.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. She could fuck herself.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you arrived at his door. You hesitated for just a moment before knocking.

"Orsen?" you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope. “Orsen, it’s me.”

For a long moment, there was silence. But then, the door creaked open, and there he stood, your Orsen. His eyes widened in shock as he saw you, standing there on his doorstep after all these years.

“You came,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I came, Orsen....I did..."

The years between you didn’t matter anymore. The world outside could’ve been falling apart, but in that moment, all that mattered was him. And you. Together, at last.

Orsen’s voice trembled as he spoke those words, his hands shaking as he reached for you, his face painted with disbelief. "I never stopped loving you. I never gave up on us."

You stood frozen for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest, and then, without another thought, you stepped forward. The distance that had kept you apart for so long seemed to vanish as he collapsed into your arms.

Orsen's breath hitched as you wrapped your arms tightly around you, You could feel his tears against your neck, the way his body trembled as he let out a sob, quiet at first, but then growing louder, more desperate.

"I thought you were lost to me forever," he whispered between gasps, his voice cracking with emotion. "I tho-ught--I thought you would never come back."

You ran your fingers through his hair, pressing your cheek against the top of his head as he cried. His sobs were broken, painful, as if years of longing and heartache were finally being released. It hurt to see him like this, but it also made you realize just how much you had missed him, how deeply he had always felt for you.

"I’m here," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible, but the words felt like a promise. "I’m here, Orsen. I never wanted to leave you. I was a coward--a fucking coward...a bastard. That's what I am."

Orsen pulled back just slightly to look at you, his tear-streaked face full of vulnerability. He reached up to touch your face, your jawline, his fingertips brushing gently over your cheeks as though he couldn't quite believe you were really there.

"You... you never stopped loving me?" His voice was raw, a mix of hope and doubt.

"I never did, never" you said, your own tears starting to slip free. "I just... I was afraid. Of everything."

He shook his head, a soft smile breaking through the tears, though it was a broken one. "Yo-u are not a coward....you are my everything...I-I feel as if I can breathe ag-ain (Y/N)...I love you..."

"Oh Orsen..." You pulled him to your arms again as you both now sat on the carpeted floor. " I love you too. Always. I am so sorry.."

You hugged him tighter, your body pressed against his as he continued to sob in your arms, his tears soaking into your clothes, but you didn’t care. You held him, the warmth of his embrace grounding you, making you realize that all the pain, all the time spent apart, didn’t matter anymore. You were here now, together.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself cry, the tears falling freely as the weight of everything you had been carrying finally lifted. His arms were around you, and he was holding you so tightly, as though he would never let go again.

And in that moment, it felt like the world had stopped turning. All that mattered was the two of you, your past, your fears, your love, all of it was there, unfolding in his arms. Orsen had always been your home, and now, finally, you were both back where you belonged.

It didn’t matter that the world outside remained uncertain, that Isolde still cast her shadow over Orsen’s name, or that the whispers of the past lingered like unwanted ghosts. When you finally stood together with Orsen, hand in hand, the rest of the world fell away. You had spent too long apart, too long in the agony of wondering “what if,” but now, there were no more questions. No more waiting.

As Orsen stood beside you, the man who had loved you for all these years, he seemed almost too perfect to be real. His emerald eyes, the same ones that had once searched for you in the distance, now held you in a steady, comforting gaze.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered to you as you exchanged vows, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I was never going to feel your arms around me again, never hear you say my name.”

“You never lost me, Orsen,” you responded, your voice steady, but your heart thundering in your chest. "I was always here..."

And then, as if nothing else mattered, you sealed your promises to each other with a kiss that was as soft as the years you had spent apart, as fierce as the love you now shared.

The years of separation melted away in that one, perfect moment, and for the first time in a long while, the weight of your past was lighter. You had come back to each other, and that was all that truly mattered.

After the wedding, life settled into a quiet rhythm. You and Orsen moved into the bungalow. It wasn’t grand compared to where he came from, but it was nonetheless a heaven for him. Every room held a piece of you both, and slowly, you began to build a new life.

Orsen often found himself in the garden, his hands in the dirt, tending to the flowers that now bloomed as brightly as his heart. You would watch him from the kitchen window, leaning against the frame, a smile tugging at your lips as you admired the way he made everything seem so effortless. The way he painted in the garden. His laugh, when he caught sight of you watching, was soft and full of warmth.

At night, you would share simple dinners, just the two of you, with candles flickering in the dim light. Orsen would tell you stories of his of the times when he had been filled with hope and dreams, waiting for you to come back to him. You shared your own tales, of the war, of the triumphs and the losses, the people you met, and the battles you fought. And yes of course, talking about the memories of your childhood...the most cherished ones.

But the best moments, the ones you cherished the most, were the quiet ones. The evenings when Orsen would in your lap, his arm around your neck as he clung to you, as you both listened to the wind rustling through the trees, and the sound of crickets filling the air.

