#am i the only person who was desperate for an answer

[maudie-duan]

Summary: You were an almost lover, now a hushed whisper in the dark when his Ex moves back to town. Nothing is worse than a love than a love triangle you weren't expecting--old flames, new love, and lingering feelings, but who's the real winner when everyone gets hurt?

Warnings: 18+All Angst, Mentions: Cheating. Sexual Situations.

Word Count: 4.3k

Harry's POV

I was the only one in love.

I know that now.

Not to say that Leah didn’t love me, but love should never be possessive.

And by the end, I was her possession. 

Leah had me under her thumb, suffocating me, slowly sucking the love from what we had. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t convince her I was in love. It was never enough. I thought saying it more would fix it, and maybe for a little while, it did, but then she got bored, and she made new friends. She started building this whole other life without me, and I respected that. I understood, but the more I understood, the more she pressed into me harder.

Fight after fight.

The two of us tearing into each other, every word a vicious act to match each other stride for stride, waiting for each hurtful blow to land. Did it hurt? Will it hurt later?

We didn’t care.

Was it love that excused every wrongful transgression, or was it fear? By the end, love for me became a desperate act, on my fucking knees begging as Leah slipped away and me pretending that with every apology, I forgave—forgiving until my heart bled with it, icy with the final blow.

The cheating.

Now, she’s back, my name falling off her lips as if there could be no one else like there hasn’t been anyone else, and that shadow of resentment that keeps following me around sweeps up to hang over me like a black mass I can’t rip my eyes from, yet I said I could forgive, but I can’t seem to forget—a year wasn’t enough, a year didn’t scratch the surface, mend the ache that still lingers with every fight, the pain looming at the surface.

And what is it that Leah wants because I still feel her trying to press me under her thumb? 

She wanted to come back; she wanted forgiveness I gave it. She wanted a second chance; we’re doing it. How many times am I going to let her build up the idea that we’re meant to be when, deep down, every word that she fills my head with is forced, made up to have me right where she wants me so she can leave me here, dangling by a thread, steal my focus so I can never stand my own ground, and for what? Just to say she had me?

And maybe this time, she’s the only one in love because I don’t think this is love anymore. I keep searching for the things that will lead me back to the love I felt before. Everything that should remind me of Leah reminds me of the one person who doesn’t deserve to be left in the dark, and that’s you.

That’s what I’m doing.

The other day, I asked you what you wanted. What I should have asked was where you saw this going. At that moment, I was terrified. The thought of losing you had never crossed my mind, but I saw that look on your face, and the sadness I never thought I was capable of bringing filled your eyes, gutting me before I could even open my mouth. 

A fool.

And now I wish there were things you said to me, so many things, like telling me I was a coward for thinking you didn’t deserve answers when you did. Tell me I was a fool for thinking I could have both, that I could fall back on you when I wanted to escape a past that was coming back to haunt me. I’m sorry that I left you in the dark. I’m sorry if you ever felt you weren’t worthy of an apology.

Maybe one day you’ll let me come back and say the things I should have said to you—It’s always sorry—it’s always that vision of you on your knees, your hands covering your face, that embezzles my thoughts. That stupid line, ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ I thought it was genuine like it could ease your suffering. My final line was the knife’s edge, ‘Hopefully, it won’t be weird seeing me around,’ like it wasn’t already weird.

I made it weird; I made it hurt.

I hope you know these are the things I think about before I fall asleep.

Did you cut the tether yet because sometimes I still feel you pulling?

Is it ruined before it even had a chance to begin? If I came groveling back even more broken, would you take me back because I miss you, I miss your bed, I miss the way you smelled on my skin—I miss the balance. When I saw you cry that day, I hated myself and who I was becoming to you. I’m sorry I didn’t handle it well—without you here, I don’t know what to do with myself; you were the one who filled my days. 

I hope you know this scares me to death. 

I was watching what you did the night you saw me with my arm around Leah’s waist; I looked you dead in the eyes and moved my hand away. I hoped it made you happy, gave you a glimpse of my headspace, that all my thoughts were of you, and that I cared what you thought. I know I’ve crossed so many lines already I wish you could tell me which path I needed to take, the one that leads back to you, to us, because I can’t remember the last time I felt that happy.

The love that Leah brought back was bare. I bet you already knew the game she was playing. You’re clever. Did you figure out the ending before we did? How did you handle it with such grace and give me space before I even knew I needed it? I keep thinking back to the last time I knocked on your door. I know the other times were drunk and pathetic, but that time, I came to you with intention. I wanted to feel something real, a connection I didn’t have to force, feel the connection I made with you because that was real. 

Easy.

We barely spoke “us” into existence, and then it was there. 

All you were asking for was clarity, and I lashed out, dredging up old patterns, the learned behavior that killed my spirit over time, leaving my past on your doorstep. I called you crazy. Well, I was crazy for even putting you through an ounce of this bullshit, me living my life all wrong, letting Leah pull me along, her stupid mind games roping you in the middle of it all. 

It got complicated.

Then I lied. 

You said it was yes or no, and I told you it wasn’t that simple. 

Would it change your mind if I said you were right?

I think I’m in love with you.

I’m in love with someone else, was all I could think, staring into Leah’s pleading eyes. I had so little to say to her, yet my mind was filled with all the words I knew she wanted me to say. Leah on her knees, her tears spilling over, and I felt nothing, and all I had was time now, so much time, and when she crawled into my lap, I let her, and when she said “One last time,” it’s the first time in a long time that I believed her. 

And then all I can think is, ‘I’m sorry.’

I’m sorry that our ending had to be at the expense of first love’s antics, the childish growing pains that maybe we had to endure to move on. They say love hurts, but I never knew it could feel like this. If I tried to explain my heart, would you forgive me? Because I think I’ve figured out my downfall, my weakness. I have a tendency to live in my head, a daydreamer, spinning realities I think will come true—that was me with Leah in thinking that our love could last forever, and that was me with us thinking that we could stay in the grey, that it could save us from any kind of hurt. 

I see it now.

And now the space between us is growing further and further.

You saw me in the library the other day, and when we met eyes, you raised your brows, a slight glimmer of excitement, and I watched it slip away in seconds, your shoulders slumping. You moved your eyes to the empty seat next to you—a song and dance we would grow used to—then you stood to gather your things. It hurt, but I deserved it. I promise I wasn’t going to be heartless, sit next to you like nothing happened. I told Sam about Leah and how we called it quits for good. Did you hear? 

Your absence is growing louder than all the parties I never see you at. Is it because of me? If I asked you, would you tell me? I would stay home. You can have all our old marching grounds, all the places I know you enjoy more, the friends I know that like you more, the friends that probably only tolerated me because of you. You made me better; you gave me depth in a world I was falling flat in. I said I miss your bed, I miss the way you smelled on my skin, but what I miss most is our friendship, the ebb, and flow of your companionship; while yes, the other stuff was amazing, I could do without it if it meant I could keep my friend.

We were friends, right?

Somehow in the easy give and take, you became my best friend.

Will I see you again? I can be patient, but do you think you’ll give me a chance? I promise I could be so good to you. Are you giving me space? Or is it truly ruined? Even if you told me there was no chance, the words would hold a cruel kindness I’m willing to endure, and the painstaking fact of it all is this is probably how you’ve felt for months now. It’s been two months since Leah; it probably feels like a lifetime to you.

And just when I thought all hope was lost, you walked through Sam’s door. I thought my heart would stop, your presence taking me completely. You gave me a taste of my own medicine, barely glancing my way all night, keeping yourself preoccupied. I spent that night keeping tabs on you, spotting you anytime you moved. Could you feel it? Could you feel me? Because I swear, you were the only one in that room for me. Before you left, you came and stood by the beer pong table, watching the game Sam and I were wrapped up in. I looked at you just as I tossed the ball. My gaze trained on you, and you held it, and just as cheers erupted, me hitting my mark and making a cup, a smile ghosted over your lips, and you turned away, heading for the door. 

I could feel the tether still there, and you pulled.

The days I miss you most are the days my head is filled with the most questions, the times when no one gets my jokes when I’m an asshole, and my bold sense of humor is too much for the ears they land on. Mostly girls, the ones trying to win my attention; they’re not even a second thought, I promise. Are you bored? Are there things you miss about me?

If we ever talk about anything, can we talk about that day everyone met up for pizza, and I didn’t know that you would be there? My fucking professor made me late, and I rushed to get there in time, and the first thing I saw was you and the empty chair next to you. I hope you know that I wouldn’t have been offended if you wanted to trade seats when Sam offered. Tell me I’m foolish to believe you wanted me there, right next to you—lie to me—but please don’t ever tell me it was because you didn’t want to cause a scene.

Because they all know. Everyone knows I fumbled it with you, but I would rather hear it from your mouth. 

God, I was lucky. So lucky to have you. 

You were the only girl that wasn’t throwing yourself at me. You were a breath of fresh air. What if I told you I liked you all along, that once I was free, my eyes were on you, that when Leah left that first time, I noticed you, but when did you notice me? Was it the night we had to carry Alex to the car? I think about that night often. You were such a trooper for that. I know you guys were hooking up or something, but you showed true compassion that night. I think any other girl would have left that fucker, yet you continued on. 

Was it for me? 

Or is it another foolish thought?

A saint you were, lugging around that asshole. I told you later that I barely looked when your boobs were bouncing in that tank top, nearly spilling out when you bent to lift his drunk body. I lied, I was fucking obsessed with you, thinking I couldn’t believe Alex would fuck it up, and now how dumb am I? I’m still obsessed with you, but I’ve been taking time to actually be single, to not fall into that hopeless behavior as before. Another bed isn’t going to answer these questions, all the things I wish you said to me. I can be single for as long as I need. 

I’ll wait.

I’ll wait because what other choice do I have? I keep seeing you around, but you keep a safe distance. Am I really unapproachable? Do you not have questions? Do you feel like our connection was fleeting? Sam told me that you asked about me and asked how I was doing after everything. I wish it was a question you never had to ask. Are you coming around to the idea of me? Or was it out of pity?

The other day, when finals finally hit, the only place I could go was the dreaded library. Who knew it would become a graveyard for all my misgivings? The place was so full, and I was desperate for a seat. The only spot was at the end of your table. I thought, what are the fucking odds? And I stood there from afar, watching you, your nose pointed down, vigorously writing something down. I didn’t do it on purpose, interrupt you, but please know it was my only choice, and when I started to approach you, it was like you knew; your head whipped in my direction, then at your table, the open spot at the end. 

Your eyes scanned your surroundings, the realization of our predicament dawning on you just as our eyes met, and I asked you if I could sit, promising I wouldn’t bother you. I thought you’d gather your stuff, leave me feeling hopeless and dumb for even approaching you, but you simply said, “Sure,” nodding your head toward the empty seat, and I forced my legs in motion, my whole body trembling, my heart racing at the thought of sharing even a fraction of your space, breathing the same air you were breathing, and like an idiot I clumsily set my things up as hateful glares from students around us pleaded with me to be silent. 

A breathy little laugh rose up your chest, and you sealed your lips shut, smoothing them together to hide your ongoing smile. I felt my body relax then, your eyes catching mine. When they moved back to your paper, I watched you shift in your seat, your spine straightening. You turned the page in your book, continuing as if nothing had just happened, but I hope you know I held onto that moment for days.

And all the while, you kept giving me these tiny little moments to keep, to savor, when the thought of not having you haunted me. 

At some point, there was a shift, a point that led to this moment where you’re standing at the other end of the beer pong table. Your smile beaming right through me, at the little moments of kindness giving way to normalcy that seems to fit because this is how it happened before, right? All the little moments. Except this time you started it, because when did it start? 

Every thought leads back to the library, a stepping stone to tolerance. 

Finals sucked us all in and spit us out, all of us crawling back to the social scene in small strides. I saw you standing in Sam’s kitchen one night, you know, the very place I kissed you that first time, taking us both by surprise. I couldn’t remember the last time I was that nervous to kiss someone new. You were standing in that same spot, the very spot where you wrapped your arms around my neck and pressed into the kiss. Did you remember? When you were standing there talking to your friends, did it cross your mind? And when Sam roped me into the conversation, you didn’t even flinch. 

Did you want me there?

Another time, I saw you standing in line for the bathroom at a party I wasn’t expecting you to be at. I didn’t even have to use the bathroom. I just wanted to see if you would figure out a way to excuse yourself. We locked eyes as soon as I filled in the space behind you, and I laughed to myself, thinking maybe this would be us, me always trying to find the empty spaces in your life to fit myself into. You muttered, “Hey,” Then turned back to the person you were talking to in line. She was the next to go in, so I knew I would have you alone in no time.

A hopeless fool, a desperate fool.

The girl was so drunk I don’t know how you kept your cool, carrying on a half-hearted conversation on your end because I could tell you we’re vibing, but she wouldn’t have known the difference, she could have talked to a wall I’m sure. The girl spotted me behind you like I hadn’t been standing there long enough to hear her talking about a guy she was trying to hook up with; then she said:

“Oh my god…speaking—of hot guys to hook up with—” her words loud, and you both turned to look at me then, my face burning, thinking if this girl even knew, and I waited for your reaction, but your eyes just drifted down my shirt, the one you said was your favorite. Then the door clicked open, stealing everyone’s attention, and you turned the girl in the direction of the door. She slurred the line “Good luck, girl” over her shoulder, and you laughed. 

I thought you would look back at me after she went in, but you didn’t. I could see the faint glow of your phone screen, and you stood there busying yourself. That was the first time we had been that close, me close enough to feel the warmth emanating from your body. I had to force myself to breathe, my face sometimes turning toward you to take in that familiar smell, and when you shoved your phone into your back pocket, you crossed your arms and pressed your shoulder into the wall. Could you feel it? 

The tether buzzing with the past? 

You must have felt it because your face shifted, your eyes meeting mine, you gazing over your shoulder at me, your face void of any expression, a curious daze in your eyes. I didn’t know what to say, my words clogging the back of my throat. Then drunk girl spilled out of the bathroom, robbing your attention, and just like that, we were strangers again, you moving to help the stumbling girl, your hands suddenly full as she laughed into your neck, cooing at you in the way drunk girls seem to take on new best friends, and you were hers.

“I’m going to help her.” You said, directing your words at me, and I pushed myself off the wall, ready to help.

“Do you need a hand?” I asked, ready to lend a helping hand as you slung her arm around your shoulder. 

You laughed at this, “No—No—I think this is how it happened the first time…” Then you turned away with a smile on your face, and I stood there trying to register your words. It took someone nudging my shoulder to keep the line moving, and when I closed myself into the bathroom, I had to laugh, thinking back to that night with Alex. It was like you were answering one of the many tormenting questions, and now obsession wouldn’t even touch the surface of how I felt. 

That was the door opening, just a crack, you leaving a crumb for me to pick up, and I turned that crumb into a fucking feast.

So now, everything that’s happened in the empty spaces we’ve filled with tiny glances, a faint smile, a lingering stare from across the room. A “Hi” here and a “Bye” there equated to this very moment, and when you land the winning shot, sinking your ping pong ball into the final cup. Sam pipes up, apologizing for making the game more competitive than needed, insisting everyone shake hands and call some kind of truce.

You’re all smiles, darting over to Sam as I reach forward and shake your friend’s hand, who gives me one of those death glares, one of the hundreds she’s given me since things ended, but I can say they have lessened, so maybe that’s progress. She squeezes my hand hard, and I take the hint; then she releases my hand, and we both turn to watch you and Sam caught up in one of the many silly moments you guys tend to get lost in. I was on the fence about whether or not I should stand there waiting because the moment seemed to be slipping by. I was on the verge of feeling stupid, but I really wanted this moment with you. My only saving grace was that your friend was still there, which meant I still had a chance.

A hopeless fool.

When your eyes caught mine from over Sam’s shoulder, you laughed, your eyes lighting up, a bit tipsy, your magnetic energy filling the room, “Oh no! We’re not good sports if we don’t shake everyone’s hand, Sam!” You yell, eyes on me the whole time, then they move to your friend, and you reach out, my heart racing when Sam playfully shakes mine, pushing past me when someone calls their name. 

And then it was just us.

I caught your friend whispering something in your ear right before she slipped away. You had one of those cunning smiles as you rolled your eyes, and then you looked at me. I could only guess what she was saying. I’m sure it didn’t take a rocket scientist. Your smile dropped slightly, and you took a step toward me, but all I could do was smile as my heart leaped out of my chest, all the noise around me dull because, at that moment, you were the only one in that room, the only one that mattered, you were the world itself, and call me dramatic, but the brain has a funny way of playing out moments in our heads, and I had been waiting for this one for a long time. 

“Good game—” You said, holding out your hand to fist pump me, and I had to laugh, me staring down at your hand, thinking, of course, it wouldn’t be that simple. 

I clicked my tongue, “I don’t get a proper handshake, huh?” and this makes you laugh, your hand stationary, and I wrapped my hand around your fist, pulling you toward me as I leaned into your ear and said:

“This isn’t rock, paper, scissors…” And you liked this because you laughed then, eyes level with mine. Your free hand came up to my chin and cupped it, playfully jostling it back and forth.

“It is if I say it is…Mr.” 

The words sent a jolt down my spine, a mix of fear and excitement. You let my chin drop, my mouth splaying open, leaving me dumbfounded. But I collected myself quickly, righting myself, and nodded my head. “I hear you loud and clear—trust me—” I tell you, all smiles gone, but the corner of your mouth is still turned up, so I know the message isn’t a threat.

The next morning, I woke up to a missed call from you and one new voicemail: 

“Hello…”

…

“Hello? Harry…?”

…

“Oh, fuck—it’s leaving a message—shit…”

…

“Um—hi. Fuck. I didn’t want to leave a message, but fuck um…I wanted to talk to you—obviously—I hate leaving messages, and I think I’m drunk…so I’m just going to fucking say it, okay—I miss you, like a lot, and you’re so fucking annoying—there I said it—and I can’t stand that you’re like a good guy—I think—I don’t—yeah, I think you must be a good guy…you haven’t fucked someone else since Leah. I haven’t heard anything. I don’t know why that matters. Damn. Can I delete this? Fuck. Hang up…I mean, I’m hanging up.”

…

“Bye. I’m hanging up. Bye—shit.”

A/N: Yes, I left you on a cliffhanger...but good news! There will be a Part 4! Sorry! don't have me!!

Taglist: Let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged for this series. @sassamanda77 @panini @unfuckwitablenarry @triski73 @haleyannaw @dipmeinhoneyh @angeldavis777 @matildasatellite @cendrineee @prettygurl-2009 @harry2121 @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @lizsogolden

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[cillianmurphysdimples]

A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Sixty Eight)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Sixty Eight: Cillian startles Y/N with a call in the early hours, but it seems to open the floodgates in a positive way. Despite a chat, Cillian makes it clear that things aren't okay. Though time with Clíodhna seems to settle both Cillian and Y/N's hearts. [Mild angst/Emotional - mentions of premie babies]

@cherrycilly @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @watermeezer @strangeions @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @borntodiemp3

Your phone rings sharply into the silent bedroom a little after three am. You startle awake and your first, terrifying thought is that it's the hospital. Jolting your entire body, you turn over and reach for your phone on the nightstand, answering it without much notice to who the call is from. “Shit, hello?” You say, panicked. 

“It's only me.” Cillian says quietly. “Ah, shit, sorry, I didn't think - did I scare ya?” 

You sigh loudly. “It's okay.” You say, holding the phone to your cheek as you lay back against the pillows. “I hear you had a nice nap.” You say, and immediately condemn yourself for the attitude. “Feeling any better?” 

You hear him sigh, “I feel like a knob.” He scoffs. “But Jesus Christ, Y/N, why did you say that?” He sounds sad, hurt, and you feel worse than before. When he was angry at you, it made you feel justified. Now that he sounded so small, and desperately damaged by your comment, you just felt ashamed. You know you have to sit with that, you know it's owed. “Why? Telling me I can't see her, making her name a fucking…” he sighs, and you're not sure if he's stopped talking because he feels like he might cry, or because he might say something terrible. 

“I said the worst thing I could think of because I wanted it to hurt you. I'm hurting, Cillian, and I wanted to make you hurt, too. I can't and I won't justify it. It's cruel, it's malicious, and every dark thought you have against me is absolutely justified. I'm so sorry.” You say. You take a deep breath, feeling the heaviness of your guilt rest on your chest. “Words don't fix it, but I regretted it the moment I said it. I am so sorry. She's been a Murphy from the moment I knew she was there, she is and always will be a Murphy. I have no right to say what I said, and I am so sorry.” 

You listen to the change in his breathing, and you don't like it. “I told you recently, I can't keep going over this - it's always the same fight at the root, Y/N, and it's fucking exhausting. Have I not proved to you all this time how important you are? Have I not proved to you that you're the one person I want to be with?” He says, and the tone of his voice is painful to hear. He's broken, and you know it's you that has caused that. 

“You have. You do. Every day,” you say, your chin quivering. “Every fucking day.” 

“I wanted to be with you and our daughter today, and you turned me away. I know I came in there with the head on me, and I'm not gonna pretend I'm innocent. I know I fucked you off. But you denied me my own daughter today, and the only fucking way I could shift that fucking feeling was seeing my sons. I needed to be Dad today, and you stopped that.” Cillian speaks so candidly, and it breaks your heart. “And I didn't come here and grass y’up to them. I didn't give the gory fucking details. It's between you and me, as it always will be, and when you realise that that extends to fucking everything, maybe you'll fucking drop the constant lack of trust.” 

“It's not a lack of trust.” You say firmly. “It's not, Cill.” 

“Then what is it, Y/N? Why are you so focused on the thought that I'm about to leave you for a situation that ruined me before?” He asks, and he's so pleading that your throat constricts. 

“It's not about you. It's me. I'm the fucking problem. It's never been you.” You say, trying hard not to sob so hard that you can't speak. “It's me, Cillian. It's my fault, my-my fear, and history…and it's never been you. I expect you to be something that I can't even define, that no human being can really be. You've never done a thing I can't get past, never. It's my head I'm fighting with and I…I let you stand in the firing line too often, and I'm so sorry.” The sound of his slow exhale is disconcerting. You can't determine what he's feeling. “I love you, and our baby girl, and I know I need to fix myself. I want to. Yvonne answered your phone and she was…nice. If she knew the truth, she wouldn't be. I have no right feeling the way I do around her, not when it's me and you who did the wrong thing. I know I have to fix it, change my thoughts and how I react. I will fix it. But I can't do it right now, and I can't do it without you. Please, Cill. Come home - please?” 

“You said it takes a row to get me to talk,” he sighs, “Y/N, why has it taken me being here to get you to be honest about your issues here?* He breathes in noisily. “I'm not getting at ya - I'm so fucking glad you've actually admitted all this. It's just bollocks it's been after all this, and that the two of us have been acting like a pair of school kids when Clíodhna needs us.” 

“I know,” you feel your breath catch in your throat. “I just… Cill, come home?” He sighs into the phone once again. “Or maybe you need more space? If you need more space, it's okay, I understand. I know what I said…” 

“Y/N, would you shut the fuck up for a second.” He says, and there's amusement in his tone as his Cork accent thickens up a little, making the muttered phrase sound sing-songy and questioning. “Of course I'm coming home - I'm not so thick with you I'd be throwing everything away, for fucks sake! We need to talk properly, the two of us, and we need to be together for Clíodhna - she doesn't need us biting the heads off each other, or one of us in there alone feeling like shit over it all. Right?” 

You nod, then remember he can't see you. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “You're right.” 

“But promise me something?” He says, and seriousness takes his tone over again. 

“What?” You wet your lips nervously. 

He sighs yet again, “Don't you ever use her against me again. I don't care how mad I make ya, don't you ever do that to me again.” 

Your breath shudders from your chest, “I know… I won't. I'm so sorry.” 

“You didn't take off your ring, did you?” He asks, and for a moment you are sure he sounds worried. 

You smile sadly, staring around in the darkness of the bedroom. Holding the phone closer to your cheek makes it feel like you're pulling him in towards you a little, though you're not sure why, “Of course I didn't.” 

You hear shifting through the phone, and you wonder what he's doing. “It's still early - I'm gonna wait a bit, til the boys get up. I might run Aran into school. But I'll come home then, and we can go to the hospital. Yeah?” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah.” You whisper. 

“We go in there to her united, right? And then later today, when we get back home, we talk properly?” He says, he's not unkind but you know by his tone he isn't budging on what he wants and needs to happen. But you agree entirely. 

“Yeah,” you say, nodding your head. 

It's quiet for a moment and then he coughs lightly. You don't know if it's a throat clearing, or if he's getting emotional. You wish he was here - you can read his face so easily. “I'll let you go,” he says. “I'll see you in a wee while.” 

“See you soon.” You mumble. 

“I love you,” he says clearly. “Okay?” 

Warm tears well in your eyes quickly. “I love you, too.” 

It's close to ten am when Cillian pushes in through the front door. You hadn't returned to sleep after speaking to him, and instead had spent time in Malachy's room, staring at all the items for Clíodhna, wondering when it would be appropriate to truly make it her space. You'd placed the Moses basket in here, too - seeing it in your bedroom had only made you feel the distance between you and her more deeply. You straighten up from the dishwasher and push the door shut as he walks towards the kitchen. He looks pale, and sad, but he smiles at you softly. You flatten your mouth into a thin line and raise your eyebrows; you want a hug but you don't know if he'll grant it. It makes you want to cry entirely when he draws his hands from his pockets and holds open his arms. “C’mere,” he says, jerking his head to beckon you over. While you don't run to him, it's definitely a speed walk. You bundle yourself in against his chest and inhale deeply as his arms close around your back. That Cillian smell, mingled with cigarettes and fresh air, washes over you and the sound of his beating heart immediately floods into your ear. 

“I'm so sorry, Cill.” You mumble into the fabric of his thick jumper. 

“Ah, I know y’are.” he says, muttering against the hair on the top of your head. “It isn't okay, Y/N, but it will be.” 

Somehow that small line makes you feel better - you know you can't erase what you said or how it made him feel, but knowing that he knows it came from somewhere that is nowhere near the truth inside, and that it is something that you two can work forwards from, allows you to make divisions in your brain. It will get better, and he doesn't hate you entirely though you know he has the right. “You don't like me very much right now, do you?” 

He scoffs against your hair, “Not really,” he admits, “But I love you, and when we have a real conversation later, we can sort it all out. But don't think for a single second that I don't love you, okay? I do, I love you so much.” He squeezes his arms around you, “We've just got a lot of shit to clean up.” 

You don't mind his answer. There have been times in the past when you haven't liked him very much either, but hearing him consistently remind you that it doesn't mean he doesn't love you, that he loves you as much as he does, allows you to think clearly. 

“C’mon,” he taps his hands against your back like he's playing bongos then drops his arms. You take a step back, and look at him nervously. “You have anything you want? We'll head on up with Clíodhna.” You nod your head at his question. “Grand, so. Put on your shoes, we'll go.” 

He's not rude, but he's matter of fact. He's not cruel, but he's a little blunt. But he smiles when you look at him, even if it's only small. You deserve it. But you miss him. 

It isn't okay right now - but it will be.

Chloe greets you with a cheerful smile as you and Cillian walk through the double door into the room within the NICU that Clíodhna is in. You can hear the sounds of machines, and smell a mixture of disinfectant and the formula feeds provided to the babies. Chloe approaches you with an air of comfort and breeziness, without seeming like she's oblivious to the fears of the parents or the seriousness of the support needed by the babies here. She leaves another couple seated beside their larger baby inside of an incubator, and you look at the little one with wonder at just how sick they must be to be born at a healthy weight, and still be in need of such focused care.  

“Howeyis?” She says, ever the cheerful one. 

Cillian places both of his hands against your shoulders as he stands close behind you, and for a moment you think he's being affectionate, but then he sidesteps you and drops his arms. “She been alright overnight?” He asks Chloe. 

“Not a bother on her.” She smiles, “The night Sister said there was another instance of her resisting the breathing support so we're keeping a close eye on that. We don't want to be too premature in drawing back if she still needs the assistance, but it's a great sign of her strength.” 

You watch Cillian's cheek dimple as he smiles a very tiny smile. “Can I get her?” He says, his eyebrows rising high up his forehead, pushing tiny wrinkles beneath his flopping fringe. 

Chloe winks at him comically, “Sure why else are you here if not for the cuddles?” She gives you a gentle smile as Cillian starts to walk towards Clíodhna's little cot, and touches your arm gently. “How are you doing?” You draw your lips to the side and shrug your shoulders. “If there's anything you need, you'll let me know?” She whispers, and you nod slowly. She gives you another small smile, then walks towards Cillian to help with getting Clíodhna positioned with him. 

You stand back and watch as Chloe opens the side of the incubator, dropping the entire panel down, and checks to see if Cillian is seated. She instructs him to take off his jumper but leave his t-shirt on, and just to drag down the neckline. He sits awkwardly, following her instructions, and keeps his eyes on Chloe as she scoops Clíodhna up in both palms. She's skilled, and doesn't get tangled in the wires and tubes once as she turns slowly. She repositions her hands on Clíodhna carefully, then bends over Cillian as she steadily places Clíodhna in against his chest. Once she places her down against his skin, she moves the wires and tubes strategically and then stands back, watching the monitor to ensure the disturbance hasn't caused her any stress. Your eyes flick up and down over Cillian, as his hands immediately cup around the tiny bundle buried under his t-shirt. He closes his eyes and rests his head back, and his hands slide up and down her tiny body slowly. Chloe leaves you alone, and you move closer now that you're alone. You linger by the chair for a moment, just watching Cillian and Clíodhna, feeling so many emotions at once. 

“Sit down.” Cillian says quietly, and opens his eyes. You stare at one another for a moment. “Sit down, Y/N, c’mon.” He takes his right hand away from Clíodhna and holds it out. As you take the seat beside his, he grabs your left hand in his and laces your fingers together. “She keeps moving her fingers,” he says softly. “Just these small movements.” There's a tiny dimple to his cheek as he gives the smallest of smiles. “I love you.” He says, and it's whispered and husky, and slightly strangled. He's emotional, and it makes you emotional too. 

“I love you, too.” you say, and your chin bobs sadly. 

He squeezes your hand again, and turns his head to face you, still resting it back against the high rest of the chair.  “We're alright, yeah? We're gonna be alright. You, and me, and this wee girl. We'll be alright.” 

.

[escapismbook]

ESCAPISM

Chapter Five | I Walk the Line

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

→ AUs: non idol!au→ Genre(s): dark romance, smut, mature, mafia

→ Trope(s): professor-student, forbidden romance, dark, slow-burn, seductive, mafia

→ Rating: mature/explicit (this is mature/explicit content, so you have been warned.)

→ Word count: 5.6k

→ warnings + triggers: explicit smut, (female) OC is innocent and pure and Yoongi is desperate for her. Drug use, Strong language, Explicit scenes, Mentions of S.A, Violence, Dark Themes, Crime Elements, Alcohol, Club setting, Obsession, Possessive, Protective Love, Emotional.

→ Author’s note: Escapism is a dark romance—intense, poetic, and deeply atmospheric. It explores desire, deception, and the pull of the forbidden. This story contains mature themes, including:   

This story is also written by two authors. Both working on the two couple. Please read with caution. For those who stay, welcome to a world where love and darkness intertwine.

(Don't forget to like and comment.)

A small note: When you see the italic font, it means they are speaking in Korean.

CHAPTER FIVE | I Walk the Line Song for chapter: Chase Atlantic | Swim Halsey | I Walk the Line

June arrived with the slow burn of early summer, the days stretching longer, the air thick with warmth. Two weeks had passed, and Yoongi had made it his personal amusement to give Aalia a hard time. Nothing she did in class seemed to be correct in his eyes. Her answers were never quite right. Her interpretations of the material were always slightly off. Even when she approached him for guidance, her voice careful, almost hopeful, he barely spared her a glance.

“Who needs help?” he would ask the room, and before anyone else could react, Aalia’s hand would shoot up, her desperation barely concealed. But Yoongi would only let his gaze flicker past her, settling on someone else instead. And then another. And another. He wasn’t just ignoring her. He was punishing her.

He could feel her frustration mounting with each dismissal, each subtle slight. She wasn’t the type to complain outright, but he saw it in the way she tried to catch his eye, the way her lips pressed together when he walked past her like she didn’t exist. She was unraveling under his silence, and he liked it. He liked the shift in her expression when she realized he wasn’t going to acknowledge her. He liked the way her fingers curled into fists on the desk. He liked seeing her upset. Seeing her desperate.

“Aalia, can I see your – wow!” Jungkook whistled. He had only seen her this angry when he accidently ate her blueberry Magnum ice cream a few days ago. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I. Am. Fine,” she gritted her teeth. 

Jungkook tilted his head as he slowly reached for her notebook and took it to his table.

The clock was nearing seven o’clock, the once-bustling classroom now eerily silent. The last of her classmates had trickled out long ago, their laughter fading down the corridor, leaving Aalia alone beneath the dim glow of fluorescent lights.

Her fingers hovered over her laptop’s trackpad, frustration tightening in her chest. No matter how long she stared at the final part of her assignment, the words blurred together, stubbornly refusing to make sense.

‘Come on!’ she mentally screamed at herself. ‘Work brain! Work!’

But nothing. If anything, she could almost hear her brain laughing at her.

She dropped her head in her hands, her fingers tangeling in her hair. Her eyes were locked on the screen, her eyes reaking over the one sentence of an introduction she could not finish. Her gaze shifted to the top corner of the screen and she looked at the time. Her hands dragged down her face as a deep sigh left her lips. She knew there was only one way to do this. She closed her laptop and stood up. 

The hallways were quiet as she made her way to his office, the heels of her shoes clicking softly agaisnt the polished floors.

Yoongi was skimming through paperwork, his pen gliding across the surface before he moved to the next paper. And then, a knock pulled his attention away just as he marked the last paper. He looked up as the door opened, and there she was standing in the doorway with her laptop cradled against her chest. 

He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest as he tiled his head slightly. “Well, well,” he mused, amusement lacing his voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Aalia resisted the urge to roll her eyes, holding back the impulse with a slow inhale through her nose. She had to keep herself in check. She was already at a disadvantage, standing there in his office like this, seeking his help after two weeks of being ignored.

"I'm stuck on my assignment," she said, her voice clipped, controlled

Yoongi didn’t respond right away. He simply watched her, that same insufferable smugness curving his lips. His gaze was slow and deliberate as he took her in—her dress, soft white with delicate green, yellow, and blue flowers, flowing just past her knees. It wasn’t particularly tight, but the way it hugged her waist didn’t escape his notice. Nor did the way her long hair cascaded down in waves, slightly disheveled from her frustration.

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. "And you waited until now to ask for help?" His tone was almost mocking, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Aalia blinked. Her irritation sparked instantly, heating beneath her skin.

"I've been trying to get you to help me for days," she shot back, her voice sharper now, edged with frustration.

Yoongi could see it—the way annoyance tightened her expression, the way her lips parted as if she had more to say but bit it back. And it amused him. More than it should. There was something satisfying about how easily he could get under her skin.

"Maybe if you were prehaps more persuasive, I’d help you," he murmured, his voice infuriatingly nonchalant.

Aalia scoffed. "Persuasive?"

"Mmm," Yoongi hummed, leaning back in his chair. "A little convincing."

Something in her snapped. The frustration of the past two weeks, the way he had deliberately ignored her, the smug amusement in his expression—it all simmered over. And for the first time, her attitude surfaced, sharp and unfiltered.

"Charming," she said, a tight, insincere smile curving her lips. It pained her face to even hold it. She tilted her head slightly, voice dipped in saccharine venom. "Do you fuck all your students?"

For the first time, Yoongi was genuinely taken aback. It was subtle—the faint shift in his features, the slight widening of his eyes, the momentary pause in his breath—but it was there. No one had ever spoken to him with such audacity before. "Do you always speak to all your professors like that?" His voice was low and measured. 

Aalia’s gaze dropped to the floor. "No," she admitted, her voice smaller now. "I do not."

Yoongi smiled softly, a dark gleam in his brown eyes as he watched her. "Then why is it," Yoongi asked, his voice lower, quieter—almost curious. “That you find yourself speaking to me in such a manner?” 

Slowly, she looked up again. Aalia held his gaze for a moment, and for the first time, she faltered. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

His smile merged into a smirk at her apology. The quiet submission in her voice pleased him. His lips pressed together as if in thought as he studied her for a moment. Then, slowly he nodded. “Let’s try again,” he said. “Politely this time.”

Aalia inhaled and steadied herself. “Would you please help me with my assignment, sir?”

Something inside him shifted at the way the words left her lips, slow and sweet. Like honey dripping into his ears, warm and indulgent. “That’s better,” he said, more pleased now. “See how much better it is when you behave?” She wanted to snap at him with a sharp retort, but she swallowed it down. Instead, her fingers curled against the edge of her laptop, tense with restraint. 

Yoongi watched as she walked towards the larger table in the room and placed her laptop down. He stood from his desk and went over to sit next to her. “I have chosen to speak about music label companies,” she explained. “How they make money and everything. I've written the essay, but I'm not sure what to do for my introduction. I cannot have a thousand word introduction. It needs to be two-hundred words."

He nodded as she explained her essay topic, before he took the laptop and began to read silently. The usual sharp amusement in his expression softened, his gaze narrowing slightly as he focused. Aalia, for once, did not fidget under his scrutiny. For the first time tonight, they were both genuinely invested in the assignment, the charged air between them settling into something quieter, something almost... normal.

The only sounds in the room were the faint ticking of the clock and the distant murmur of the university’s nighttime staff moving about. The glow from the laptop screen illuminated his face, shadows carving sharper angles along his jawline. Aalia watched as his eyes scanned each line, the small furrow in his brows revealing his meticulous nature.

When he finally turned to her, his voice was measured, thoughtful. "Maybe you could focus on the main functions of a music label company and the role they play within the music industry," he suggested. His tone lacked its usual edge, slipping into something more academic. "The introduction should grab the reader’s attention and make them want to read the rest of the essay, so don’t feel like you have to include everything in the intro. Just focus on the most important things."

Aalia nodded, lips pressing together, but there was still hesitation in her expression. "Well, I'm talking about how Korean music labels work," she said, tilting her head slightly. "So should I say, ‘In this essay, I will be talking about korean music lables?”

He hummed, considering her words, before nodding again. "You can phrase it better than that. Try something like; This essay will examine the inner workings of Korean music labels and their role in the music industry." He gave her a more refined sentence, something precise yet compelling, and as soon as the words left his lips, something clicked in her mind.