You never spoke of Isolde much. She remained a distant, bitter part of Orsen’s past. And while she still tried to cause trouble, trying to remind Orsen of what he “could have had,” you both knew that she no longer had a place in your life. She had lost him, and that was all that mattered. You had heard how she had suffered losses in her business and for Orsen and you, it seems like she was facing the consequences of her ego and stubbornness.

Sometimes, you would take walks through the town, just the two of you, your fingers intertwined, the sun setting in the distance. The people who had once whispered about your union now smiled, and you would catch the glint of admiration in their eyes. You had proven that love, even in the face of all odds, could survive.

One evening, as you both sat on the porch, the stars beginning to twinkle above, Orsen turned to you, his eyes soft and filled with a quiet happiness.

“Do you ever think about what could’ve been?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

You smiled and shook your head. “No. I think about now. I think about you and me. This. That’s enough for me.”

And Orsen, ever the poet, kissed you gently, his lips lingering on yours in a quiet promise that this love, this life, was all that mattered now.

The past was gone. The future was still unwritten, but you were both finally, truly together, and that was more than you had ever dared to dream.

In the warmth of each other’s arms, you knew, finally, that no matter what the world might throw your way, you had everything you needed. You had each other.

You did it. You fought for him...no, you both did, in fact you felt ashamed sometimes that it was Orsen who really did. He remained true to his word, his love.

Now none of the bitter past mattered. What mattered was that you two were now bound.

And that was enough.

── .✦

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm golden glow over the bungalow, and the soft hum of evening filled the air. The days had stretched into years, and now, the soft patter of little feet echoed through the house.

The twins, Isla and Blair, were running around the garden, laughing as they chased each other between the rows of flowers that Orsen had lovingly tended. Isla’s bright curls bounced with each step, her fiery energy matching her mother’s, while Blair, a little more reserved, hid behind a bush before springing out with a playful shout. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them, so full of life, so full of joy.

Orsen stood beside you, a proud smile on his face as he adjusted the collar of your shirt, though he couldn’t keep his eyes off the children for long.

"Think they'll ever slow down?" he asked, his voice warm, though laced with a hint of exhaustion.

You chuckled softly, resting your head on his shoulder. “Not as long as they have that energy. They're just like you at their age, honey."

"I was never that much trouble," Orsen said, feigning innocence, though his smile betrayed him.

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You want me to remind you about the treehouse incident?”

He laughed leaning back on your chest, the sound rich and full. "Alright, alright, maybe I was a bit much. But they’ve got your fire in them, that’s for sure. I see it every day. It’s like they’re part of both of us."

"You can say that again. Isla's already giving Rowan a run for his money with her mischief."

You then nuzzled the side of his soft and milky neck, feeling the warmth and peppered light kisses as he giggled. "And definitely got your streak of being a brat."

"Oh, shut up you..." His voice softened, looking up at you with a dreamy gaze. He cupped your jaw gently, his thumb brushing the line of your cheek as his eyes traced the lines of your face. "You know...this was my dream, and I would sacrifice everything a million times for this... for you."

You shook your head, smiling tenderly as you brought his soft hand to your lips. "You sacrificed enough. It's my time to do that." You kissed his forehead, feeling the heat of his skin and the quiet ache of love that swelled in your chest. He swore he melted right then and there, his heart swelling with emotion.

"I WANNA KISSHY TOO!" Isla’s voice broke the moment as she wobbled over, her little face scrunched with exaggerated impatience. You chuckled, easily scooping up your three-year-old daughter, her giggles filling the air as she flung her arms around your neck.

"Do you now?" You teased, smiling at her. "Then kisshies you get. And you too, little mister." With one swift motion, you scooped up Blair in your other arm, planting kisses all over both their little faces. Their giggles filled the space around you, a sweet symphony of innocence and love.

Orsen laughed softly, his eyes twinkling as he watched the scene unfold before him. The sight of you, his family, so full of life and laughter, was a dream he had never dared to speak aloud, one he was living every single day. He sighed in contentment, his heart swelling at the sight. It was everything he had hoped for and more.

All his art had come to life, and it was more beautiful than he could ever have imagined. Every brushstroke, every moment of uncertainty, had led to this, a home filled with love, with laughter, with a family bound by unspoken understanding, and, most importantly, by the love that had always been there.

© ak319. All rights reserved.

[dreamwavesexploringreality]

A life worth living:

Niragi x reader

Requested: Before Borderlands, Y/N and Niragi were close, but during the King of Spades' attack, the reader is gravely injured.

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"If only everything had stayed as it was. If we were still at The Beach, or back home. Yes. I wish we were home. Or at school. Maybe we could still be at school. That's where everything began to unravel, wasn’t it? When those boys first harassed him in that alley behind the school. When they attacked him with baseball bats for the first time. Or maybe it was when they took his textbooks and rolled them through the mud. I couldn't even remember... If only... if only everything had stayed the same..."