"Ahhh," she gasped, her eyes lighting up. The pieces were falling into place now. “Okay, okay. Got it. Thank you.”

Without another word, she closed her laptop and left his office. Yoongi watched her go before the door shut.

His paperwork was done, but he found himself scrolling through his phone, aimlessly flicking through articles and emails, his mind elsewhere. His thoughts, unbidden yet persistent, wandered back to her. Aalia. The way her lips had tightened when he teased her, the way her frustration had given way to understanding. The way she looked when she realized she was speaking out of turn and faltered.

And then, just as if summoned by his thoughts, she walked back into his office. This time, she didn’t hesitate at the door. She moved with purpose, her steps softer but more certain, making her way directly to his desk. She placed her laptop down in front of him, the screen turned his way.

He arched a brow but said nothing as he took the laptop, his eyes moving over the newly written introduction. The words were better now, structured, engaging—he could see her thought process aligning properly. He nodded approvingly. But he noticed one thing. “The citations?”

"Ohh, um—" Aalia glanced at the screen, ready to answer, but then her eyes flickered to the time in the corner, and suddenly, something shifted in her expression. “Aish,” she muttered under her breath, just barely audible, but Yoongi still caught it. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

She hesitated before answering, as if debating whether to even tell him. “I need to go home.”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he watched as she pulled out her phone, her fingers tapping quickly against the screen. His eyes didn’t leave her—not once. The way her brows knitted together, the faint frown on her lips.

He knew what she was doing before she even said it. She was looking for an Uber.

Something inside him coiled, tight and unrelenting. The thought of her getting into a car—alone, with a stranger—made his jaw clench. The idea of another man being near her, even in something as simple as a ride home, was unbearable.

No, that was not happening.

“Cancel it,” he said. “I’ll drive you home.” 

“No need-“

He stood up and towered over her small frame. “Cancel it,” he repeated, slower this time.

Yoongi sat in the driver’s seat of his black SUV, the engine humming beneath him as his fingers lazily scrolled through his phone. There was no real purpose to it—just a way to pass the time. The screen’s glow reflected faintly in his dark eyes, but his mind was elsewhere.

When he finally looked up, he saw her.

Aalia stepped out of the building; her bag now slung over her shoulder. Her movements were hesitant, like she was still processing the fact that she was getting into his car. The streetlights above painted her skin in silver, her dress catching the glow as she approached. When she opened the passenger door and slid inside.

He placed his phone down, shifted gears, and pulled out onto the road like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Aalia, however, wasn’t nearly as composed. Her hands rested tensely on her lap, fingers clutching onto the fabric of her dress. The air inside the car felt heavier than it should have, charged with something she couldn’t name.

“I do not live in Seoul,” she said, her voice breaking the silence.

Yoongi turned the corner, navigating through the glowing streets, his curiosity piqued. His grip on the steering wheel remained loose, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of intrigue in his gaze. “Where do you live?” he asked.

“Yongin,” she answered. “It’s about a forty-minute drive.” As she spoke, she reached for her phone again, fingers tapping against the screen. “I can still take an Ub—”

“No.” he shook his head once, firm, cutting her off before she could even finish the sentence. His eyes flickered toward her briefly, sharp and final.

The car merged onto the highway, the city lights fading into a blur as they left Seoul behind. He drove in silence, calm and certain, while beside him, Aalia sat still, her pulse loud in her ears.

The hum of the engine was low, steady, a rhythmic vibration that filled the silence between them. Outside, the streets blurred into a wash of neon signs and dimly lit alleys as Yoongi maneuvered the SUV effortlessly, his hands relaxed on the wheel. Occasionally, his eyes flickered to the passenger seat.

She sat quietly, her gaze trained on the road ahead, lost in thought. He glanced at her, subtly at first, but his eyes betrayed his indifference. The passing streetlights created a soft, golden glow on her skin, illuminating her features in the darkness. It was almost ethereal, almost saintly—the way the light cradled the soft curves of her cheeks, accentuated the delicate angle of her jawline, and melted into the cascade of her long, dark hair. A cruel irony. She looked like something untainted, untouched by the sins of the world. Yet, she had been in Kitty Gang and he had kissed her.

The angel who had wandered into the devil’s playground. His fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel as his curiosity gnawed at him. He wanted to understand her.

“How long have you been living in Yongin?” he broke the silence. His voice was deep and calm, but his curiosity was piqued. He wanted to know more about her.

She blinked, as if pulled from her thoughts. “I moved to Korea when I was fifteen with my parents.” He nodded; his eyes still locked on the road. But then her voice cut through the air again, this time almost rushed. “You didn’t have to drive me,” she said.

He exhaled a short breath, almost amused by her persistence. “It’s fine,” he said simply. “I am not letting you take an Uber this late.”

She listened to his words, letting them settle into her chest like a weight. She knew it was wrong. Everything about this was a sin waiting to happen. She exhaled softly. “It’s wrong,” she murmured, her voice barley above a whisper. 

Yoongi turned his head slightly, an arched brow lifting in quiet amusement. “And why is that?” his tone was unreadable.

“You’re my professor,” her voice was firm. “And I am your student.” 

He didn’t respond at first. He had heard her say it before, but hearing it again, the words didn’t deter him. If anything, they made his hunger for her grow. The forbidden had always been the most tempting.

He remained silent for a moment before speaking again. “Is that the only reason?”

She turned her gaze to the window, watching the neon-lit city blur past. “It should be reason enough,” she exhaled. 

He let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no humor in it. He understood her reasoning. But desire was never logical. And his desire for her—this fascination, this insatiable curiosity—was something far beyond reason. It only grew stronger with every second she sat beside him in the dim glow of the car.

He stole another glance at her, taking in her side profile, the way her lashes fanned against her skin, the way her lips pressed together in thought. He wanted to know what was running through her mind. If she was as tormented by this as he was.

“You do not like me very much, do you?” he asked, his voice tingled with a hint of amusement. 

“I do not have to like you,” she answered without missing a beat.

He smirked, but he did not push the topic further. Instead, the car fell into silence again, the tension growing in the air between them. He inhaled, and that’s when it hit him—the scent. The scent. Dior Hypnotic Poison.

It was the same perfume she had worn that night at Kitty Gang. The same scent that had clung to his clothes after he had kissed her, after he had tasted the innocent of her lips. It was intoxicating. A scent crafted for temptation. The memory of her lips, her breathless gasps, the way her fingers had clutched his shirt as she straddled him. It was a drug, laced into his system now, impossible to rid himself of. He forced his breathing to remain even.

His fingers flexed subtly against the steering wheel. He looked at her again, and then he saw it the golden chain around her neck, catching the dim light of the car. A crucifix. A delicate, holy thing resting against the pulse of her throat, right above where his lips had once been.

His fingers twitched against the steering wheel again. What a cruel contrast. An angel wearing the mark of God, yet he wanted to ruin her. His smirk deepned. ‘Oh, Aalia,’ he thought to him

The drive stretched in comfortable silence, the low hum of the engine filling the space between them. Outside, the city blurred into streaks of amber and silver as streetlights flickered past, casting fleeting halos of light that illuminated her face in the darkness.

She tilted her head, and strands of her dark hair fell like silk around her shoulders, framing a face too gentle for the unerworld he belonged to. She looked ethereal—like something he had no right to touch. An angel sitting beside him, veiled in innocence.

Aalia shifted, reaching for her cardigan and draping it over her legs, as if shielding herself from unseen eyes. It wasn’t the cold—he knew that. The flowy summer dress she wore rode up just enough to reveal the soft skin of her thighs, and she had noticed it too. She was praying in her mind, he could tell.

Yoongi let his tongue press against the inside of his cheek, something stirring deep in his gut. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You’re religious,” he pointed out, eyes flickering to the necklace. She didn’t respond. She kept her eyes locked outside the window, her lips slightly parted, lost in silent words.

His lips curled slightly. “Touchy subject?” he asked, voice teasing, laced with curiosity.

“Shh.” Her voice was soft, almost breathless. “I’m praying.”

He blinked, a little surprised. He hadn’t expected that. His lips twitched into a small smile, though he wasn’t sure why. Something about being in such a confined space with her, being this close yet forbidden, was pushing him on the brink of madness.

He kept his eyes glued to the road, tamping down the growing desire in his chest. Then she exhaled—a deep, soft breath, one that sounded far too much like a moan. She tilted her head to the side, fingers brushing against her neck, rubbing it absently.

A jolt of desire shot through him, and his mind ran with sinful thoughts. The things he could do to her. The things he could teach her.

“How religious are you?” he asked, voice lower now.

She didn’t answer.

He glanced at her, then spoke again. “What were you praying about?”

She hesitated before speaking. “That is between me and God,” she said simply. “And I’m committed to my faith.”

He nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. Her defiance, her stubbornness—it both frustrated him and aroused him. Her commitment to her faith clashed violently with his own desires, and it only made him want her more. “Committed, huh?” His voice was low, teasing. “I suppose that means I should stay in my lane, then.”

“You finally understand,” she said dryly, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

Her wit, her sharp tongue—it was both infuriating and intoxicating. “Watch it, darling,” he laughed slightly, “or I might just have to teach you a lesson in obedience.”

She scoffed softly, turning her gaze back to the window.

He could sense the defiance in her, the way she refused to even look at him. It was maddening. His mind wandered again—to her mouth, the way it curved into a smirk when she was being witty. He could almost imagine the way it would feel against his own—

He shook his head. No.

“You really never had a boyfriend?” he asked, steering the conversation elsewhere, though the hunger still lingered in his chest.

For a moment, she was afraid he was going to bring up the make-out at Kitty Gang. Her pulse quickened, fingers curling into her lap. She turned her head, rolling her eyes slightly before shaking it. No, she had never had a boyfriend.

Yoongi felt it like a spark of satisfaction, small but searing. No man had ever had her before, and the fact that she was religious only added to it. It was admirable—pure, delicate, like something that should be worshiped. But fuck—it was also intoxicating. The innocence, her defiance. The temptation was too great.

His mind flashed back to Kitty Gang, to the moment when she had confessed that she had never done anything with anyone. “Nothing either?” he asked again, needing to hear it. “Never?”

She leaned back against the seat, tilting her head to the side with a sigh. “Nope,” she said, her voice edged with irritation. “Only you.”

Only him. Only his hands, his lips, his touch. No one else had ever gotten close. And no one ever would. “Good,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “Because I have no intention of sharing you.”

Her laugh rang through the car, full and unrestrained—the same laugh he had heard the first night at Kitty Gang. And fuck, he loved the way it sounded.

“Nothing is happening between us,” she said, as if it were an undeniable fact.

“Why?” he asked, raising a brow, his eyes shifting to the necklace. “Is it because you made a promise to God?” She didn’t answer, and he hummed, low and knowing and taunting. “What if the waiting period is longer than you expect?”

“I do not mind,” she said with a small shrug. “But clearly you do. If I must wait for someone, then I shall.”

The thought of someone else touching her, someone else earning the right to break through her innocence—made something dark and feral rise within him.

“What?” she snapped, pulling him from his thoughts. He blinked, refocusing. She turned sharply toward him, brows furrowed. “You keep looking at me. What?!”

He cleared his throat, feigning indifference, though the tension in his chest was anything but. “Nothing,” he said smoothly. “Just admiring the view.”

She scoffed. “Stop the car.”

He lifted a brow. “What?”

“I’ll walk.”

He let out a small laugh, amused by her ridiculous demand. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The silence in the car was thick, charged with something heavy, something unspoken. It coiled around them like a serpent, tightening with each passing second. The only sounds were the low hum of the engine and the distant rush of cars speeding by on the highway, yet Yoongi barely heard any of it. He was too busy watching her—watching the way her chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, watching the way her delicate fingers curled against her lap, watching the stubborn set of her jaw as she continued staring straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

Fuck, he wanted her so bad. He had never been the kind of man to lack self-control. But this girl—this stubborn, defiant angel—was tearing through his restraint like it was paper. And God, she didn’t even know it. She sat there, oblivious to the way she was driving him insane, unaware of the war raging inside him. She was pure temptation wrapped in innocence, and it made him feel utterly unhinged.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he exhaled sharply through his nose. She looked so fucking sexy when she was angry. Her brows were slightly furrowed, lips pursed, her posture stiff with frustration. It shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did. And it was becoming too much. If he didn’t feel her against him again, he would lose his goddamn mind.

Without a second thought, he pulled the car to a sharp stop on the side of the highway, his movements swift and decisive.

Aalia’s head snapped toward him in alarm. “Um… what—what are you doing?” Her voice was slow, uncertain.

Yoongi didn’t answer. He was done thinking. He had already sinned the moment he laid eyes on her two weeks ago.

‘Fuck it,’ he thought. He reached over and undid her seatbelt with a firm, deliberate tug. Before she could react, his hands were on her, pulling her toward him over the center console, forcing her to straddle him in the driver’s seat.

Aalia gasped, her hands instinctively pressing against his shoulders, trying to push away. “Let me go.”

But Yoongi was stronger. His grip was unyielding as he grabbed her wrists, bringing them behind her back and holding them in one hand, effectively trapping her in place. His other hand gripped her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath her dress.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, writhing in his hold, but her movements only made things worse—only made him harder.

His gaze burned into hers, dark and unreadable. “I’m taking what’s mine.” His voice was rough, laced with need.

Her breath hitched. “Yoongi.” It was the first time she had said his name in two weeks—since that night at Kitty Gang—and the way she said it sent a shiver down his spine. There was a warning in her tone, a final plea for him to stop.

Without another word, he cupped her cheek with his free hand and he kissed her hard. He pressed his lips against her in a ferocity that surprised even him. Finally, he could taste her, feel the warmth of her breath against his mouth, and it only made him want more.

She slowly stopped struggling, her body going slack against him, and his hands dropped to her hips, guiding her onto his lap fully. That’s when she felt it—the hard, unmistakable press of him against her, straining through his slacks. She gasped, a sharp, breathless sound, her body tensing as a wave of heat flooded through her. The moment he saw her reaction, his lips curled into a smirk against her mouth.

He rolled her hips over him in a slow, deliberate motion, dragging a moan from deep within her throat before she could stop it. The friction, the heat—it was intoxicating. She gasped again, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, claiming her completely.

“Feel that?” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough as he continued guiding her hips against him, making sure she could feel every inch of him.

“We need to stop,” she said breathlessly, her voice weak, unsure.

But her words were lost to him. He was too far gone, too consumed by her warmth, the sweet little sounds she made. His right hand slid up from her hip, finding the curve of her breast, squeezing it softly through the thin fabric of her dress. Aalia let out a soft whimper of a sound, her fingers twitching against his shoulders.

“No,” he said, his voice rough, dark. “I can’t.”

“Please,” she breathed out, a quiet plea laced with desperation.

And that—God, that nearly destroyed him. The way she said it, the softness of it, the way it broke through the haze clouding his mind. He didn’t want to stop, but for her, he would. Because she was still trembling, still inexperienced, still looking at him with wide, innocent eyes even as she sat straddling him in the middle of the night, her lips kiss-swollen and her breaths coming in soft little pants.

He forced himself to still, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he fought for control. His forehead dropped against hers. He wasn’t ready to let her go—not yet.

The dynamic between them didn’t matter. Not to him. If anything, this only played in his favor—he would get to see her every day. He was a professor for only a year, and she was in her final year at the university. She would graduate, and then there would be nothing standing in his way.

He was a Min after all. He never let anything slip through his fingers once he wanted it.

His dark eyes met hers again, holding her gaze. He was not a religious man, but he understood restraint when necessary. He knew he had to be patient with her, knew he had to respect her boundaries. And he was more than willing to do all of that—for her.

“I will be patient,” he said, voice firm, unwavering. “But I won’t pretend that I don’t want you, Aalia.”

He looked into her eyes, making sure she understood the gravity of his words. His gaze was hard, serious, leaving no room for doubt. He wanted her to know—this was not a passing desire. This was not something fleeting. This was inevitable.

He held her there, his grip firm yet not cruel, his gaze dark and unwavering. "Do we have an understanding, Aalia?" His fingers tightened on her hips, his thumb tracing lazy circles against her skin, sending shivers up her spine. "You're mine. Mine to touch, mine to protect and love. I won't share you with anyone. You belong to me. You know that. I know that. Do you understand?"

Aalia didn't respond. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her mind was a battlefield, torn between the undeniable truth in his words and the moral war waging within her soul. How could she belong to someone who embodied everything she had been warned against? He was sin and temptation personified, a shadow that threatened to eclipse her light. And yet, when he touched her, when his voice wrapped around her like silk, she could feel herself slipping, sinking into him like he was the very thing she had been created for.

He gripped her hips tighter, his fingers pressing into her soft flesh, his patience wearing thin. "Do. You. Understand, Aalia?" His voice was rough, demanding, each syllable punctuated with authority. And before she even realized what she was doing, her head gave a small nod, as if her body had surrendered before her mind could catch up.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. His free hand, still cupping her cheek, traced his thumb across her skin with a tenderness that contradicted the storm raging inside him. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

The rest of the drive passed in silence, thick and heavy with unspoken words. The city lights blurred past in a golden haze, casting fleeting halos of light over Aalia’s delicate features. She kept her gaze fixed outside the window, her fingers clenched tightly in her lap, as if she were praying once more, clinging to the last remnants of her resolve.

And then, finally, they arrived.

Her home stood before them in the moonlight, an expanse of grandeur and wealth. The mansion was pristine, towering with marble columns and sprawling glass windows that reflected the night sky.

She didn't wait for him to say anything. The moment the car rolled to a stop, she shoved the door open and rushed inside without looking back. She didn't stop until she was past the gates, up the grand staircase, and into the sanctuary of her bedroom, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Yoongi watched her go, amusement dancing in his eyes. She moved like a cartoon character, a flustered little thing, fleeing from the villain of the story.

His gaze flickered to the now-empty passenger seat, and there, draped over the leather, was her cardigan. She had left it behind in her hurry, her scent still clinging to the fabric. A smile curled at the corner of his lips.

With a quiet chuckle, he started the engine and drove back to Seoul, the cardigan resting on his lap like a souvenir. A piece of her. Something to remind him that no matter how hard she ran, she would always leave something behind for him to follow.

She was light. He was darkness.

And sooner or later, she would realize—she belonged to him.

(You can read ESCAPISM on AO3 so you can read the chapters there in order)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64009903/chapters/164201557

[jester-flucker-co-uk]

Hey Eden's Garden fans, who wants to know the answer to the Tozu plush / traitor perk puzzle? If you do, I solved it (ФωФ)

For anyone curious as to why, I love math. They said it was a math puzzle and a coordinate plane, which are both things I love so I had to, that and I couldn't find anyone else online who has solved or even wanted to.

As for how, it was quite simple, actually. I immediately assumed the 10. 10 was the domain and range, the interval being [-10,10] for both the x & y axes. So, I took the ending points of the large 4 point star behind mini Tozu and marked the little stars in relation. That got me to the answer of either 8365 or 6583, but I think 8365 is more likely. You're welcome any other pjeg fans who had to have an answer. You can always count on math nerds to solve your problems (^з^)-☆

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it is unfortunate when i go to prayer and cry my eyes out and the only response i really hear is that i simply have to bear it. like usually i can get my emotions out and once they’re settled i hear a rational solution but it sucks when i don’t get the answer i want. i just have to keep waiting. like normally i hear something that gives me strength but wow apparently i’ve hit a new low

[dykexenomorph]

there is literally nothing more painful than DESPERATELY wanting to learn more about a topic but not knowing how to go about gaining the info.......

[propertyofwicked]

FIRST - LN

lando discovers his bestfriends little sister is a virgin, and will stop at no lengths to change that (and ruin her for anyone else)

warnings: smut!! MDNI!! virgin reader, fewtrell!sister, mostly soft smut with a small innocence kink

✧ it's officially assignment szn and ur girl is STRESSED. my posts wont be as frequent for a while but i am currently creating a backlog of things to post! ✧

masterlist the playlist

“ok, y/n - truth or dare?” ria asked the girl from across the circle they sat in on the floor of max’s living room.

being so close in age to her older brother, y/n fewtrell fit in well with his friendship group, often preferring to hang out with them over her own friends. a few others were dotted around the house, P and a couple girls using the kitchen. they were all due to head to a club soon, only using max’s house to pre drink as he lived closest.

“truth,” she responded, giggling slightly as the alcohol began to turn her tipsy - not drunk, just jolly she had told max when he last checked on her.

“where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” ria asked, giggling to herself at the rest of the group laughed, turning to face y/n for her answer. she went silent, heat rising her face gradually. her eyes scanned the group, everyone staring expectantly at her - only max avoided her gaze, looking at his phone to queue songs to the playlist.

“i- uh, well i guess i…haven’t?” she replied, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. she didn’t know why she was so embarrassed - she was 19, almost 20, and it seemed that everyone around her was coupled up, or at least active in that department. and, it hadn’t been through lack of trying, every man she had almost been with had found out and used it to get to who she was related to - and subsequently, lando - or gave her the ick before they got the chance to.

“what do you mean you haven’t?!” niran had laughed out, he hadn’t meant to laugh, he just couldn’t believe it.

“i ju-”

“ok can we stop quizzing my little sister on her sex life? please,” max interrupted, y/n sighing out a breath of relief when they finally moved to the next person. her eyes scouted across the group of people, glad to see them all distracted and no longer giving her the sympathy eyes over her pathetic excuse of a love life.

in her embarrassment, however, y/n missed the way lando’s eyes had darted to look at her when she had answered, missing the way they darkened slightly at the revelation. he shook the thoughts plaguing his mind away, focusing on keeping his face neutral as he watched the blush rising her cheeks.

she didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her as she snuck out the room, however. she’d hope no one would notice her sneaking into the kitchen, smiling at P before swiping a bottle of something and heading to the garden, legs landing gracefully to sit on a step.

this was not the first time she had dwelled on this, but this time, she could at least comfort the blow of her overactive brain by drinking - or so she thought. as not a moment after she’d removed the cap, the bottle was being snatched from her hands and closely inspected by a man towering above her crouched body.

“this smells like ass, y/n - are you sure you wanna drink it?” lando asked her, lowering himself to sit on the step next to her. the sky was darkening, stars filling the vast blackness.

“yes im sure, thanks dad,” she mocked him, arms reaching over to snatch the bottle from him, but once again, he moved his arm out, stretching the bottle further from her reach.

“nuh uh!” lando said, shaking his head, “only when you tell me why you intend on drinking what im sure is the finest bottle of… £3.99 vodka - jesus, £3.99?”

“sorry mister ‘owns-2-mclarens-and-a-lambo’,” she replied, leaning further into his side in a desperate bid to get the bottle back - she wasn’t even sure she wanted to drink it anymore, she just wanted something to fiddle with when lando eventually forced her to talk to him.

“didn’t answer my question, darlin’” he told her, placing the bottle besides him as he removed one of his threaded bracelets, placing it in her exposed palm.

oh he knew her a little too well.

“i jus- no it’s so stupid,” she conceded, the bracelet twisting around her fingers. she stared directly at it, refusing to meet lando’s intense gaze.

“bet it’s not,” he told her, moving an arm to wrap around her when he felt the chill air brush his own skin.

“you know what’s worse than having to announce to your friends that you’re a lonely little virgin that no one wants? being the lonely little virgin. it’s so fucking embarrassing - i’m 19, hell i’m nearly 20 and when everyone around you has someone in their life, it’s so hard not to feel so behind in your own life, to feel completely unlovable, to constantly feel like there’s something wrong with you,” she breathed out, still refusing to make eye contact with the man besides her.

lando took in a deep breath, choosing his next words so carefully. his hand reached up to her chin, turning her face to look up at his.

“y/n, you are not unlovable, you’re not falling behind in life and there is certainly nothing wrong with you,” he told her, his tone harsh in attempt to knock some sense into her. she shook her head at him in disbelief, his hand dropping back to his side.

“see, i really want to believe you but the evidence isn’t really stacking up in support of your argument. if that was true, i probably wouldn’t be sat in my brother’s back garden throwing myself a pity party.”

“i think your brother might’ve had a part to play in this, if im honest y/n,” lando said, slipping up slightly. she paused at his words, before her head shot round to look at him again.

“what? what do you mean max has something do with the fact no one wants me?”

“it’s not that no one wants you, y/n,” he sighed at her again before giving in, realising he’d already said too much to stop now, “it’s just that max has a bad habit of… threatening anyone who even mentions you in that way?” he added, his tone making it sound like he wasn’t even sure himself.

“threatening them?” she repeated, anger beginning to bubble up in her stomach.

“he’s only actually hit 2 of them - hell even ive had a close call with his fist a few times,” lando laughed, before realising what he’d indirectly admitted to. luckily, neither of them had time to dwell on it before the man in question popped his head round the door.

“what are you two losers doing out here?” he joked, before sensing some tension being thrown his way, “whatever, we’re leaving in a minute if you wanna get ready?”

“no thanks,” y/n told him, pushing herself up and beginning to walk past him.

“huh?” max replied, confused.

“i said, no thanks. wouldn’t wanna risk you punching anyone who shows the slightest interest in me,” she added, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. she turned quickly on her heel, walking off, ignoring the group as she trailed up to the spare bedroom.

the two boys shared a look between them, lando’s face holding that of apology whilst max’s was gradually moving to infuriated.

“what did you tell her?” max asked him, jaw clenching slightly.

“i didn’t mean to,” lando replied, throwing his arms out slightly as he stood up, “i just thought she ought to know that the reason boys don’t go for her is not because she is completely unlovable.”

“she said that?” max asked, startled slightly at the comment, “she thought she was unlovable?”

lando said nothing, throwing a simple nod at him before brushing past him and making his way to the front door.

y/n laid in her bed, her mind racing through the conversation with lando, like a record on repeat. she’d heard the rest of them leave the house almost an hour ago, leaving her to lay with her own thoughts once more.

there was nothing wrong with her, max just threatened anyone who came too close to her.

max had punched 2 guys who had tried to get with her.

max had tried to punch lando - wait, why had he tried to punch lando?

the sound of the front door opening, then quickly shutting again drew her from her thoughts, a natural panic spreading through her veins.

“hello?” she called out, confused as to who could be walking in the house right now. there was no response for a moment, the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs filled the silence.

“it’s just me, baby,” a voice called out, the childhood nickname letting her know it was lando approaching her bedroom. the name used to be max and lando’s attempt to tease the girl, calling her a baby when she cried after dropping her ice cream. that was when she was 7, but 13 years later, the nickname still stuck. somewhere along the line, the name had turned from mimicking to a term of endearment, blurring the lines of their friendship every time he called out to her.

“oh thank god, i thought you were a murderer,” she joked, her breathing easing as his head poked around the door, eyes meeting hers.

“you thought i was a murderer and chose to shout ‘hello’? brave, or stupid?” lando joked back.

“never let them know your next move,” y/n replied with a shrug, before noticing the way one of lando’s hands remained hidden behind the door, “whatcha got there?” she asked him, the way one would ask a dog who had something they shouldn’t.

“depends, are you gonna be nice to me?” he shot back.

“me? im always nice to you, lan,” an innocent smile built on her face.

“tell that to the scar on my back.”

“tell the scar on your back to get over it, it was 10 years ago,” she snorted as he moved further into the door frame.

“no ice cream for you then,” lando replied, smirking at her as he shrugged.

“you got ice cream?” she asked, eyes widening at him.

“thought you might wanna watch a film and forget about tonight with a flurry.”

“gimme,” y/n said, making grabby hands that would’ve been embarrassing had she not already had the worst night of her life.

“nuh uh, not until you’re nice to m-”

“oh get over here you drama queen,” she groaned at him, patting the spot next to her on the bed. lando would never say no to her, giving in so easily as he climbed under the blanket, an arm falling naturally behind her head as he did.

he began fiddling with the tv remote, scrolling through netflix for something to watch. y/n leant further into his embrace, her head settling lightly on his chest as she looked up at him.

“lan - why didn’t you stay at the club?” she asked quietly, fighting the urge to fiddle with her fingers, nervous at the thought of insinuating that he’d want to spend his evening with her instead.

“clubs are only good when you’re drunk,” lando replied with a shrug, eyes still focused on the tv, “id rather just be the designated driver and still be able to get up for training in the morning.”

his eyes flitted down at her quickly, glad she’d returned her gaze to the screen as if he’d seen her wide eyes staring up at him, lando doubted he’d be able to control himself. what she’d revealed earlier still flew around his brain as he fought desperately to shake away any thoughts of taking her innocence, ruining her for anyone else. god, he felt like a creep.

the two fell into a comfortable silence, both of them appearing to focus on the film playing in front of them. lando’s hand remained tightly around her waist, his hand moving beneath her shirt slightly for his fingers to trace circles into her skin. her head remained on his chest, each breath taking in the lingering smell of his aftershave.

“lan?” she broke the silence again, looking up at him once again.

“yes, baby?” he replied, eyes never straying from the screen.

“what did you mean earlier when you said max had even tried to punch you?”

his head shot down to look at her, feeling himself crumble slightly as her eyes stared widely up at him, her tired voice drawing him further into the trap. he could lie, tell her it was a misunderstanding. or he could tell her the truth, and pray it didn’t destroy his entire friendship with the fewtrell siblings.

“when you told me i wasn’t unlovable earlier, you really meant…” she asked, filling in for his silence. she trailed off at the end of her sentence, unwilling to get her hopes up.

“yeah.. so about that,” he said, trying to regain his confidence. she hit at his chest lightly, pushing herself to sit up and look at his face clearer than ever.

“how long?” she asked him with unwavering eye contact.

“longer than i want to admit,” lando replied, smiling at her awkwardly, “and i understand if you don’t fe-”

“kiss me.”

“wha-”

“you heard me,” she told him before joining their lips apprehensively. it started off slow, both testing the waters before falling into a steady pace. his tongue swiped her bottom lip softly, deepening the kiss as his hand raised to hold her jaw. she stifled a moan, embarrassed at the way her body was reacting to the slightest touch.

“don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he told her, hands dropping to her waist, “come ‘ere.”

lando’s hands settled on her hips, fingers gripping at them slightly to guide her onto his lap. as she settled into the new position, he kissed her again, gentle in the way he pulled her in closer, his free hand disappearing under her shirt to draw circles into her skin once more. her hips instinctively rolled into his at the feeling, and he gripped at her skin harder, a small groan escaping his mouth.

“fuck, keep that up and i won’t be able to stop,” he warned her as she rolled her hips again. his head dropped to her jaw, pressing soft kisses along the skin.

“what if i don’t want this to stop?” she asked him, causing him to pause, looking up at her softly.

“are you sure?” he asking, checking her face for any sign of hesitancy. she nodded at him before speaking.

“there’s no one i trust more.”

with her reassurance, lando flipped the top of them over, trailing kisses down her neck as he hovered above her.

“we’ll go slow,” he told her as he pulled at her t-shirt, tugging the fabric up her torso, “wanted this for so long. gonna take my time with you,” he mumbled, pressing soft kisses to the skin of her stomach. her back arched into him slightly, helping him remove her top fully. y/n felt exposed, more so than usual. had it not been for lando’s large hands snaking up to grab at her breasts, she would’ve used her own to shield her nudity.

“so gorgeous,” he mumbled again, before dipping his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, tongue flicking at it, his fingers tugged at the other. he pushed himself back up, re joining their lips in a sweet kiss.

“gonna make you feel good, alright?” he asked her, watching the way her head nodded at him, “yeah? need you to use your words from now on baby.”

“think you should take your top off now,” she told him, her confidence returning slightly, “seems a bit unfair,” she added, jokingly pointing at her own exposed chest.

“so it is,” he agreed, sitting back on his knees as his hands gripped the bottom of his own t-shirt, lifting it over his head. the material landed on the floor, but y/n couldn’t care less - she was much more focused on the way his muscles looked, a combination of his tan and the soft fairy lights illuminating his features in a way that had her stomach rolling for him.

“oi! my eyes are up here,” he joked, settling himself between her legs. lando’s hands trailed up the exposed skin of her thighs, dragging his fingers slowly. her hips jutted up slightly at the sensation, a satisfied smirking fighting its way onto lando’s face.

“this ok?” he asked her, hands toying with the waistband of her shorts.

“yeah,” she breathed out, anticipation beginning to get the better of her as he began pulling the material away from her heat.

“tell me to stop and i’ll stop,” lando told her, discarding her shorts with his top, before adjusting his gaze to her, “just relax f’me. breathe,” he added, noticing the way her chest had frozen, breath caught in her throat. a finger ran through her folds softly, her hips rolling slightly at the sudden feeling of his rough finger pad circling her clit. his movements stopped for a moment as he moved back up her body, kissing her softly as he gathered her slick along his fingers.

“so wet for me,” he told her, kissing at her jaw, “gonna get you ready for me, ok?”

“please, lan,” she begged, panting slightly as his fingers circled her heat again, pressing into her slightly. it’s not like she hadn’t done this before on herself, which was potentially her downfall the moment he pressed a finger into her, the stretch unexpected. lando’s face pressed into her neck, kissing a trail along the skin as he pumped his finger a few times. he could hear every noise she made for him so clearly, drawing him to push a second finger into her, feeling the way her walls clamped around him.

“im ready, lan, please just fuck me,” she begged him, panting in between her words. he could’ve passed out her words, blood rushing from his brain and straight to his cock. his body pushed back up, standing quickly to remove the rest of his clothes. her hands halted him as they reached out and grabbed at the waist band of his joggers, pulling them down slowly as the pressure of his cock strained against the tight material. he helped her remove them fully, her spare hand adding difficulty as she palmed him through his boxers.

“fuck, angel,” he groaned, careful not to overwhelm her as she pulled at his boxers, tugging them down as she had his joggers. however they soon established his noises were not as overwhelming as the size of his cock - her eyes widening as she came face to face with it, her finger running down the thick vein that travelled his length.

“like what you see?” he joked in attempt to ease her nerves.

“how-? is that gonna fit?” she stuttered, gaze travelling down to her stomach as if she were trying to size herself up.

“im sure we’ll make it work,” he replied, hand reaching to her chin, forcing her to look back up at him, “remember, we can stop whenever.”

she nodded at him, before reaching up, looping her arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. he used the leverage to lay her back down, hovering over her once again as he rested on his forearm. without breaking the kiss, he reached down, guiding his cock through her folds a few times before settling the tip at her entrance.

“you sure?” lando checked again, searching her face for any last minute apprehension.

“are you sure?” she retorted, her smile illuminated by the moons glow, “can’t imagine fucking a virgin is high on your bucket list.”

“you’d be surprised,” he responded, mumbling slightly, his cock throbbed in his hand. he began lowering his hips, pushing into her slowly, low grunts falling from his lips as he disappeared further inside her.

“breathe baby, breathe for me,” he told her, feeling the way her body had tensed, her chest stilling as she inhaled deeply, “feel so good.”

lando waited a moment, watching the way her face softened, his necklace dangling dangerously around her lips. he started moving at a gentle pace, careful to listen to her responses.

“feels good,” she told him, eyes looking into his.

“yeah? ‘my the first person to make you feel good?” he asked, baiting her slightly.

“yes, fuck lan. only you.”

he close to lost it, his brain short circuiting at her words. he began to move faster in her, relishing in the way she moaned his name, her walls contracting around his cock. his hand reached between the two of them, fingers flicking at her clit before drawing pressured circles around her heat.

“faster, lan, please,” y/n begged him, her hand raising to tug at his curls.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else, angel,” he grunted, hips snapping into hers at a brutal pace, his eyes focused on the way her breasts moved in unison with his thrusts.

lando felt his high coming quicker than he could ever remember, feeling the way her grip on his bicep tightened and her breathing became more sporadic letting him know she was close too.

“you wanna cum with me?” he asked her, his tone soft whilst his pace remained rough, his fingers beginning to trace his own name on her clit. it gave him a sense of ownership over her, an invisible trace of him that would linger on her sensitivity forever - and she loved it, whining at the feeling of his skin on hers.

“please, fuck. wanna cum,” she told him, eyes shutting as her head rolled back. lando’s head dropped to her exposed neck, his teeth nipping at the skin before he titled his head further, mouth landing on the flesh of her breast. he’d quickly realised that leaving visible mark on his best friends little sister was potentially not the smartest idea, choosing to nip at the skin of her tit, mouth sucking the flesh into his lips as he did. his raised himself up again, admiring the way blood ran to the surface of her skin, only imagining the way she’d look when a bruise formed on the spot.

“only me?” he asked her, hand moving to grip her jaw, dark eyes locking with hers.

“only you,” she replied in a breathless moan.

“good girl,” he said, feeling the way her hips rolled up into his, heat running through her entire body as her climax washed over her. y/n shook around him lightly, her stomach spasming as she rode out her high, but lando couldn’t stop and admire the view. he pulled out quickly, feeling his own high rising in his cock, both of their eyes glued on the way his cock shot out ropes of cum that landed on her stomach.

“so….” she started, trying to fill the somewhat awkward tension in the room.

“we are so doing that again,” he said with a chuckle and he moved to locate his joggers on the floor.

“oh absolutely,” she replied, laughing with him as the fear of him leaving her washed away, though her eyebrow quirked up at him as he shuffled to the door.

“just grabbing a cloth. gotta get you cleaned up so we can finish the film,” he added with a smile.

minutes later, they were both sat back in the bed, her legs thrown over his lap as one hand grazed the skin of his back lightly, lando’s hand running up and down her thigh in a similar fashion. they sat in a comfortable silence, knowing that eventually they would need to discuss the future of this, the future of them, but for now lando relished in the way her hand continuously stroked at the same spot on his back. the same spot - he internally questioned.

“watcha doing?” he finally asked, curious to her supposed fixation on his left shoulder blade.

“apologising to the scar on your back?” she retorted, circling back to their earlier conversation.

“never apologise for anything ever again,” he mumbled into her hair, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“what if i murdered your entire family?” she piped up.

“i support women’s rights and their wrongs.”

“preach.”

-

✧ inbox/requests are open ✧

[syluss-littlecrow]

night of secrecy

<Sylus x fem!reader>

the extension of Nights of Secrecy card by syluss-littlecrow ♥️

warnings: smut, pwp, unprotected sex, steamy fucking, pussy eating, overstimulation, orgasms for sure, Sylus should be a whole ass warning by himself!, extension scenes for LADS card, canon events (TO ME!!!),

a/n: I'm back!!! At least for now... Also happy new year my little crows. I apologise for the extreme inactivity. Life caught me by the throat and flung me unfortunately not into Sylus's arms 😔🙏🏻 nonetheless, I was the happiest person on earth when we finally, FINALLY, got a spicy card for Sylus!! It was... WOO. definitely needed to extend the in-between scenes because thats what I wanted and y'all are suffering with me. Love you all as always and take care ♥️ also! Please give me a while to go through my inbox!! I'll try to answer your messages as much as I can! 🙏🏻

w/c: 2.8K

“Looks like we’re on the same page on not wanting to waste time.” 