Y/N felt the searing pain in her abdomen long before she heard the gunshot. By then, the blood was already flowing freely from the wound, threatening to end her life. She had collapsed to the ground when her legs gave way, scraping her knees against the rough asphalt. She hadn’t even noticed it, and now, lying there on the cold ground, her hands pressed desperately against her abdomen, all she could think of was him.

Niragi had been her confidant, her friend, her refuge. He had been everything to her, and in her selfishness, she liked to believe she had been everything to him, too.

She gazed up at the blue sky, not a cloud in sight. She squinted against the blinding sunlight, its heat warming her skin, though perhaps it was the blood that was bathing her body in warmth.

Niragi had been with her in her darkest moments, and she had been with him in his. By fate, or perhaps coincidence, they had found a shoulder to lean on during the bleakest chapters of their lives. And then, when life finally began to smile on them again, they were hesitant to sever that bond. They had stayed in touch during the early months of their university years. Maybe it was the distance, or their conflicting schedules, but inevitably, their connection had cooled. Though... upon reflection, perhaps it was also because of Chishiya. But that was much later, wasn’t it?

Y/N brought one bloodstained hand to her forehead, attempting to rearrange the fragments of her memories. Thick red liquid trailed down her cheek.

Yes, Chishiya came later, after arriving to Borderlands.

The day the people of Tokyo vanished, the day she played the deadliest game of hide-and-seek of her life, was the day she met him. That man with white hair and a hood, more intelligent than the rest, with an aura of mystery that stirred something deep within her. Oh! It was also the day she ran into Niragi again. She remembered it as it was yesterday, though weeks had passed. Months? Perhaps even years? Yet, it was all so vivid, so clear. He was so... different.

He was no longer the Niragi she had left behind years ago in high school. This one wore piercings and had a sharp tongue. Of course, he melted when he saw her.

Y/N stifled a small laugh at the memory, which was quickly drowned by a cough and a sharp, stabbing pain in her stomach.

Niragi had stared at her as if seeing a ghost. She recalled how he grabbed her wrist, nearly dragging her without hesitation to his room, and there… there, he embraced her. A hug she had waited years for, one reserved only for someone very special.

She closed her eyes. She could still feel that embrace, still remember the sensation, his scent... she could almost feel it again now.

"Y/N! Y/N! No, no, no—don’t fall asleep! Don’t close your eyes!"

She could even hear his voice.

"Y/N, damn it! Look at me! Look at me!"

It was so cruel, so perversely cruel of fate, that in what she was certain was her deathbed, her thoughts uncontrollably turned to him. To his voice, his scent, his very essence.

A smile tugged at her lips, and suddenly, the pain in her abdomen seemed almost insignificant. Was this what it felt like to die? If Niragi were here, he’d call her stupid. He would say it in that irritable, frustrated tone of his, the same one he used when explaining math homework in high school and she couldn’t understand a thing. But wait, why would he call her stupid? She didn’t want to die, not willingly… So why had she jumped in front of that bullet? No. She hadn’t jumped. She had run. She had run and pushed someone else aside. She… she had thrown herself in the path of the bullet. In the path of the bullet… meant for whom?

"Y/N, I swear, if you die now, I will never forgive you. Do you hear me? Never!"

Niragi.

It was almost as if some otherworldly force compelled her to open her eyes, and there, eclipsing the sun, was a face, contorted in anguish, backlit by its harsh light.

“That’s it, Y/N. Open your eyes. Open them! I’m here, I’m with you… You’re so stupid, do you know that? What the hell were you doing jumping in front of that bullet? It was meant for me! You are so damn stupid!"

Y/N stretched out one trembling hand, trying to touch the face that hovered over her. Her arm felt weak, as though it could hardly bear the effort, but she needed to touch him, to feel him, to be sure that it was truly him and not her imagination playing tricks.

"N-Niragi," she heard herself whisper, her voice low and cracked, rougher than she remembered.

"Shh, shh, don’t talk. Just stay calm. I’m here," he said, taking her hand and guiding it back to her abdomen, pressing down to try to staunch the bleeding. Y/N writhed in pain as another wave surged through her body.

"Where’s your idiot boyfriend when you need him, huh? Isn’t he a doctor? I told you he wasn’t good for you, that I didn’t like him, but you just had to go after him anyway, didn’t you? When do you ever listen to me, huh? Not even when we were kids, and I swore up and down that six times nine was fifty-four! That’s why you failed math!" He kept ranting, but Y/N had stopped listening.

Her eyes remained fixed on him, on the figure leaning over her. She could barely make out his features, swallowed by the backlight that surrounded him like a halo. Her vision was growing blurry, and as her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and a high-pitched ringing filled her ears, another voice entered the mix.

"Were you looking for me?"

© 2024 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

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I hope you enjoy it, and to the person who requested it, I really hope it’s exactly what you were hoping for... or even better!✨