His voice pulled your attention back to him. You watch the way his eyes are pretty much devouring you whole, and you've suddenly forgotten what he tastes like. And obviously, you’re ready to go in for seconds.

Your mind is slowly clouding from the desire seeping into your veins. The intensity of Sylus’s gaze on you suddenly dawn's onto you and you're briefly distracted by the snow pattering against the windows, your gaze grazing the midnight sky with snow looking like glitter, dousing the whole area outside of the warmth you're enveloped in.

Before you realise it, Sylus snaps your attention back to him. 

Your eyes are back on him, and the way he's staring right into you sends you fucking shivers. 

“Don't get distracted at a time like this, kitten.” 

Your hands wrap around his neck and you yank him closer, not missing the way Sylus’s eyes widen for a split second before he’s tasting you again.

God, you taste so fucking good.

The kisses grow deeper and more desperate, just like the first round on the couch, but this time, Sylus wants to make sure he's the one eating you whole. You let soft moans slip out between exchanging tastes, and you hear Sylus take a deep inhale. He’s got his weight pressed onto you, but he's trying not to crush you, and you feel his thick cock pressing hard against the inner of your thigh.

Who's gonna drive who crazy first? 

The silk bedding beneath you only grows warmer, completely taken over the heat both of you are emitting.  

“No looking.” 

His palm blocks your vision, shutting off your sight, the intensity of your other senses slowly setting ablaze. 

His kisses are relentless, sprinkled with soft bites along your bottom lip. His fingers find yours on the bed, tightening your grip, his moans and breathing growing in intensity against your lips. You want to keep this sensation and him in a jar and lock it up forever. 

Sylus lifts his palm off your eyes, knowing he's had his fill for now and knowing that he has you soaked and sticky, he watches you catch your breath, your eyes in a daze. The faint smear of your lipstick on his lips from ruining yours catches your attention. 

Maybe you should wear red lipstick more often.

His eyes are back on you now, his breathing still heavy. Even though the lights are dim and warm, the way you have his cheeks dusted with red all the way to his ears makes your heartbeat accelerate. You've never come this close to seeing the leader of Onychinus look like this.

Your fingers trace below his left eye, and a rush of possessiveness bleeds through your words, barely a whisper. 

“Am I being too greedy…if I want you to keep your eyes only on me?” 

A soft chuckle comes out of Sylus. He catches your wrist before it falls and presses his lips gently against your palm before he locks his eyes with you again

“You've always had that right. Which means you could be even greedier.”

And his lips dive for your cheek, and trails down to your jawline, and down to your neck, setting the patches of skin he kisses ablaze. He bites and sucks, making sure he leaves his mark, hiding his satisfaction whenever he hears you whine his name.

You feel the warmth of his palm slide down your thigh, and it gives you goosebumps. You watch the way he kisses the top of your knee as he lets his fingers trail lower down. 

“Do you want it, kitten?” 

The “yes” that spills out of your lips almost instantaneously draws a smirk from Sylus. He's ready to leave your clothes in pieces. But your palm presses against his bare chest just before he gets a chance to go further, as if stopping him. Sylus pouts slightly, grabbing your thighs once more. 

“You haven't changed your mind, have you? You just said yes?” 

Only when he catches the playful grin you wear that he realises that you're painfully teasing him. Nonetheless, he plays along with you–spoiling you with kisses as he pulls you by your legs closer to him.

“I'm hoping your answer is still yes…”, he mutters, switching his gaze between you and your supple thighs. 

“…because I'm not holding back anymore.”

His fingers hook the waistband of your panties, and he slides it off your legs, his lips curled in a satisfied smile when notices the glistening sheen of your panties. 

He thinks you're so fucking pretty when you're unraveled and wet for him. 

Sylus has his palms pushing your legs apart, his attention now on your soaked pussy, practically inviting him for a taste.

He presses his lips against your pussy lips, his tongue then gliding up and down, brushing against your clit, over and over. You hate how he's so perfectly precise at finding your weakest spots. But then again, you let him into your territory, and that's your problem to enjoy.

Your breathing gradually staggers, your fingers curling against the soft white locks of his hair. Sylus is forcing your hips to stay onto the bed while he fucks you with his tongue. He hears you whimpering his name every time his tongue flicks against your clit, the pleasure shooting up your spine over and over again. 

“S-Sylus..”, you mumble, your pussy pulsating once more when he sucks on your clit. “Gonna cum. Fuck.”

Sylus doesn't directly respond to you, but rather, his fingers that aren't holding your lower body down circles the entrance of your soft pussy, and then he pushes his fingers in. 

You gasp, your body jolts slightly from the pressure. Now you're clawing the bedsheets and your moans pour out of you freely, competing with the squelching and wet sounds coming from your cunt.

His muffled moans vibrate against your cunt, as if beckoning you to just let it all out, and it drives you over the edge topped with his fingers fucking your pussy, long enough to hit your most sensitive spots. 

“Fuck, fuck! Sylus I'm cumming-”, cutting off when your orgasm hits you fucking hard in waves, the pleasure tingling down your spine, your mind in a beautiful, horny mess, only filled with Sylus. 

Only when your body settles down, and your legs snap together by instinct, does Sylus slowly lift his messy lips off you, and his fingers, covered in your cream, staining the red bedding in the process.

He really pulled every single orgasm out of you–you’re left catching your breath, and trying to stop your thighs from shaking.

In a haze, you watch Sylus drop his shirt onto the floor, his fingers unbuttoning his pants impatiently. He slides both apparels off swiftly, letting his thick cock free from the fabric tightness. 

You swallow at the size of him, but at the same time, you just really want him to fuck the thoughts out of you so fucking bad.

Sylus combs his hair back, the red flush on his face growing more obvious. 

Then he's back to distracting you with his kisses down your thighs, slowly going back up to your lips, not forgetting to give your tits a nice squeeze. 

You feel his cock brush against your pussy, drips of his precum mixing into your mess. 

Your fingers stroke his hair as he deepens the kiss. You feel the cold metal of his necklace pressing onto you, and it's definitely heating up. 

His lips hover near your ear.

“Could I, kitten? Please?” It almost comes off as a beg and it tickles you ears so good. 

Honestly you couldn't say no even if you wanted to, you're as hungry for him as he is for you.

You push him away. For a second, Sylus is ready to cease in case you really aren't ready. 

Instead, you slowly spread your legs once more in front of him, the initial shyness replaced by boldness.

“It's all for you Sylus. Didn't you say I could be greedier?” 

Sylus knows he's the luckiest man in the fucking world.

He bends and pushes your legs, almost folding you into half. His cock is lined right at your pussy hole, almost teasing you. But before any words could come out of your mouth, he pushes in, filling you instantly, stretching your hole open. You take a sharp inhale, grasping Sylus’s outstretched hand, and Sylus pauses, waiting for you to adjust, even though he's only half way in.

“You're so fucking tight for me, kitten. I'm only half way in.” 

You squeeze his hand in retaliation, and Sylus is amused by the pout you wear on your face. 

“You're too big..” you mutter. 

Sylus only chuckles, stroking your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. 

He feels you relax, but he watches for your reactions, and when you give him the green light, he stretches you out with the remainder of his length, knocking the wind out of you. He leans in, mostly hovering over you so he doesn't crush you with his weight.

“You gotta let me in, sweetie. You're squeezing me a little too good here”, he teases, his lips trailing down your neck. 

You're practically breathless and filled to the brim. It feels like fucking heaven–squeezing against his cock and hearing Sylus gasp when you tighten around him. 

You catch his lips with your palm when he's about to bite against the skin there.

“No biting here.”

His hands release your thighs at the same time, instead, taking both your wrists above you and holding them down with one hand.

“First you want it rough, now you want it soft. Aren't you a hard one to please tonight, kitten?” 

He opts for kisses instead, and it melts into your skin, once again sending shivers.

“Why won't you be a good girl and tell me what you want you really want kitten?” 

The way he's calling you a good girl with a voice velvet and drizzled in honey sends you shivers. 

“I'm not falling for your tricks…” you mumble. 

Sylus kisses your ear and his low groans whenever he feels you tighten around him.

“Then I'll start moving, kitten.” 

You nod. Unfortunately, your hands are still bound above you, so that's the most you could do. 

When Sylus begins thrusting slowly in and out of you, your mind slowly goes blank. All that's flooding in is how fucking good he feels in you. Your greed grows into a bottomless hole at an exponential speed. His name spills from your lips like a mantra, and you call him over and over again, sometimes getting cut off with a moan when he hits the perfect spot. 

“I love it so much when you call my name, sweetie. It sounds like heaven in my ears.” He's barely able to form his sentence when you squeeze him again, sucking him back into the endless rounds of euphoria. 

“Feels good. Sylus, you feel so good,” you whimper, realising you're letting yourself get lost into his heat. You feel him smile against your skin while he presses more kisses all over your face and neck. He pulls out momentarily, leaving you empty and slightly frustrated. 

The tension builds, and he releases your hands in the midst of his kisses, letting you switch positions–landing yourself above him. 

Your ego swells up slightly when Sylus casts you a suprised expression. But it quickly turns into a smile.

“Ah, so what you wanted was control?” 

His cock is just resting right at your ass and you feel the warm, sticky fluids slide right down to your pussy. 

You watch him lick his lips. 

“Unfortunately, I can't give it to you”, he says. “At least, not yet.” 

His hands glide upwards to the round of your ass, pressing his cock right at your pussy hole. 

You lift your hips slightly, his cock pushing into you the second time, with much less resistance thanks to how wet the both of you got. It still takes your breath away when he fills you up. You swear he's bulging in you. 

Sylus’s warm hands rub circles from your hip to your waist to soothe you, despite the fact that he almost could break just from watch you take his cock right in front of him. 

“That’s my good girl. You're taking all of me so well.”

Your mind is threatening to fall apart from the pleasure once more. It's dizzy and thick, building a thick haze in your mind once more. 

You lift your hips and he pushes you down, his cock filling you up again. 

And soon enough, you're bouncing on his cock. 

His grip on your waist is firm yet tender. He guides your hips, and peppers words of encouragement while he fucks you from below.

“That's it, kitten. Like that. Just for me.”

“Feels good hm? Of course it does. Look at your pretty fucked out face.” 

“Good girl–hng–! you're such a good fucking girl for me.”

You watch the ways his eyebrows knit in pleasure. At times, he’d barely have his eyes open, from the way he's doing everything in his power not to explode in you. Not yet. He wants to be a little more greedier. 

Maybe just a little more. He doesn't want it to end so quickly. 

After all, greed can't be satisfied. Only momentarily. 

Sylus knows that all too well. And god forbid he'd keep you locked up in here with him as long as he wanted. 

Shit. You're taking so much from him and it feels so fucking amazing. 

Your thighs are trembling from riding Sylus. It's too much yet not enough at the same time. His thickness presses against your g-spot endlessly, and Sylus swallows hard when you throw your head back, the sweat trickling down your neck, past your tits, all the way down, while your whole body shakes in sheer pleasure, accompanied by the obscene wet noises. 

“Look at me, kitten.” His voice lures you back to him, like it always does. 

You make eye contact with him, your eyes so pretty and glazed, as if in a spell. Under his spell. 

“How are you feeling?” His finger traces down your chin.

“So full. I’m feeling so full of you”, you manage to reply, lifting your hips, letting Sylus see the full view of the wet, creamy, sticky mess you've made on his cock. You still have the rest of him stuffed deep in you, and you're not lasting any longer. 

Every thrust he pushes into you drives you closer to the edge a second time. 

Sylus groans and bucks his hips when you lower yourself on him once more. At this moment, he realises nothing in this world could be better than this. 

“Feels weird, Sylus”, you mutter, pulling your pussy lips to take more of him in. You're grinding slightly more desperately, the tension builds. Fuck, you're gonna cum again. 

The sounds of skin slapping only grow wetter, thicker and louder. Sylus bites his lip when he feels you go tight on him, his hands now on your ass, taking a handful and guiding you to fucking him.

“Fuck. Feels so good, kitten. You're gonna cum all over me?”

Too delirious, soaked in complete pleasure and begging to chase the high, you nod. 

He listens to you sob and cry when your second orgasm washes over you, fluttering all over his dick. Sylus cups your cheeks and pulls you in for another wet and messy kiss. 

“Cumming too, kitten. Be a good girl and take it all.” 

Unfortunately he doesn't give you a chance to answer, mostly because you have your tongue out for him to devour and he doesn't hesitate. His low moans flood through your ears, his warm and thick cum filling you up so much that it leaks out of you before he pulls out. 

He hears you squeal but the sounds of wet kisses override it, and he still makes you bounce off his cock until he's satisfied with emptying everything in you. 

The air is thick and still for a moment when the both of you pull away, pants filling up the room. 

The both of you have red flushed on your cheeks. His grip on you loosens. Instead you move in for a kiss on his forehead, which takes him by surprise.

In the second, he realises how much he adores you. 

You're his first love, and you'll be his last. 

Your phone pings in the middle of the day, just as you reached home after dropping Sylus off from cleaning up his mission.

There are two messages–one from Sylus and one from…Luke and Kieran? 

The message preview from Sylus stating to call him when you're home safe. But your curiousity is piqued with Luke’s message. Before you could respond, Kieran’s messages pops into the groupchat with the three of you in. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at first, but then you laugh it off.

Luke: Did you know if something happen to boss-man? I've never seen him glow like this before. 

Kieran: holy shit he actually smiled and greeted us when he came in 🤔 is the world ending? 

[melminli]

Love To Dream

summary - there was this one girl that thanos really wanted, though, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him. unfortunately, that made him want her even more.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: modern au, mention of drugs, enemies to lovers vibes ig, crack, yearning

a/n: i don't even know what this is tbh but I felt like we all deserved some laughs ;)

Life was good - life was really fucking good, Thanos thought to himself as he winked charmingly at a group of hot girls. They had been looking in his direction for a while now while giggling, clearly interested in him. He continued to watch them as he sipped his drink, music pumping through his veins like adrenaline. Thanos's eyes darkened as the girls continued to cast lustful glances in his direction - he knew he could easily get more than one of them into bed tonight and why wouldn't he? It hadn't been long since his last performance on stage, reminding everyone present once again of his legendary status in this club.

However, his attention was focused somewhere entirely else after the most breathtaking person ever decided to walk past him. The pick-up lines he had been thinking of for the group, vanished from his mind after this angel showed up in front of him since the other girls could barely compare. The whole thing looked like something out of a scene from a Kdrama because time seemed to pass in slow motion and your hair was swinging in the air like that of a princess - which would have been the perfect time for some product placement because it just looked so damn soft.

Thanos had his mouth wide open in shock and put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating while his eyes never left your figure. You - who was leaning prettily against the bar right next to him as you ordered something from the bartender.

“Hey.” he finally recovered from the moment and casually moved towards you. “I'd introduce myself, but I assume you already know me.” he talked to you with his flirty face as soon as you looked up at him.

You smiled shyly. “Yeah, I watched your performance,” you answered him and seemed quite grateful that he was speaking to you right now. “You were pretty good.” you giggled slightly as you complimented him.

“Yeah, that's just how I am.” he sighed as he looked around the room as if it was a burden for him to have to live with all the recognition. His eyes met yours again and he tried to impress you by unpacking a few bars while emphasizing them with the movements of his hands. “Girl, I know you and I are meant to be because after I looked at your pretty face everything stopped being. If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately.” he rapped to you, stealing the last line from some One Direction song, but you didn't need to know that.

You shyly put your hands in front of your face to hide your smile. “Oh my god, that was so incredibly sexy, I'm so horny for you right now.” the words came out of your mouth and made Thanos screw up his face weirdly for a second.

Because first of all, those vulgar words didn't match your innocent demeanor in the slightest - and secondly, you said exactly what Thanos had imagined you would say - it was actually a bit creepy since you literally said it word for word. Thanos hardly thought that he could foresee the future all of a sudden or that you could maybe read minds, though he decided to ignore the whole thing as soon as you started touching his chest softly with your hands. He wanted you so bad.

“You don't even know what you're doing to me right now,” he whispered to you while you felt him so sensually and he was about to kiss you, hadn't you stopped his lips with your hand as you laughed into his face. “I think you should wake up now. Otherwise, the pink elephant will keep handing out balloons to people.” You told him, pointing behind him to where the bar was supposed to be.

“Hah?” he asked you confused and turned around while continuing to hold you in his arms, but all he saw were a few dogs breakdancing - and that was nothing out of the ordinary. He continued to look at the scene with a grin, even though some inner voice inside him was stressing out about kissing you immediately as if he was running out of time. He finally turned back to you and was about to continue when he suddenly heard a man speak. “You really should wake up man.” Nam-gyu's voice told him and Thanos only caught himself almost kissing him after he took a closer look. He just pushed him away from him in disgust and then -

Thanos woke up from his sleep, bathed in sweat, when he saw your face in his field of vision. “Finally, you're sleeping like a dead man. There's some guy at the door who wants to talk to you,” you told him as he sat up tiredly while slowly recovering from his strange dream.

That's right. You weren't just some hot girl he met at the club, you were his fucking roommate. Thanos discreetly pushed more blanket over his lap as he tried to shoo you away from his room with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah - I'll be right there, just - give me a moment,” he said without looking you in the face.

You just sighed slightly and complied with his request, though not without letting him know how unhappy you were. “I told you to stop giving our address to these dealers. I don't like it when they show up here,” you grumbled under your breath before dashing out and closing the door behind you.

After that, Thanos let out a very heavy sigh and stroked his face aggressively. “Now she's showing up in my dreams, too? Fucking great.” he grumbled to himself and got up from the bed to put on some decent clothes. His eyes met his own reflection as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Get a grip man, what's wrong with you?” he asked himself as he grimaced in annoyance. “You're Thanos the destroyer, not some kind of -”

“Stop taking so long and come here already!” your voice suddenly shouted, coming through his door slightly muffled.

He looked even more annoyed at that and made his way to the living room while shouting back at you. “I'm fucking on it, alright!” and it only took a few loud steps from him to your front door for him to yank it open to fix the damn problem. He looked at his friend, completely bothered by his presence. “What do you want?” he asked him and was kinda glad that it at least wasn't Nam-gyu because he just really didn't want to see his face at the moment and probably for a little while.

“Hello, to you, too.” the man in front of him greeted him, already used to his weird mood swings. “I just wanted to do you a favor by bringing you some of the pills you wanted because last time you almost beat me up when I didn't have them with me,” he explained, holding the bag, which Thanos grabbed instantly before inspecting it more closely. “Don't act like you didn't deserve it, I paid you the money in advance, man. Of course, I was angry,” he complained again and would probably have beaten him up for real right now if he had ruined his morning over something completely unnecessary. However, he would still have to make sure that something like this didn't happen again so that you didn't have another reason to kick him out of the apartment.

“You know, maybe this was meant to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been greeted by an absolute hottie today,” he said happily as he stood there, still interested. “Is she your cousin or something? Do you want to introduce me to her?” he asked and was quite confident in the way he acted, but Thanos just looked at him emotionlessly for a few seconds until he slammed the door in his face.

"Okay, he's gone now!" he exclaimed, bored, and made his way into the kitchen, where you were sitting with a cup of coffee or something while scrolling on your phone. "Don't open the door for that guy if he shows up again," he said, grabbing a cold Sprite from the fridge. You just looked at him with a displeased look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure that he and no one else shows up after today. But, I'm just saying that in case it still somehow happens."

Thanos then opened the can and drank from it while he continued to watch your face from the side. Eventually, he sat down next to you, although, to his dissatisfaction, that didn't seem to get your attention. "Hey, you want to go on a date?" He asked, and you weren't sure how many times he asked you that by now. You kept scrolling on Instagram. "You know my answer to that."

Thanos continued to grin hopefully. "Yes?" he asked and then watched you disappear out of the kitchen with your cup of coffee in your hand - probably to your room. "You should be glad that I'm even asking you! Other girls would die for..." he muffled towards the end before he stopped talking entirely once he realized that you weren't giving him a reaction.

Maybe, I should just go back to sleep, he thought to himself dejectedly, unable to believe that he had actually better chances with you in dreams with pink elephants and breakdancing dogs.

[pearlymel]

A baby ?!

Summery: his departure always bugs you, and surprise, it was just your lil hormones messing with you.

Wc: 3.4k

Warnings: Fem!reader, sfw because we decided to be sweet, pregnancy, reader is pregnant, there are some suggestive comments but that's all. Happy ending because i love yall.

Part one and two if you missed it my loves.

Notes: welcome to part 3 which i believe is the last part. I am kindly asking not to ask for a part 4 because i have run out of ideas. If i ever decided to write for capitano again, it wouldn't be part of this series, it would be like headcanons instead, you could imagine the reader being the same, apologies for spelling errors and thank you. :)

Credits: the art of the left panel is by @/reaperpie

Fall was slowly approaching in Snezhnaya, and you had already expected it to be colder than the normal autumn. Which to your bad luck, it was not a suitable place for your picnic’s.

Your husband has continuesly rejected your date ideas, but you expected that anyway, you knew he couldn’t. He had duties to attend to, responsibilities to the Fatui, to the Tsaritsa, to the world. He couldn’t stay, as much as you—he wanted to.

It's not fair, You think while pouting as you stare outside the window with your chin resting on the palm of your hand, looking like a princess in need to be rescued from the tower. Your thumb toying with the diamond ring resting around your ring finger.

“Ugh, it's unfair baby.” You slump back on the bed, while your little fur baby only meowed at you in return, the orange cat jumping on the bed to make itself warm on your lap. “meow back if he doesn't love me.”

You're met with silence, only happy purrs reach your ears, and you grin, “obviously he loves me, obsessed even.” Your hand reaches to slowly pat the kitty.

“I miss him.” You sigh dreamily, deciding to stand up while carrying kitty with you so it doesn't feel left out. You make your way towards the desk in the corner, pulling the seat to take your place before pushing yourself closer to the desk.

You rest the kitten on your lap again—who quickly adjusts like nothing happened, looking as sleepy as ever.

You open the drawers to take an envelope, some wax, a stamp, a paper, and a quill.

Yeah, you're going to write him a letter, he said he didn't mind recieving even hundreds of letters from you.

How romantic.

“Dear, husband.” You start, dipping the quill in ink to brush it along the neat surface of the paper.

“i miss you.” you narrow your eyes at the empty page, saying that you miss him felt too boring.

“i utterly miss being next to you.” Hm, it lacks excitement.

“Please come back soon or i will run away.” Huh, you could already imagine the army's he would send to search for you.

“i want you inside—” okay, now you're being desperate.

You rest your arms on the desk, leaning your head on them while sighing.

—

“Do you know when will he return?” You politely ask one of the guards in front of the estate’s gate. Your hands together behind your back.

A leaf flew by in front of the guards with still no answer from them, and you narrow your eyes, wondering if they even heard you in the first place.

Finally, one of them shook their head and you only sigh in resignation, “thank you.” You mumble before heading your way back inside the estate.

It has been more than two weeks since he left, and he would sometimes send you neat letters to inform you about his well being, but the last letter you received was about a week ago, it was worrying you.

“My lady, are you okay?” Your personal maid, Marina, asked out of concern, watching you put an apron with a frown plastered on your face.

“Just hungry.” You take the glassy bowl, eggs, flour, butter, and sugar. Then you set them on the table. “I can help you.” Marina stands next to you, taking the butter to melt it.

“you want to make cookies, correct?” She asks, and you nod with a small smile. With the butter fully melted, you begin mixing in the sugar, beating the mixture until it becomes light and fluffy. The repetitive motion of stirring is almost meditative, and for a brief moment. “Baking is rather calming, i should've tried it before.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, a knowing smile on her face. "Yes, baking can be quite therapeutic," she stated, watching as you mixed the sugar and butter together. "I've found that working with your hands, especially when it involves creating something good to eat, is a great way to clear your mind," she continued, adding chocolate to the bowl.

You had both finished combining the ingredients, and the room was now filled with the warm, comforting fragrance of cookie dough. Marina stood beside you, watching as you shaped the dough into small balls and placed them on a baking tray. As you finished placing the last cookie onto the tray, you and Marina stood together, admiring the array of small, round cookies waiting to be baked in the oven.

The sounds of the gates opening is what catches your attention next, making you stand up from your chair to immediately abandon the kitchen and rush towards the entrance, your eyes searches him when you reach the front door, and surely enough, your husband has arrived.

He looked almost disheveled, tired, yet he still held a straight posture.

Capitano's weary eyes widened behind his helmet as you rushed into his arms, his body stiffening as if caught off guard by your sudden affection. But the tension in his form swiftly melted away as he wrapped his strong arms around you. His grip was tight, as he pulled you against his body. He was silent for a moment, his chin resting on the top of your head, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he held you.

“I…” you want to break the silence, you want to tell him how much you missed him. “I missed you.”

Capitano's grip intensified as your voice reached his ears, he was more than relieved to hear those words. To know that somone dear is waiting for him, someone as precious as you that he's willing to risk his life for.

He exhaled deeply, "I missed you too," he whispered, making sure the words only reached your ears. He pulled back slightly to look down at you, his gaze raking over you as if to confirm you were real and not a trick of his tired mind.

Capitano allowed you to lead him inside afterwards, his hand careful to be gentle when holding yours. The weariness in his body was evident as he stumbled a bit as you pulled him along. However, he matched your pace as best he could, following obediently as you guided him to your chambers.

Being greeted by the familiar room before him made his shoulders relax, the only place where he can be himself.

"How was is it? Being away from your wife for more than two weeks?" You ask while your hands started working on helping him out of the thick layers of his heavy, dirty clothing. Each layer you removed revealed more of his muscular, battle-worn physique, the scars and marks on his body a testament to the dangers he had faced.

He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he noticed your pout. He reached out a calloused hand and gently tugged at your lip, "It was a long two weeks," he admitted gruffly. "I have missed you sorely.”

“I'm sure you did,” you hummed, walking towards the closest to grab a sweater for him. "Don't pout like that," he chided gently, "You're making me feel guilty.”

You try hiding your smile when you hand him his new warm clothes, your arms crossing next, “as you should.”

"I've missed that pout," his lowers his voice, "but I don't miss your little attitude.”

You shrug, “i don't know what you're talking about.” Capitano's gaze held yours unflinchingly, his eyes studying your expression. He knew you were baiting him, daring him to guess your reason for being upset.

"Let me see.." he started, his voice taking on a tone of mock contemplation. "Perhaps it's the fact that I was gone for more than two weeks and left you here all alone. That's a start, is it not?”

“maybe.”

"Or perhaps it's the fact that I didn't send you a letter everyday and left you wondering about whether I was alright or not. Hmm, that could be it, couldn't it?”

“Go on.” your raise your eyebrow while tapping your feet impatiently.

"Or maybe," he stepped closer, taking a few strands of your hair in between his fingers, "It's because I didn't come home and ravish you as soon as I returned, instead letting you pout and sulk and complain like a spoiled little thing.”

He could see right through you; the way you suddenly straightened your stance and tried to act nonchalant only confirmed his suspicions.

You gasp, ”whaaaat? Nonsense.”

"Is that so?" he drawled, his hands now taking your upper arms, his thumb thumbs rubbing circles around your skin "i will make it up to you, my wife.”

Despite his promise that you could do later, you wanted him to rest more than anything, so you make him sit down on the bed while you leave to get the cookies you baked together with Marina.

“You have to tell me your opinion.” you hand him one of the chocolate chip cookies. Capitano let the taste of the chocolate chips and the buttery cookie dough settle on his tongue for a moment. He swallowed, his gaze still fixed on you, before giving his verdict.

"They're good," he admitted, "Better than good, actually. Well done.”

Praise kink goes crazy huh? Your smile widens, and it makes you feel all giddy, as you took a bite of the cookies as well.

He leaned back against the plush bedding of the bed, his strong arms resting on his lap as he observed you. "You've been busy while I was away, hm?"

“Not really, more bored than busy.”

“… i am sorry. I do not mean to leave you alone.”

You scoot closer to him once you see how guilty he looks, you sit next to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “When do you have to leave again?”

Capitano's silence spoke volumes, pausing before answering, "My duties are unpredictable, and there's no telling when the Tsaritsa will call for me again. I cannot give you an exact timeline, and that is the reality of what I do. I am a warrior first, a husband second.”

Ouch, that's fine. Totally fine.

You knew what you were getting into when you married him, after all. Still, a part of you couldn't help but wish for more. The thought kind of makes you sick… quite literally.

“I think the cookies had too much sugar.” You put the dessert back on the plate before standing up from the bed. “Shall i go get you wate—”

“no, thank you. I can do it.”

—

You were rotting in bed. From the morning, and now it's afternoon. It makes you feel useless since you barely did anything.

Capitano left before you woke up, even though he promised to return later today.

You felt miserable, your body weak and your spirits low. It was a mixture of loneliness, hormones, and the unease bubbling in your stomach. Capitano's absence only made it worse, adding to the feeling of helplessness that had settled upon you.

You tossed and turned in the bed, the plush sheets tangling up around you as you tried to find a comfortable position. But no matter how much you shifted, the discomfort in your stomach remained, persistent and nagging.

“Make the pain go please, I'll take any disgusting medicine,” you tell Marina weakly as you look up at her while she sat on the wooden stool next to you.

"I can give you some ginger root. It might help soothe your stomach.” she offered gently, handing you the ginger root she prepared just for you.

“… i lied i can't take anything disgusting.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, "I thought so," she said, setting aside the ginger root. “Have you considered telling Lord Capitano?”

You shake your head, “not that he's here. It's not that important.” you cover half of your face with the blanket, “why though? Isn't it just a normal cold from the change of weather?”

It was clear that you were trying to downplay the severity of your symptoms, perhaps not wanting to worry anyone or admit that something might be seriously wrong.

"Dearest, it's not just a cold," she chided gently, "the symptoms you're describing are not typical of a mere cold.”

You frown, “is it not?”

She shook her head, her voice soft but serious. "No, it's not. The nausea, the fatigue, the changes in appetite...these are all common symptoms of something else." Shee paused for a moment, "my lady, have you considered the possibility that you might be... Pregnant?”

You immediately rise from the bed, sitting down with eyes wide to stare at her, "what? Pregnant?” you ask in shock.

"I shall ask for a healer right away, my lady.”

—

You stare outside the window at the dark skies, although your eyes fixated on the gates opening, indicating his arrival.

You almost flinch when he dashes inside your shared chambers, taking his helmet off but not bothering to take the rest off before he's gently grabbing you by your arms.

“where?” He asks urgently, “where are you injured? Who did it? Do not hesitate to tell me.” He says in a dangerously sharp tone, his eyes searching for even a single scratch on your body.

“what… are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow, and your unbothered state made him confused. “the healers were here, yet you're not injured?” he blinked before sighing, his hands caressing your arms instead, “then why? Are you sick?”

“Sick… no not sick.” You tell him, your hands ever so gentle taking a hold of his face, “… but pregnant. I'm pregnant.”

You both stare at eachother, both of you holding your breaths. You have never seen him so distracted, like he didn't hear you the first time.

Does he hate it? You never thought of the possibility.

“Capit—” before you could continue, he's down in one knee and you're bewildered, unsure of what to do.

“you're carrying our child.” he utters out so softly that you think you might tear up—and you really are in the verge of tears. He takes your hand, he's held your hand many times, but this time it feels different, he holds you like you're glass, he's so careful with it.

“I swear to protect you both, and put you both first. Should anyone hurt you, i will not hesitate to draw my sword, if i ever hurt you… then you should not hesitate to draw your sword on me.” his words hung in the air like a sacred vow.

You tried to speak, to respond, but only a soft gasp escaped your lips. Tears welled in your eyes, and you could only stare at him, utterly overwhelmed.

Capitano's gaze softened even more as he saw the tears falling down your face. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his hand still holding yours in a gentle but firm grip, he reached out with the other hand, his large palm cupping your cheek to brush your tears away. “Don't cry, I'm here.”

His embrace, so warm, so protective around you that it eases every single thought in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. With him, it will.

—

Months passed in a blur of morning sickness, cravings, and blossoming excitement for the new life growing inside you. Capitano, as promised, was by your side through it all and he went away for more than a week.

He attended to your every need, from getting up in the middle of the night to find the most ridiculous late-night snack, to comforting you on days when you felt overwhelmed by the changes happening to your body.

You rest back against the bed’s headboard while tracing random shapes on the skin of your swollen belly, a hum of some sort of song followed after. You stop once you hear the sound of slow footsteps, catching your husband freeze.

“I'm sorry, i didn't mean to stalk you like that—”

“you're so silly. Come here, honey.” You pat on your empty side with a smile, inviting him to share this moment you.

Capitano took his place next to you then continued watching as you gently caressed your belly, tracing over the stretch marks with your fingers.

“They're beautiful, you know.” he speaks first, as if sensing what you were about to say. “Beautiful?” You repeat. He lifted your hand to his lips, gently pressing a kiss on your knuckles before he replied, his voice a soft murmur. "Yes, beautiful. They're a sign of life growing within you. A sign of strength. Of creation. That's beautiful.” he continues his trail of kisses to your arm up to your shoulder, “I want to kiss every inch of you, stretch mark or not.”

You've come so far with him that it feels surreal, it feels right, “i love you.” You whisper to him, turning your attention to him again. “I love you.” he doesn't hesitate to say it back, the declaration coming out of his tongue smoothly like it was meant to be.

His hand then moved to your growing bump, "and I love this," he added. “This?” You giggle.

"Mhm," Capitano confirmed, his hand now rubbing your belly in slow, soothing circles. "This. Our baby." His eyes flickered up to yours, "We created this," he continued, his voice with pride and awe. "Our love made this.”

Love.

—

Were toddlers always this fast? Because one second he keeps an eye on her then the next he looks around before she's gone right from infront of him.

He was supposed to play tea party, but a little butterfly flying creature must've caught her attention.

Capitano, despite his size and strength, found himself struggling to keep up with your energetic three-year-old daughter.

He chuckled as he chased her around the garden, his large frame a stark contrast to her small, fleeting form. As she ran past you, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of your husband's face, "almost got her," he panted out, his hand on his knee as he attempted to catch his breath.

“You got this old man!” You decide to tease him from behind, laughing endlessly from the sight. Though he shot you a mock glare through his labored breaths, “old man, huh?" he grumbled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I'm old now, do you?" he continued, raising an eyebrow playfully. "I'll show you 'old,' darling." With that, he took a step further to sweep you off your feet, carrying you effortlessly in his arms, and your smile only widens.

“Me!” Your little girl raises both of her arms at her father, and he kneels down to carry her in his other arm. Now carrying you both in each arm.

“Oh, how strong.” You tease, poking at his bicep and he shakes his head almost shyly, “papa, butterfly.” Your daughter proceeds to show you both the butterfly she caught, the little creature doesn't seem scared of her as it rests on her tiny fingers.

“Looks pretty,” Capitano smiled, his expression amused as your daughter leaned toward the butterfly, attempting to kiss it. "Careful now," he warned gently. "Don't scare it away." He watched as the butterfly fluttered its delicate wings at her attempt and she giggles.

"You have to be gentle," he told her, his voice soft. "Just like how you handle the kittens.”

She gasps, suddenly remembering the cat that's half asleep on the grass with the three of you. “Kitty!” She shouts at the cat, jumping off Capitano’s arm so suddenly that it makes him gasp, worried that she might’ve injured herself.

“she's fine.” You pat your husband's chest and just like that, he's relaxed again. “i think our cat is tired of her sometimes.” You get down as well, watching how your daughter carried the lazy cat in her arms to run in circles with her. The cat that grew within these years, from a mere kitten to a big cat now.

"I think we should just be glad the cat hasn't hissed at her or swatted her yet," he sighed, and you hum in reply, “i don't think it ever will. That cat has been clinging to my belly ever since i was pregnant. Kept me warm i must admit.”

You grin when your daughter runs back to both of you, carrying the cat in the air, it's eyes almost closed, unbothered, "meow."

Tags: @duchessofherself @itsjustnikkixoxo @erasme143 @yvesswoo @mooshbb @bigboygoose

[draconic-desire]

🔶 Rex Dracorum 🔶

Yandere Zhongli x Reader

At this year’s Lantern Rite, you happen to cross paths with a dragon, much to the chagrin of the one who holds you in the palm of his hand. The result has you trapped between them.

Warnings: Very brief mention of nsfw at the end, implied kidnapping, forced relationship, yandere behavior. Basically my version of what would have happened if Zhongli and Neuvillette actually met at the Rite…

Despite the contract irrevocably binding you to the Lord of Geo, its progenitor allows you a surprising number of freedoms.

Sometimes, you can pretend like he didn’t steal your life away with a simple signature. That he didn’t back you into a corner, making you decide between two evils: to be his wife and mate, or watch as everything and everyone you ever cherished suffer the wrath of the rock.

Why me?, you would plead aloud, desperate for any loophole, any escape from your contract. Why a mortal geologist with only a few mora to her name?

You’re one of the few who appreciates the rock over the gem, my precious lapis, he’d reply cryptically. Always riddles and non-answers, layered statements garnished with polished words.

If you could reverse time, you would have refused his invitation for tea that first time. Little did you know that each of those subsequent meetings, each time you spent listening to his fantastical tales shared between steaming cups, you were digging your grave a foot deeper, his hold on you constricting an inch further.

Perhaps if you had rejected him outright, he would have viewed you not as a unique mineral, but as another insignificant pebble in a sea of endless, colorless sediment. As no more than the dirt beneath his boot.

Instead, you must seek refuge from him and his stifling, suffocating presence in the times between the cracks, like now, as you take in the transformed Liyue Harbor, adorned with lights and colors brighter than any precious stone.

Hailing from Liyue, the Lantern Rite has always been a time of celebration and reflection for you and your family. Now it represents one of the only times the invisible shackles are lifted from your frame.

Although Zhongli does initially insist on walking you through the harbor, arms interlocked as he parades you around while monologuing about Liyue’s rich history, he permits you to venture off on your own and explore while he entertains his associates or work clients during the day. Although you know there are constantly eyes on you, usually a certain grumbling yaksha, this precious time almost feels like normal.

Today, you’ve decided on a stroll through Qiaoyang Village. The quiet, leisurely existence that its inhabitants have adopted fills you with a rare tranquility. Walking at a slow pace among the many street vendors, the scent of tea leaves, fresh mint and spices, permeates your nose, beckoning you forward. Your tea stocks at home are getting a bit low, you mentally remark, and having some of your own gives you an excuse to occasionally opt out of the times Zhongli wants to drag you out again.

Your mind set, you turn to find yourself a fraction of a second from running straight into a wall of boxes.

No—looking down, you spot a pair of black and gold boots, leading up to black trousers and elegant blue robes. A pair of matching gloves holds the boxes in place. There’s actually a person carrying all of those parcels.

Due to the boxes obscuring their view, they notice you too late—with startlingly quick reflexes, they manage to avoid running into you, but given their sudden halt mid-step, the boxes in their arms go toppling to the ground.

You gasp at your stupidity and immediately drop to your knees to maintain the stranger’s fallen goods. Embarrassed at your carelessness, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t see you—”

A gloved hand rests on your own scrambling fingers, calming your frantic attempt to organize the items. “No apologies necessary. I am the one at fault for not being more alert.”

Turning to face the stranger, who is now crouching beside you, the air in your lungs extinguishes as your eyes lock.

Undoubtedly, this man is one of the most handsome individuals you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Long, silver hair cascades around his sharp, defined features: almond eyes with striking lilac irises, high cheekbones and full lips, a tall, muscular frame clearly sculpted with subtle muscle. His attire—sapphire robes, adorned with lighter accents and intricate whirls of ocean blues—is clearly of expensive taste and sophistication. The jabot and dewdrop pendant around his neck suggest he’s Fontainian, perhaps associated with the court there.

You must look like a gaping fish out of water, for the man helps you to your feet with a kind smile. “I must have given you quite the startle. Are you feeling alright?”

His deep baritone rings through you, similar yet so unlike the proud voice of the Geo Archon you’ve grown accustomed to. Blinking twice, you regain your bearings and pray to the Seven—excluding one in particular, who would be very unhappy with you—that the man didn’t notice you gawking at him. “Ah, yes, I’m fine. Again, I’m very sorry for being so distracted. If any of your items are damaged, I’m more than happy to pay for replacements.”

“That is quite generous of you, but I can assure you that won’t be necessary. You see, these boxes merely contain tea, nothing more.” To prove his claim, he bends down to retrieve a box that opened when it landed, revealing simple, sealed bags of leaves.

Your shoulders sag in relief. It truly seems like no damage was done. “Well, at least let me help you wrap them up together. I know a trick that will make carrying them all much easier.”

The white-haired male nods, followed by a subtle smile. “That’s very kind of you. I accept your proposal.”

After a quick stop at another stall to buy twine, you start to work on binding the boxes together. You count more than ten in total—who needs that much tea, anyway? The amount of it is almost comical, but you can’t bring yourself to actually poke fun of the man. Not when he’s looking at you with such an endearing smile. Like he’s seeing you, not just the wife of the Lord of Geo.

Your face heats. “So,” you start, trying to focus on your knots and ties and not the stranger’s eyes boring into you, “can I ask why you’re carrying so much tea?”

“Well, I originally was transporting some goods back to Fontaine for my friends and colleagues, but I decided to partake myself. It was buy ten boxes get half off,” he replies, as calmly as if he were stating an obvious fact.

You can’t help it. A giggle escapes your lips as you quirk your head to the side. The innocence with which this man admitted to being scammed endears you greatly, and you can’t help but play along with him. “You know, that’s a pretty good deal.”

He smiles, then, a subtle thing paired with a tinge of pink along his cheeks. “I thought so, too.”

Your smile grows in tandem. Speaking to others, especially other men, without your husband hovering above the conversation is quite rare for you these days—though you have no doubt you’ll be questioned about it later once Xiao reports the encounter to him, if he hasn’t already—

A hand rests on your shoulder, the landing a bit too heavy and the grip a bit too tight. “Ah, my beautiful wife. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The sound of Zhongli’s voice sends a jump through your bones. Archons, you knew you were being followed, but you’ve never been located and corralled this quickly. A flame of indignation, which has long since dimmed from an inferno to a mere flicker, sparks in your chest. You’re rightly upset that your time has been cut short, and even before you learned this interesting and undeniably attractive foreigner’s name.

You look up at Zhongli and open your mouth to explain the situation, that you were merely helping the other man secure his absurd amount of tea boxes, but the words die in your throat.

The Lord of Geo’s amber gaze is sharp and deadly as stone, directed at the other man. His jaw tightens and he grinds out, “Neuvillette.”

The silver-haired man’s eyes narrow as his gaze roams from the hand on your shoulder to meet Zhongli’s glower. “Rex.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance back and forth between the two men who look two moments away from ripping each other to ribbons. It’s obvious they know each other, and the name Neuvillette rings a bell of recognition in your mind. But what really concerns you is the term by which Neuvillette called Zhongli. To your knowledge, no one refers to your captor as Rex Lapis except Xiao, who knows of his draconic—

Oh. Oh.

The realization slams into you with a wave of clarity as your head slowly turns toward the other man. The silver, slitted pupils, the shimmering blue horns and pointed ears, the aura of power and hydro around him…

Horrified, your mouth falls open as you truly take in this man, Neuvillette.

No, not a man. The restored leader of Fontaine, the Hydro Sovereign.

You’ve been casually conversing with not only a dragon, but also the Chief Justice of the Region of Justice. One of the original powerhouses of Teyvat, from which the Seven gained their gnoses. And, given the death of the Hydro Archon, there is currently only one in existence restored to their full power.

“Shit,” you breathe, a bit too loudly. Purple and gold irises snap to you in sync, one filled with thinly veiled concern and questioning and the other with building anger and possession.

On cue, Zhongli snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you taut against his side. You swear you feel the hint of claws digging into your skin through the fabric of your dress, the remnants of his exuvia form.

“I had hoped to avoid meeting you here,” Zhongli states, eyes roaming over the scene, the scattered tea boxes, the twine in your hand, as he pieces together the situation, “but my wife is too kind for her own good sometimes.”

Neuvillette’s eyes browse over your form, examining your tense muscles and downtrodden eyes, the arms that remain at your sides. He’s seen cases just like this time and time again in court, but even so, it doesn’t take a legal profession to ascertain that you’re not particularly fond of your husband. And given Morax’s propensity for contracts, Neuvillette’s senses immediately go on alert.

The Chief Justice clears his throat. “Not at all. I think it quite generous of her to have dedicated her time to making my travels easier.” He tries to give you a reassuring smile, but you’re too focused on Zhongli who, despite his collected demeanor, you realize is a thread away from snapping.

Just what kind of battle between dragons have you gotten yourself into the middle of?

“Is that so? Perhaps she took pity on an old man such as yourself. I hear it can be difficult to carry so much after you’ve departed from your prime.”

“Old man?” Neuvillette barks a laugh, but quickly coughs and regains his composure. “Quite ironic coming from you, Rex. Besides, I feel quite reinvigorated these days. One can only assume it’s due to the balances of power returning to their rightful due.”

Zhongli flashes a hint of his canines, the only giveaway to his building rage. “Rightful is quite a biased term. We wouldn’t want to start a war now, would we?”

Neuvillette’s eyes glint like a sword ready for battle. “And you would know quite a bit about inciting wars, wouldn’t you, Rex?”

Dear Archons, you need to stop this before these two lunge at each other’s throats.

“Zhongli,” you try to placate with a soft voice, the name and tone you know he so adores from you, “I believe that Neu—uh, the Chief Justice was on his way back to Fontaine. I only wanted to help him wrap up his purchases correctly for the journey. If we assist him together, then we can head to the Pavilion for tea after, yes?” Part of you is disgusted at yourself for having to grovel, but you can’t allow two immensely powerful draconic beings to brawl over tea in the middle of the village.

Though you have an strong inkling that the argument isn’t over tea.

Your suggestion lands. Zhongli’s muscles relax as he peers down at you, those immovable, amber eyes softening slightly as he drinks you in. The roaming hands across your back and waist, however, hint that you’ll be getting an earful in private. Though of the likely punishments he has in store for you, that’s the least of your worries.

With a single snap of his fingers, Zhongli uses the power of geo to bind Neuvillette’s parcels together. “There. Consider the issue resolved. My wife and I have matters to attend to.”

Zhongli quickly begins to pull you away, and you think you hear a growl over your shoulder from Neuvillette’s direction. “Careful, Rex. I would be most displeased to have to take one of your contracts to court. In the face of the law, they aren’t as omnipotent as you believe them to be.”

You wince, the statement hitting a bit too close to home. Zhongli, on the other hand, goes as still as stone. “That sounds awfully like a threat, Neuvillette.”

“A mere warning. It is of your own fault to read too deeply into it.”

Neuvillette then turns his attention to you, placing a single tea box into your shaking hands. You have no clue when he separated it from the rest.

Leaning in, his voice drops, low enough to be directed to you, yet you know Zhongli hears it clearly. “You are more than welcome to Fontaine. I will see to your accommodations personally, if you so choose to visit. I believe a spirit like yours would be greatly appreciated in our nation.”

All you can do is shake your head forlornly. Never in a million lifetimes will Zhongli allow it, not even before this encounter. You’ll have to settle for seeing Fontaine through your dreams alone.

Straightening with a frown but understanding the position you must be in, of the contract that binds you to the Geo Archon, Neuvillette lets the matter drop. He turns to leave, but not before throwing over his shoulder, “And her name isn’t wife, Rex. It’s…”

You swallow thickly. “(Y/n),” you finish, a mere breath.

Neuvillette gives you a final smile in return. “My offer will always stand, (Y/n). Happy Lantern Rite.”

Moments after he’s out of sight, Zhongli dips his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and rubbing his over your skin. “You stink of that other male…but I know how to amend that.”

Needless to say, you did not make it to tea that afternoon.

It wasn’t until that night when Zhongli was asleep, clawed limbs and scaly tail entangled with your naked form, that you deem it safe to open the tea box Neuvillette gifted to you.

Core pounding, you grimace as you stand, the many possessive and claiming bite marks and bruises across your skin even worse than usual. He didn’t lie about wiping any scent of the other dragon away, if the past few hours of nonstop sex were any indication.

You make your way to the kitchen trash, where Zhongli had immediately disposed of it upon arriving home. Heart pounding, you lift the lid.

A shimmering blue vision reflects in your pupils.

[fireinmoonshot]

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader (Twisters) Summary: You're a new addition to the Storm Par team and Tyler finds himself fascinated with you from the very beginning.

It’s been a long and stressful day, so you assume that the group of tornado wranglers hanging about the large red truck by the stairs are feeling the same way as you – exhausted – and will let you head upstairs to get some much needed rest.

You are, however, incredibly wrong. 

“Hey, you’re the one with the Storm Par team, aren’t you?”

You force yourself to a stop on the first landing and turn to the group, all of their eyes staring up at you, and nod. “And you are the ones that make videos on Youtube.”

Boone, one of the only ones who’s names you’d gotten earlier today, laughs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, but I’m taking it as a win since you know who we are, as well as the other million people who subscribe to us.”

It’s hard not to smile at least a little at his cockiness. If you had a million subscribers on Youtube, you’d probably also have let it go to your head a little. 

You try and excuse yourself from the conversation then, assuming it’s over, and take a step towards the stairs, but yet again – you’re wrong. This time, it’s the tall, gorgeous blond man that speaks. Tyler Owens.

“I don’t think she’s subscribed to us, Boone.”

You can’t help it. You bite. “What makes you say that, Owens?”

He grins up at you from his spot on the back of the truck. “Am I wrong?” 

“That’s not an answer.”

The others in the group laugh and whoop, obviously enjoying the back and forward between the two of you. You assume that it’s rare for Tyler Owens to get that from anyone, let alone a fellow storm chaser that he’s never met before in his life. 

Tyler looks at you for a few moments without saying anything and you take that as your cue to leave, stifling a yawn as you turn away and head up the staircase. You can hear the others chattering back at the truck as you reach the top of the staircase and move to find your room, desperate for a warm shower and a comfortable bed. 

You’re so stuck in your own thoughts that you don’t hear someone bounding up the stairs behind you. 

“Hey, Storm Par,” Tyler Owens’ voice surprises you.

You look up from the key in your hand, having been checking your room number, and meet his eyes. “Were you that desperate for an answer on whether I’m subscribed to your Youtube channel that you had to follow me up here?”

Tyler chuckles to himself. “No, surprisingly not. Just figured I’d come and ask you how you’re doing and didn’t think you’d want an audience for that question.”

You’re a little surprised by his kind nature. Judging by what you’d seen of him so far, he was more of an act first, think later kind of person. And maybe he still was since he’d run after you so fast. 

“How I’m doing? I met you twelve hours ago.”

He flashes a grin. “I can’t ask someone I met twelve hours ago how they are?”

“Well…” You hesitate, a little lost for words. “I’m fine, just tired. I haven’t done this storm chasing thing in a couple of years and it’s going to take a bit of getting used to, especially working with a team like Storm Par.”

You don’t owe Tyler an explanation about everything, not about why you haven’t done it in years, nor why you’re a bit apprehensive about the Storm Par team. But you figure, since he’d been so kind to follow you up here to check in on you, a small explanation is the least you can offer him in return for his kindness.

Tyler nods. “Listen, I know my team can be a little much sometimes – in a good way, don’t get me wrong – but if you’re ever after a bit more fun than the suits and PhD’s of Storm Par, I’m sure we can squeeze you in.”

You snort. “They do not wear suits while storm chasing.”

“How do you know? You’ve only been here for twelve hours, Storm Par.”

Tyler smirks as you narrow your eyes at him. “Not my name, Owens.”

“Go and get some rest, you’ll need it for tomorrow.” He can see that you’re exhausted, and even though you’re happily playing along with him, he’s not the type to push it too far. Especially when it comes to you, apparently. “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”

“You gonna set up camp outside my room?”

“No, not for someone I’ve only known for twelve hours. But I will guard the stairs incase Javi or Scott come looking for you,” he smiles, amusement in his every word. “Go on.”

You listen to him, eyeing him carefully one last time before turning and heading towards your room, which you think is at the end of the corridor. Just as you’re putting your key in the lock, you hear him yell out behind you.

“If you can’t sleep, you can always look up Tornado Wranglers on Youtube!” 

[hrrtshape]

First of all, I really like your posts but I feel like I am too dumb for some of your answers. They are so poetic and I... Am not. So I don't understand some of them, could you explain how to shift and deal with 3D for a dumb dumb person?

okay first of all you’re not dumb !!!! you just have different ways of processing information. that’s normal. my brain just works like a victorian poet who’s been trapped in a storm for three days. but i got you.

shifting is just moving your awareness. you do it all the time without realising. daydreaming? shifting. getting lost in a book? shifting. waking up and forgetting where you are for a second? shifting. the only difference is now you’re doing it on purpose.

how to shift.

i , decide where you want to go. be clear. what’s the vibe? what do you want to experience?

ii , relax. you don’t have to be in a perfect position. just get comfortable.

iii , focus on your dr. think about it, feel it, imagine it however works best for you. some people visualise, some just know it’s real. both work.

iv , detach from 3d. this is the hardest part but also the easiest. stop worrying about whether it’s working. if you’re thinking “but i’m still here,” that’s just a thought, not proof. shifting isn’t about forcing, it’s about letting go.

v , allow it to happen. you don’t have to do anything special. your consciousness will move when you stop gripping onto 3d so hard.

dealing with the 3d while waiting.

stop acting like 3d is the enemy. it’s not a prison, it’s just one layer of reality.

shifting is easy when you stop needing it. desperation makes it harder.

do things that make you feel good in 3d. be a little delusional. let yourself enjoy things.

stop overcomplicating it. if you tell yourself shifting is impossible, your brain will believe you. if you tell yourself it’s natural, your brain will believe that too.

[allywthsr]

WRONG PERSON | (l.norris)

summary: you send a sexy video to some tinder guy, until you realize you tapped Lando‘s contact instead, you both help the other to finish what you started

wordcount: 2.4k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: smut!, talking about toys, details about masturbation, phone sex, dirtytalk

notes: inspired by this!!! Tell me what you think, I‘m still scared to write smut, hope you all like this🫣

You were working for Quadrant, it wasn’t like you were some important boss or something, you mostly dealt with customers and sometimes got to plan a video, but Lando still took the time and got to know you. When the whole team went out for dinner, Lando talked to everyone for at least twenty minutes, he wanted to know who was working for him and his brand.

There was no denying you found him handsome, everybody thought he was pretty, but you needed to hide your excitement in your panties whenever he was near you. Not only did he make eye contact every time you two talked, but he also smelled delicious, you wanted to rip his clothes off, the whole time he was near you.

But back to where you were now, laying in bed naked, at almost one am, with your phone in your hand. You were single and desperate, texting with guys from Tinder, who were not worth more than a quick fuck, but you were young and had your needs.

With your phone in one hand, and your left boob in the other, you recorded a small video, where you were squeezing your boob and moaned slightly. You‘ve been snapchatting with a guy you met on Tinder, both of you were horny and needed a release, so why not help each other? You quickly wrote a text to the video, to make it more seducing, ’ You make me so wet…‘ and taped on the slot on Snapchat where he was for the last few snaps, before you could double check that you selected him, you hit sent and threw the phone next to you.

While you waited for his answer, your hand slowly made its way to your pussy, circling your wet clit. With a moan, you teased yourself and kept stopping the sensation in your most private area. When you heard the Snapchat notification tone, you took your phone in your hand and only saw that Lando send you a snap, it wasn’t unusual that he would snap you, you two were streaking after all, but at that time was a little odd, because you were kinda bored and waiting for your guy to reply, you withdraw your fingers from your wet cunt and opened Lando’s snap.

With a gasp, you threw away your phone, the first photo was a normal snap, a picture of his bedroom with some series on Netflix playing, but when you tapped on the screen to exit the snap, a new picture popped up. You could see his hand holding his boxershorts clothed dick, he was hard and big, long and thick. He also wrote a little text, you had to read it twice, making sure your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you, ’was this meant for me, babygirl?‘

You didn’t know what to do, so you did nothing for a few seconds, you didn’t feel horny anymore, suddenly aware of the cold air hitting your still-hot pussy. Should you reply and apologize, saying how you accidentally sent your boss a nude, and look him in the eye at the next dinner? Impossible.

You thought about leaving the country and starting all over again, where no one knew Lando, but that wasn’t a solution either, you had to face him and say that it wasn’t meant for him. But how can you get rid of the image in your head of his dick, the only thing that was roaming through your brain right now was how lucky his future wife would be. With a dick like that, she sure would be happy for the rest of her life.

You excited the snap and took a deep breath, what were you going to say, sorry I send you a nude, but your dick looks nice? No. It took you at least two minutes to think about it and when you took a picture of half your face and started writing a paragraph of apologies, your phone showed you an incoming call.

Lando Norris.

Shit. Your whole body tensed, you couldn’t answer, you just had to pack your things and go, leave London and Lando behind, but something in you didn’t want that, and after what seemed like hours, you did answer the call.

”Hey Lando, look uhm, I‘m sorry I sent you that video, it wasn’t meant for you, obviously. B…But thank you for responding, I mean that picture was nice, but I don’t think that this uhm professionalism between us should be broken. If.. if you want me to leave Quadrant, I‘ll do that.. uhm I’m sorry for sending you that, and I-“

”Y/N, will you stop rambling?“, his voice sounded like he was out of breath, you started shaking when you heard him speak.

”I‘m sorry, for rambling and sending you the video.“

He chuckled, ”Don’t be, maybe you could’ve seen by my response, that I wasn’t mad about it. Sure having your employee suddenly sending you a video where she squeezes her boob and moans, isn’t something I‘d expect, but you have beautiful boobs.“

You didn’t know what to say, so the only thing that came out of your mouth was a: ”Thank you?“, you could hear your heartbeat in your chest, the silence on the other line panicked you.

”But, maybe this is unprofessional of me now, but you left me in a kind of hard situation, Y/N. I bet you’re still wet if your fingers would slide between your legs, aren’t you?“

Your breath hitched, was this for real? Was Lando Norris, your boss, dirty talking to you?

”I..I don’t know, it was a pretty big shock to see you replying, I‘m not as horny as I was ten minutes ago.“

”Then I want you to glide your hand over your boobs and stomach, down to your pussy, I bet it’s pretty, and then tell me how wet you are.“

With a small sigh, you did what he told you, gliding over your boobs and stomach to your pussy, you touched your entrance slightly and felt yourself pulsating, you may not be as horny anymore, but your wetness said otherwise, maybe a part of you already found it hot that Lando actually replied to you.

”Fuck, I‘m so wet Lando.“

You heard a moan from the other line and some sheet rustling, ”Baby, I want you to touch yourself like you would do without me. Finger yourself, rub your clit, do whatever satisfies you. I‘m hard as a rock baby, I need to touch myself too, I wish you were here to do it for me.“

You did as Lando told you, rubbing your clit in circles and feeling yourself come closer to the edge, this whole situation was so hot, it turned you on so badly.

”Please touch yourself, Lando, I wish I was there to help you.“

”I could eat you out until you’re crying and begging me to stop because you would be overstimulated.“

Another moan escaped your mouth and slowly you let your fingers slip into you, which was no problem due to your wetness, but it wasn’t enough, you needed more, thankfully Lando seemed to know what you were thinking when he heard your unsatisfied moans.

”Do you need more baby? Are your fingers not enough, you need my dick to stretch you out?“

You let out whiny and breathy ’yes‘, this situation was so bizarre but hot at the same time.

”Do you have any toys, Y/N? I want you to use a toy on yourself.“

”I..I do.“

”Show me.“

”Can we switch to FaceTime? It’s easier, and I want to see you.“

Lando hummed and muttered a quick goodbye before the screen with the call disappeared, the only thing you could see on your phone now was the picture you took a few minutes ago, and before you could do anything else, the FaceTime call from Lando came in. You answered without thinking about it and you were greeted with a big and girthy dick, and your mouth watered a little. You held the phone up, so he could see your face and your boobs, which he commented with a quiet ’fuck‘.

”Show me your toys, baby.“

You quickly got up and propped the phone against your lamp that stood on the nightstand, while you looked under your bed to fish out the box with your toys. It wasn’t like you were some pornstar and had thousands of toys, but over the years you had collected a fair amount of little helpers.

By now Lando had switched back to his face, so you could see his little beard and his eyes, he kept biting his lower lip, while watching you.

You opened your box and grabbed the first toy you saw, a standard dildo, it was skin-colored and a bit longer and thicker than the normal ones. You showed it to Lando and he groaned, tilting his head back, ”Is that your favorite?“, he asked.

You shook your head and pulled out a pink satisfyer, it was a mixture of a vibrator and dildo, but it also had a clit sucking element. That one was your favorite, you had spent hours with this beauty, and it never left you hanging. ”This is my favorite, you don’t know how good this feels.“

”Tell me about it.“

”It’s so fucking good, Lando. This clit sucking thing? It feels like heaven, it gets me there within a few minutes, the fastest I‘ve ever had an orgasm.“

”I bet I could get you there faster.“

That statement left you with a smirk, only the thought of Lando going down on you, made your head spin, you needed that.

”I can see that you’re imagining it right now, I bet you taste amazing, I would finger you, while lapping at your clit, you would be so full.“

You shut your eyes, and whined, your pussy clenching around nothing.

”What else do you have in there?“

”I have a wand“, you lifted the typical wand and dropped it on the bed, ”I also have a rabbit vibrator, and this“, you lifted another pink vibrator, but this one was smaller.

”You know what this is for, Lando?“

”I‘ve seen it in porn“, he smirked, ”have you ever let someone control it while being somewhere public?“

You nodded, it was a vibrator that you would insert into your pussy and it could be controlled with an app, you‘ve only used it once with someone.

”I was on a date with someone from Tinder, and we‘d been sexting for days and I gave him the app and he controlled it over dinner, it was an experience and I loved it.“

”I want to control it in our next meeting, seeing you tremble over some video ideas is going to be fucking hot.“

Another wave of pleasure rushed through your body, you couldn’t believe you were talking that way with your boss, unbelievable.

”I want you to use that rabbit on you.“

You chuckled, and held the rabbit vibrator into the camera, ”This one?“

Lando nodded eagerly, with a smirk you opened your mouth, dared your tongue out, and licked a long stripe over the part that goes inside of you. After a few licks, you put it fully in your mouth and started sucking it.

You could see how Lando started touching himself again, his eyes closed every now and then and he let out small whimpers. This was your sign that you needed to touch yourself too, so you laid on the bed and flipped the camera to your lower part, where the vibrator was circling your clit. Lando also flipped the camera and you saw his dick that was already leaking pre cum, he moved his thumb over his tip every now and then while moving his cock through his fist, collecting the white fluid. Due to your wetness, the vibrator slipped inside of you with ease, you turned it on and gasped when you felt the vibrations.

”Do you like that? Having your pussy stuffed.“

”Yes, Lando, yes. I need you here next to me.“

”I need you too, wrapped around my cock, you would be screaming and keeping up the neighbors all night.“

With a loud moan, you could feel yourself getting closer to a release, the tip edging your clit made you almost scream and the way you moved the vibrator in and out of you, made you see stars. Lando also was about to cum, he saw that your pussy got wetter and wetter, your fluids squeezing out of your cunt every time the vibrator left it.

”I’m about to cum, Y/N. Show me your face, are you cumming soon?“

You moaned loudly again and flipped the camera, just like Lando did, “Yes, Lando, I wish it was you filling me so well.“

With a loud moan and a lot of curses, Lando spilled his cum all over his hand and stomach, he quickly flipped the camera again, now showing you the mess he created, “That’s all for you, baby, I wish it was inside of you instead on the stomach. Cum for me Y/N, let go.“

While he said those words to you, you felt yourself falling over the edge, with moans and grunts. Lando was sure he never heard something so sexy, those sounds alone made him horny again, he needed to feel you close.

When both of you came down from your highs, you two let out a laugh, realizing what you just did, you had phone sex with your boss, but it felt right and good, and the way his cum sat on his stomach, made you horny again, you needed him.

“You feeling better now?“

“Lando, you’ve no idea, so much better than the weird Tinder guy the video actually was for.“

“I bet, but I still need you, Y/N.“

“Are you in London?“

He hummed.

“Well, my bed is cold without you in it, if you want, my pussy is ready for you, Lando.“

“Send me your address, I’ll be over in ten minutes, you better not start without me, or you’ll get punished.“

Part two

taglist: @millinorrizz @jamieeboulos @loxbbg

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Fool

Summary: As you lie, nestled into Astarion’s chest, he considers his feelings - his damned, complicated feelings.

Alternatively, Astarion experiences all 5 stages of grief in 10 minutes.

Rating: T Word Count: 816 Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Content: First person Astarion POV, fluff and angst, rather a lot of angst actually, feelings denial, Astarion needs a hug, cuddling, Astarion's simple plan beginning to fall apart.

Want to hear this fic read aloud with absolutely pristine acting by the incredibly talented CurlyChops on AO3? Have a listen here!

A/N: You know when you’re lying in bed, unable to sleep until you write down that idea that’s managed to worm its way into your brain at unspeakable hours of the night? Here we have a slightly angsty drabble that decided to do just that! After the reception to the Gale first person POV, I wanted to try my hand at an Astarion POV. Hopefully you enjoy!

A fool lies in this tent.

Look at you, nestled into my side, sleeping peacefully against my chest as if a vampire’s embrace is the safest place in all the realms. Utterly ridiculous. So trusting, so… pliant. All according to plan, really. I set the trap - a few choice words here, a few lingering touches there - and you walked right into it. Just like I knew you would.

Just like all the others do.

Well, not quite like all the others. You actually believe there's something redeemable in me, don't you? How deliciously naïve.

Do you even realise what you've fallen for? What I am? A monster, a liar, a parasite. Oh, my dear, the fool you are.

Though I suppose your particular brand of foolishness has its… uses. Your blind faith in my redemption is almost charming.

No. Not charming. It’s pathetic. Pathetically predictable. It can’t be charming. Because, if it is, I’m no better than the fool I mock.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and I resist the urge to recoil. This charade - this playing at romance, at desire - it shouldn’t affect me so. I’m above this. I’ve spent centuries perfecting the art of manipulation, of taking what I need. It was supposed to be easy: charm you, bed you, and secure my safety. A means to an end. But as I lay here, with your warmth pressed against me, my chest begins to tighten. Not in fear or hunger, but in something… complicated.

Anger begins to burn at the back of my throat. Good. Anger is familiar. It’s safer, easier to control.

This is your fault, you know. No, worse - it’s mine. My fault that I have been reduced to this - a creature desperate enough to sell the only scraps of autonomy I have left. You think this closeness is love, don’t you? But it’s not. It’s survival. It has always been survival.

But then again… 

You’re not like the others at all, are you? Those who took without asking, without care. Your touch is… gentle. Always so damnably gentle. You’ve never grabbed, never demanded, never treated me like a thing to be used. With you, it hasn’t all been… bad. No, that’s not right - it’s been tolerable. Almost pleasant at times, really. Your touch doesn’t make my skin crawl; your voice doesn’t grate on my nerves. I tell myself it’s because you’re useful. That’s all this is. 

That’s all it can ever be.

If I were to tell you the truth, what would you do? If I were to push you away, would you stay? If I were to let you in, would you hurt me? These questions gnaw at me, demanding answers I don't have. 

Answers I don't want.

Even now, as you sleep, your fingers rest light as feathers on my chest. It’s maddening. Infuriating. How dare you? How dare you make this difficult? This was supposed to be simple. You were supposed to be simple. 

I could kill you right now, you know. One quick movement, and all these feelings would disappear with you. Never again would you look at me like I'm something precious, something worth saving, like I’m–

“... Astarion,” you mumble drearily in your sleep.

Hells.

I should leave. I should push you away, remind you that I am not something to hold on to.

But I don’t move. 

Instead, I stay. Because the truth, the awful, unbearable truth, is that I don’t want to lose this. The selfish man I am.

A sigh escapes me. 

It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted. 

Gods, what an absolute mess you’ve made of my carefully laid plans. I find myself watching you sleep, counting your breaths, fighting the urge to brush that strand of hair from your face.

When did this happen? When did I start to care whether you lived or died beyond your usefulness to me?

I hate this. I hate that you’ve made me feel anything at all, but more than that, I hate myself for not hating it more. The way you defend me, the way you’ve never once looked at me with disgust or fear… it’s terrifying.

You’re terrifying.

Yet I can't bear to give it away.

Your fingers curl into my shirt in your sleep, and I find myself pulling you closer despite every screaming instinct to push you away. Protecting you, as if I have any right to do so. As if I deserve the way you lean into my touch, trust in my words, believe in my capacity for - dare I say it - goodness. As if I deserve any of this.

The moonlight filtering through the tent catches on your sleeping face, and something inside me breaks. Or perhaps it's finally mending. I'm not sure I know the difference anymore.

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, so soft I’m certain it won’t wake you. How poetic. How utterly absurd.

You, the fool, who dared to fall for me. 

And I, the greater fool for letting you.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat, @davenswitcher, @silverfangmarks, @sparrowbard, @chonkercatto, @stokzr , @trafalgarussy , @asterordinary , @bite-me-tonight , @transparentkittenheart , @bg3-fanfic-reblogs

[harmonysanreads]

I KNOW WE HAVEN’T KNOWN ANYTHING ABOUT PHAINON YET (except for that cute face and yummy booba) AND I ALREADY HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT HIM.

Okay okay imagine Yandere! Phainon who loves you and cherishes your existence too much to the brink of obsession (can you blame him?). Him, being a perfect man himself still thinks that he lacks something, and that something is your devotion, your unyielding love because he deserves it, right? He deserves to have your attention and your affection after everything he has done for you.

Oh no, dear Phainon is definitely not a selfish man, he just needs your love to complete himself, to have someone that he could return to after a hard day.

That’s why I think this man will definitely love bombing you. Gifts, kisses, cuddles? Everything you want, everything you ask for. And even if you don’t even need it, he still offers it to you like the desperate puppy he is. He will spoil you rotten, and I mean it in the most respectful way. He found your smallest quirks adorable even if it’s not that special in your eyes. He reminds you to stay dehydrated and go to sleep early, he even tells you to eat healthy. That’s why after knowing him, you have never skipped another meal. And he will definitely coo softly to you whenever you feel insecure about yourself. That’s why you need him, that’s why you should rely on him. And the only thing Phainon ask for as a payback is your love, love him like the way he does to you. Please please because you’re his pretty girl and he loves you too much to even think that this is not a mutual feeling.

Can you really say no to him? To that adorable face and those sparkling blue eyes that seem to go lovesick everytime they catch a glimpse of you?

It was the fifth time this month, or was it the sixth? You couldn't be bothered to keep count anymore, the absurdity of the situation pushing you closer to questioning reality.

“You do know that it's illegal to break into a person's house?” you manage to croak out, senses strained by sickness.

“Break into your house?” he pulls out a chair to sit, the bowl of whatever he'd brought with him finding its place on the table beside your bed.

The near-dumbfounded edge to his question makes you deadpan, “You're so humorous, even when you're sick. How is it trespassing when we're in love with each other?”

You feel your fingers clutching onto your bedsheets, did he even hear you? Can he hear himself? To that, your conscience answers with a firm no. He'll only acknowledge what will suit his fancy, anything else is but you being in a ‘phase of denial’.

“I am not in love with you, how many times do I need to reiterate?” you stress, watching the twirl of the spoon as he stirs the contents in the bowl.

“Hush, I know you're just moody I didn't arrive sooner. I read it on that book you had on you on last Saturday. This is the part where I'm supposed to apologize and hold my ears, right—”

You release a heavy sigh.

You could not decide what begged the most concern : the fact that he doesn't see the problem in his behavior or how accustomed to it that you're getting.

A warm touch on your forehead startles you, another firmer grip on your arm stops you from moving away, “How are you still so energetic with this high a fever?” the candle atop the table flickers, a frown blemishes his face.

He leans in, you respond by increasing the distance. “I took medicine earlier.” you mutter, suddenly feeling like a guilty child.

“Did you? Good girl.” you don't need to look at him to picture the shine clinging at the corners of his lips. You shouldn't look at him for it'll reveal the barely held back cringe spreading across your face.

You're about to protest but a wave of dizziness halts you. Phainon notices the change, you find yourself wishing he wasn't so observant.

“But you haven't eaten, have you?” his hands act too familiar, too comfortable in touching you. You're forced to inhale as he cups your face in inspection, pretending it's for work — but you know, his greed extends too far for it to be anything but an excuse.

“I did eat.” you try to assert, he remains unconvinced.

“Are you still mad at me? If so, say it, I can apologize however you'd prefer. But please don't lie to me about matters that concern your health.” a squeeze to your cheeks, shadows fall on him.

You almost want to laugh at the worry in his eyes, at the way he behaves so much like a perfect lover. If you hadn't known better, the haze clouding your sense would've made you believe him, buy that he's being sincere.

Unfortunately for him and fortunately for you, you're just a bit more distrustful than others, just a bit more cautious than he's giving you credit for — a bit too lucid to have faith in his ‘love’ narrative.

You purse your lips, you are mad at him ; just not in the way he's deluding himself to be. As you contemplate whether to snap at him or not, he releases his grip on you in favor of scooping a spoon of the contents in the bowl, ending his path before your lips.

You turn you head away, a clear rejection. You expect him to probe again but his sigh catches you off-guard.

His finger wraps around a lock of your hair, yearning stains his eyes. “This would've never happened if you just accepted to be mine.”

You soak in his words for a second. Your left eye twitches as you realize, he completely ignored every previous piece of dialogue for his agenda.

“In your dreams.” petulance coats the statement.

To your horror, Phainon easily brings the lock of your hair to his lips, his smile widening as if he's got you exactly where he desires.

“How did you know? I do dream of you, everyday.” sparkles float around the air of his face.

You find yourself grasping at straws, how does one wake up a man who pretends to sleep? A voice in your head interjects, perhaps it is for the best you cease these attempts altogether?

“Now, won't you continue to be a sweet girl and eat up?” his words are honey, his smile is blinding and oh so dreadfully, there is adoration in his face, in his every step.

It has alarm bells ringing in your head, because it doesn't make sense.

“No.” you sharply deny, pushing the spoon away again.

“Why not?” you notice just at the nick of time, there is an edge to his voice this time. A crack forming in that perfect face.

“Because I don't trust you. What if you mixed something weird in it?” that is an understatement, your distrust for the man stretches further than the food he offers.

The elders always say, if something is too good to be true, it is too good to be true. ‘Love’ is not reason enough for you to believe Phainon's apparent devotion, his benevolence. No man would squander his time and resources only to back it up with such an easy reasoning — at least, not a man like him. Even if he says it till your ears bleed — you will not believe him.

The Chrysos Heir's hum interrupts the silence, “Then, if I do this...”

Your quizzical gaze falls on him, he holds your stare and you feel a kick at your ribcage. Struggling is useless, but you try anyway ; if just to be petty, if just to drive your point across, if just to survive. He squashes your attempt with an insultingly easy grip, showing you exactly how futile it is.

His thumb parts your lips with an insistent press, joining his pointer finger in holding your mouth open next. Your nails scratch at his glove in a pitiful attempt at getting him away, his free hand holds them both captive.

His parted lips shrinking the distance is the last thing you see, before you close your eyes shut. You would breathe if your lungs hadn't given up, the increase of strength in Phainon's grip seizes you with fear, makes it feel as though your blood froze with dread. Your instincts stop kicking, accepting its place in the serpent's jaw.

You feel a sharp kick of spice on your tongue, washing through your parched throat. A force has you closing your mouth, holding it in place until the content has been swallowed.

You heave as if you reached the surface from an arduous dive at last, mind working overtime, trying to process what just took place.

A clink of the spoon as it's placed on the bowl startles you, Phainon closes his eyes, a smile nearly splits his face in two.

“That's more like it. See, it was delicious and perfectly free of questionable substances, no?”

Phainon's smile breaks into a chuckle at the astonished look on your face, you feel a twist somewhere inside at the way derision drips from its tune. But before you can observe further, you feel a swipe of his finger on your lower lip. You make the mistake of glancing at him and he utilizes your mishap to make a show of licking the residue from your lips clean.

If you were skeptical about it before, you are certain now — this man will be your doom.

SIKE.